In truth, Aximand did not need to make any special effort to find his opponent.
He only had to look at the display in his tactical helmet. Wherever the Sons of Horus were collapsing, that was Sigismund's direction.
It sounded absurd, but it was the truth.
Especially after donning Star-pattern power armor made from strong-interaction material, the Imperial Fists' defenses against ranged weapons such as bolters had risen sharply. Aside from weapons empowered by daemonic psychic power, almost nothing could breach the loyalists' armor.
And trying to fight the Black Knight in close combat with daemon-possessed weapons was even more fanciful.
Whether they were fresh recruits or veterans who had once followed the Wolf Lord across the galaxy, all were cut down with a single stroke when facing Sigismund. In his eyes, there was no difference between them.
He was like a bloodless, merciless killing machine, harvesting the fruit called life.
They were both Astartes, yet when the Sons of Horus encountered this Black Knight, the gap between them was even greater than that between Astartes and mortals.
Protected by his bodyguard, Aximand charged toward the Black Knight. The Gasterlin Terminators unleashed overwhelming firepower. Bolts blessed by daemon possession exploded among Sigismund's battle-brothers, warping the physical properties of their adamantine armor before pulverizing the flesh within.
Even the powerful bodies forged by the Emperor's genes were only somewhat tougher than mortal flesh beneath bolter fire.
Skin was torn away in an instant, exposing the black carapace beneath. Flesh and sinew, mixed with pale ceramic bone, absorbed the bolters' lethal momentum and extreme heat, shattering themselves to stop the rounds from penetrating deeper into their bodies.
Great blackened holes appeared across the Imperial Fists' bodies. No blood flowed from them, for their blood vessels had already been seared shut by the