The thunderous crash, accompanied by the tearing of metal, the splintering of wood, and the dull roar of air compressed by a shock wave and violently released, shattered the usual quiet of the Law of Faith's corridors like a boulder hurled into a still lake.
The sound traveled through the ship's metal structure like invisible tentacles, worming into every neighboring room and hammering at every closed door.
The door to the next room did not open.
The wall exploded.
BOOM!!!
An even more violent crash rang out, accompanied by the piercing shriek of metal forcibly torn apart.
The sturdy warship bulkhead, an alloy plate thick enough to withstand a small meteorite impact, bulged outward like paper being torn apart from within by some terrible force, then burst apart in the next instant.
Fragments flew in every direction like shrapnel, peppering the study walls with dents.
Before the dust had settled, two towering figures strode through the breach.
Angron led the way, bare-chested, his bronze muscles gleaming like oiled steel in the dim light, every contour so sharply defined it was almost savage.
His eyes burned with pure, unfiltered fury. The two enormous power axes in his hands were already powered up, blue arcs dancing along their blades as they hummed low, like two awakened beasts growling.
He did not even waste time surveying the scene. His gaze locked straight onto the spear-wielding figure, and murderous intent surged from him in waves.
Curze followed close behind. He made none of Angron's commotion, slipping silently toward the edge of the room like a fragment peeled away from the shadows, his form flickering along the boundary between light and darkness.
His gaze was cold and sharp, dissecting every detail of the scene like a scalpel: the assassin's position, the angle of his weapon,