The ruins of the Imperial Palace's outer city resembled bones gnawed by a great beast. Shattered domes, twisted metal skeletons, and rock that had melted and hardened again defined this realm of death.
Amid the devastation, Glorious Flame's immense silver body moved through countless towering wrecks and ruins, advancing unwaveringly toward the Lion's Gate Spaceport.
High-precision composite sensors scanned the surroundings in every direction. Any heat signature, energy fluctuation, or moving target was instantly analyzed, marked, and either ignored or eliminated according to its threat level.
Yet the Traitors' champions were no unprepared brutes.
Inside a building that had partially collapsed but remained largely intact, Khârn and Typhus rendezvoused.
The air was thick with the World Eaters' heavy scent of blood and the nauseating mixture of rot and incense that clung to the Death Guard.
"That tin can is advancing along Seventh Avenue."
Khârn's voice emerged through his helmet grille, accompanied by the low hum of his idling Chainaxe engine. His rough finger traced a line across the holographic map.
"We can ambush it here."
He pointed to a narrow canyon formed by the collapse of numerous monumental buildings.
"We can position heavy weapons in the tall structures on either side and pin it down. Then..."
Typhus gave a wet laugh, like air leaking from a windpipe.
"Then my Deathshroud will teleport straight into its core compartment and bestow Grandfather's 'blessing' upon it from within."
He lightly tapped the ground with his rotten wooden staff, and a green glimmer of psychic power flickered in the air.
"No mortal creation can withstand Nurgle's affection."
"Make it quick."
Khârn growled impatiently.
"I can already smell its metal shell."
A simple, brutal plan was swiftly devised.
The World Eaters surged like a red tide toward the elevated ruins on either side. They also