Lox did not know whether the suddenly talkative Night Haunter had finally cracked, but at least he had quieted down.
That was always a good thing.
Even though Curze had been imprisoned and his claws could no longer hurt anyone, his tongue could still torment others' nerves with endless prattle.
That was the fellow's gift. Perhaps the Emperor had designed him to be a tormentor, a judge.
Suddenly.
A muffled, obscure toll rang through the cabins of the New Caliban. The sound seemed to echo beside his ear. Lox abruptly opened his eyes. He knew very well that there were absolutely no bells aboard this ship.
At least, no bells that sounded like this—like some rusted antique buried beneath yellow earth for thousands of years.
The fleet traveling through the Warp had entered a strange region.
Whispers from the Warp seemed to have penetrated the protection of the Gellar Field and entered the bridge. They sounded like the phlegm-filled breathing of a dying patient, or the irritating buzz of flies circling after catching the scent of death.
At the same time, a vile stench emerged from nowhere. Lox had never smelled anything so horrifying. Any odor known to humanity seemed as fresh as perfume in comparison.
"I'm seeing some ghostly shit. Our break is over, Lox."
Veronica abruptly rose to her feet. It was Curze inside her who had driven the motion. This Iron Man had received no orders to act, nor had his freedom been restricted.
The Primarch's grotesque physical strength forcibly made the Iron Man move. Covering his nose and mouth, Lox felt as though a swarm of rotten, stinking corpses had suddenly appeared in the cabin, continuously releasing lethal poison gas.
The ship's air circulation system was operating at full capacity, alarms shrieked one after another, and