"How many men did Lion bring? I saw many drop pods detaching from the decks of the Invincible Reason." Lox spoke to Sanguinius on the other side of the holo-projection.
Lox slowly took a deep breath to calm himself, while Hill and Captain Gantula of the White Scars tightened the fleet's encirclement. A massive fleet led by three Thundercloud-class planetary warships gradually surrounded the enemy vessels.
For some reason, however, the Alpha Legion's ships still had not launched a counterattack.
In any case, they were not afraid of enemy tricks. Before such an overwhelming disparity in strength, Alpha's fleet had no chance of turning the tide.
The White Scars displayed their prowess in void warfare. Their ships relied on powerful physical engines to maneuver at high speed through realspace, dividing, flanking, and herding their prey into the slaughterhouse like a pack of wolves on the plains.
Since the enemy was in no hurry to counterattack, neither were they. They simply continued driving the enemy fleet onward.
Sanguinius held a small bowl of grapes from Macragge, savoring them one by one. His shining white wings trembled faintly as Azkaellon, leader of the Sanguinary Guard, patiently tended to his father's feathers.
This berserker of the battlefield was exceptionally gentle beside his genetic father, meticulously cleaning and caring for every precious feather.
Lox always found the sight rather strange. Perhaps, to the Blood Angels, this was instead the finest reward—to be close to their genetic father was the dream of countless Astartes.
"Three hundred? Or four hundred? In any case, Johnson brought both the Deathwing and the Dreadwing. He won't hold back."
"He has always had a temper. Now that he has somewhere to vent it, of course he will vent it completely."
Sanguinius slowly ate his grapes. Ever since they had begun