Titans—countless Titans.
Hundreds, even thousands, of god-machines were slaughtering one another across this narrow stretch of land.
This was the sight Sanguinius saw through the open hatch of his personal Stormbird.
Every artificial structure and natural mountain range across this vast battlefield had been flattened. Upon the war-scorched earth, only the colossal Titan god-machines remained, marching onward.
Forward. Only forward. There could be no retreat.
If a single Titan god-machine appeared on a battlefield, it inspired humanity with shock and reverence—the instinctive terror living beings felt toward something vastly larger than themselves.
But when hundreds of Titans strode across endless plains, it surpassed the limits of what the human mind could comprehend.
The earth trembled beneath the Titans' footsteps, producing deep, thunderous booms like the groaning of the planet itself.
As though some colossal beast imprisoned within the planet's core was roaring in rage.
The entire battlefield was swallowed by a murky darkness tinged with firelight. Even a primarch's vision could not pierce the dust and flames thrown up by the colossal war machines.
The sun could no longer be seen on Beta-Garmon II. Dust clouds created by radiological weapons had spread through the atmosphere, while the planet's atmospheric circulation had completely collapsed years ago.
Vast amounts of energy had been released into the atmosphere. The heat caused lightning to flash endlessly through the cloud-choked skies, yet the Titans' cannon fire shone brighter still.
Infantry and armored vehicle formations had nearly vanished from the battlefield. Once a Titan's volcano cannon struck, such fragile combat units would be reduced to ash by the extreme heat, as if they had never existed at all.
Even the mighty Astartes were no different from mortals beneath Titan-grade firepower.
Sanguinius gripped the Stormbird's hatch with his right hand. The Sanguinary Guard stood within the cabin