"My brother... he was a Perpetual..."
Lion watched as, with every step the Lord of Drakes took, the bloodied wounds across his body healed at a visible rate.
His flesh wriggled as though it possessed a will of its own, knitting itself back together and leaving behind nothing but overly fresh scars.
The Lion took several steps back. Though the frenzied Vulkan had seized the Lion Sword, the Lord of Caliban showed no panic. His dark armor, accented in ember-red, swelled as he lunged at the black giant before him like a true beast.
Only now did Dorlok truly see the Lion King's true nature. He was still immersed in that lethal slash the Lion had delivered, yet he vaguely realized something: losing his sword had not meant Lion had lost his weapon. His body was his greatest weapon.
Lion wore that exquisitely crafted suit of armor, one of its lion-head pauldrons already crushed and warped by the Lord of Drakes' brute strength. Yet when Lion charged toward Vulkan, his power armor seemed to come alive.
This supreme hunter from the jungles of Caliban seemed to have transformed into one of the monsters of that terrifying wilderness. The Lion Valentius saw was not the dignified leader of knights, but a genuine beast.
The image of Lion pouncing upon him surfaced uncontrollably in his mind: that irresistible pressure, the pungent stench of blood, and the soul-shaking roar. Countless monsters he had never seen seemed to emerge behind Lion.
A terrifying Lion King.
Valentius had never seen his gene-father fly into a rage. Though reports from the Battle of Calth claimed that Roboute Guilliman had furiously slaughtered countless Word Bearers in space, that had ultimately been hearsay.
Yet the Lion before him was showing him firsthand just how terrifying a primarch could