"Aaaargh!!!!"
Uralk's mountain-sized body became a meteor of unparalleled violence, carrying the terrifying kinetic energy Lorgar had imparted with his throw—enough to shift and shatter continental plates—and slammed squarely into the cold, hard, gray surface of a moon orbiting Ullanor, a surface that had lain lifeless for billions of years.
At the instant of impact, time seemed to stretch and freeze.
First came absolute compression.
The tiny patch where Uralk's back met the moon's surface endured unimaginable pressure within a hundred-millionth of a second.
The thick composite Ork armor, the muscles and bones tough enough to withstand a direct hit from a tank's main gun, and the ancient rock strata of the lunar crust beneath him became indistinguishable in that instant.
All were crushed and collapsed with equal violence!
A crater nearly a hundred meters across, its edges riddled with radiating cracks, burst open at the point of impact. It did not form gradually; it appeared as though an invisible giant fist had stamped it into the ground.
Then came the release.
The energy compressed to its limit erupted in every direction with the utmost violence.
A visible ring of shock waves, thick with rock dust, metal shards, and green blood mist, raced across the ground. Wherever it passed, it swept up all the fine lunar dust accumulated over millions of years, raising a gray dust storm several kilometers high that blotted out the sky.
The tremors from the impact were like a blow struck against the soul of this dead world. Deep, persistent shock waves raced through the crust, triggering landslides in distant mountains and groans from structures farther below.
At the center of the impact, Uralk's enormous body—his pride, his symbol of strength and conquest—lay embedded deep in the bottom of the crater he had made, humiliatingly fused