Aboard the Law of Faith, in the Core Tactical Intelligence Room.
The broad, circular wall of screens clearly displayed the entire demonstration of the Cissel Power Armour at the testing grounds.
From Johnny and the others' initial adjustments, to the main weapons roaring as they pulverized the target area, to the melee systems crushing the Grox.
The images were razor-sharp, the sound thunderous. Every heavy footfall, every howl of the autocannons, every dull collision of metal and flesh came through in perfect detail.
Lorgar stood tall before the screens, his hands clasped behind his back. His steady gaze followed every detail of the Cissel's movements as he assessed its firepower, protection, mobility, and interaction with its operator.
Beside him stood Marshal Baldwin, commander-in-chief of the Holy Word Army.
At that moment, the hawk-sharp gray eyes beneath his mask were also fixed on the screens. Deep within them flickered that distinctive gleam of a career soldier assessing new equipment—a mixture of scrutiny, calculation, and barely perceptible fervor.
Several senior Holy Word Army staff officers and equipment department heads stood solemnly to one side of the room. Everyone held their breath, utterly absorbed in the visual and conceptual impact of the Cissel.
The demonstration ended with Johnny's yearning cry of "Holy shit!" The image froze on the silver-white suit standing proudly, stained with filthy blood.
The room's lights slowly brightened.
Lorgar did not comment immediately.
He remained silent for several seconds, seemingly digesting everything he had just seen while rapidly running complex projections and cost-benefit analyses in his head.
Then he slowly turned, looking toward Archmagos Valkyrie, who stood quietly beside the intelligence console, faint streams of data flickering across her body.
"Valkyrie." Lorgar's voice was steady as he went straight to the heart of the matter.
"You've already received the demonstration