The Daemon Primarchs Descend

The terrifying power unleashed by the cyclonic torpedoes was discovered by the human captives imprisoned on Gork's Anvils within moments.

After all, the entire sky had been set ablaze. Unless they were blind, there was no way they could ignore such a commotion.

Some of the captives broke down and went mad, some accepted their fate with relief, and some cursed the Imperium in fury.

They had finally waited for the Imperium's forces, but what those forces brought was not salvation, but swift death.

At the moment of life and death, every face of humanity was laid bare.

Olivia opened her arms and embraced death's arrival.

She was too tired. Having witnessed the deaths of so many humans, her heart had long since been pushed beyond its limits.

For her, Exterminatus truly was a form of salvation. She was grateful to the commander who had made that decision.

Since they could not be saved, then it was better to let them die quickly and cleanly.

And if they could take a few more Greenskin Orks with them as an offering, that would be even better.

Yet after a full thirty seconds, Olivia did not feel an all-consuming sea of flames engulf her body.

She opened her eyes in confusion, only to discover that as the fire unleashed by the cyclonic torpedoes neared the surface, it was assimilated by a strange Chaos light that seemed to be made from countless colors mixed together.

A gigantic eight-pointed star totem slowly emerged across the ground. Those blasphemous symbols, painted with human blood as ink and human flesh and bone as brushes, appeared upon the surface of every Gork's Anvil.

The instant she saw those Chaos symbols, the Sister felt a bone-deep chill, cold sweat seeping down her back.

"Emperor, why are there blasphemous