Data from the battlefield streamed endlessly into Guilliman's helm, an information flow gathered by the vast war intelligence system and transformed into a detailed analysis of the battlefield by the primarch's mind, comparable to an artificial intelligence.
The lord of the Ultramarines realized that fighting on the soil of Nuceria had been a mistake. The god behind Angron could project its power through the rituals conducted on this planet, and the unending stream of daemons was the clearest proof.
Previously, on Calth, although those daemons had been able to appear on the battlefield, it had never been so easy. The barriers of reality had hindered their invasion, but on Nuceria, the veil of reality had long since been muddled.
The war, bloodshed, and death taking place on this planet were all strengthening the power of the Warp god. No matter which side bled or died, the Blood God delighted in this fine feast.
The rage in Guilliman's heart grew ever more fevered. He sensed something was wrong; something was fueling his anger.
With every swing of the Gladius Incandor, the primarch felt his blade becoming sharper. He could even sever the psychic blasts unleashed by Lorgar.
In a sense, that evil god of the Warp was fair.
As long as one was willing to follow its rules, even if they stood on the opposing side, it would generously bestow its blessings.
But that did not mean the Warp god was harmless. This conceptual power made Guilliman all the more wary.
Lorgar's psychic assaults were having less effect on him, but that was hardly something to celebrate. This battlefield was suppressing psychic power.
With an enraged heavy blow, he smashed his fist into Lorgar's breastplate, instantly shattering the armor. Lorgar tried to regain his breathing rhythm, but Guilliman seized the opportunity