"Now, Layak!"
"Charge with me!"
Lorgar launched a fearless charge at the Warmaster before him, radiant holy light enveloping his ash-gray armor, resplendent as a god descending into the world.
Even the elite Possessed Marines charging alongside him bore halo runes above their heads, vastly amplifying their combat power.
Compared to his crimson daemon brother, Lorgar's psychic power was weaker, and his combat ability perhaps had some shortcomings. But he was more skilled at using rituals to magnify his strength.
At the same time, he excelled at applying effects to bolster his own side or weaken the enemy.
Hearing his gene-father's psychic summons, the Dark Apostle immediately recited Fulgrim's true name, forcibly binding the indolent Slaaneshi Daemon Prince into the battle.
Deep, bone-deep hatred showed in Fulgrim's eyes. He was being enslaved, driven into battle, yet he had no way to resist. The immense humiliation enraged him, but also brought him a strange, perverse pleasure.
Then he vanished from where he stood, appearing behind Horus in what was almost teleportation.
Fast—far too fast. Even the Fulgrim of old would have been utterly overwhelmed if he faced the ascended Phoenix now.
This extreme speed came from the Prince of Pleasure's favor. Slaanesh had lavished its affections upon Fulgrim, granting him immense favor.
Four arms extended from the fallen Phoenix's upper body, each gripping a slender curved blade of different shape. A faint violet glow shimmered across those cold weapons, steeped in deadly poison from Slaanesh's domain.
Greed, gluttony, lust, pride, vanity, sloth.
The curses of the six rings of the Silver Palace had merged within them, together forging Fulgrim's lethal threat.
He was more dangerous than the straightforward Angron.
Even a primarch would never want to discover what it felt like to have their body cut open by these Chaos artifacts.