No one knew when Angron had arrived on the battlefield. Not even the uninterrupted scans of thousands upon thousands of servo-skulls had detected any trace of the Primarch.
It was as if some sorcerous power had transported him onto this battlefield. The Lord of the World Eaters immediately locked onto the key figure behind Amatla's destruction.
"Move!"
Angron said.
"No!"
Faced with his gene-father's contemptuous words, Khârn's heart surged with rage and courage. He fixed his gaze on Angron and even raised his battle-axe, intending to stop his own gene-father.
Yet the colossal figure, like an ancient Titan, casually swept him to the edge of the battlefield.
Khârn's massive body flew across half the battlefield like a shell from an Emperor's Poison Blade. He smashed through bodies and steel vehicles in his path; the gap between them was not something any so-called enchantment ritual could bridge.
Primarchs were extraordinary beings created by the Emperor. Their essence of life was utterly different from that of mortal creatures.
Many believed Primarchs were gods walking among mortals. That belief had not come from nowhere.
Roaring, Angron was a monster that had crawled out of the deepest nightmare. Gorefather and Gorechild churned in his hands as he stared fixedly at Ophio and spoke.
"He belongs to me!"
Facing the murderous intent of the World Eaters' Primarch crashing toward him like towering waves, even Ophio's expression stiffened. The face beneath his helmet drained of color, but his unmatched will soon drove away the pressure Angron had imposed.
Even Angron could not make him submit.
"Retreat!"
The prearranged command activated within the helmets of the Victorious Army. These Ultramarines, deep in battle, swiftly disengaged and rushed toward their commander with utter disregard for their own lives.
The Ultramarines on the outer perimeter repeated the retreat order