Lorgar stood motionless in the void.
Beneath his feet lay an immense, irregular mass of cold, dark rock, its surface pitted by countless tiny meteorite impacts over billions of years.
Like a dead, solitary island drifting through the cosmic ocean, it cast a long, distorted shadow beneath the light of a distant Stars.
There was no atmosphere here, no sound, only absolute vacuum and piercing cold.
But for a Primarch, this was no death trap.
His powerful physiology had long since transcended any dependence on oxygen. Internal circulation and psychic energy coursed through his body, sustaining all the energy and protection life required.
To him, the cold vacuum was merely a somewhat "thin" outer garment.
Neither lethal radiation nor extreme temperature differences could easily penetrate his enhanced body or the energy field concealed beneath his seemingly simple dark robe.
In his hand, he gripped the two-handed greatsword the Emperor had reforged, now gleaming with a restrained, cold silver light.
Its mirror-bright blade reflected the scattered stars in the distance and the rough texture of the asteroid beneath him. Faint silver patterns along its edge flickered against the absolute darkness, almost as though they were breathing.
He held the sword in one hand, its tip angled toward the asteroid's surface. His posture was straight as a pine, yet as relaxed as if he were merely practicing.
Only his golden eyes, sharp as a hawk's, gazed ahead with calm, absolute concentration at the vast asteroid field stretching hundreds of thousands of kilometers, formed from countless rocks of different sizes that slowly tumbled, collided, and drifted apart.
Deep within that silent sea of rubble, steeped in death and the history of collisions, something prowled.
An immense, twisted shadow, like a space leech from the deepest nightmare magnified billions of times, slipped silently through