The Light of the People's scanners showed an enormous concentration of warships. Red dots kept appearing at the edge of the display, and as the distance closed, even large red dots appeared out of nowhere.
"How long until the main gun is ready?"
"Approximately 530 seconds."
"Where will the enemy be in 530 seconds?"
"Directly beneath us."
"No, they won't be that fast. On my orders, all forces fall back. Leave the Warp breach open. Daemons, eh? Go try your luck against them."
Without even turning his head, Evan called out, "William, what kind of ships are they?"
"Aeldari designs. Their allegiance is uncertain, but they look like a coalition. They have every class of warship-a complete expeditionary fleet."
"Of course. There are so many Kabals, each with its own style. Let's send them a Daemon army first."
As the Light of the People retreated, the shrieks of Slaaneshi Daemons began echoing through this vital Webway junction.
A Greater Daemon lunged toward the Light of the People.
The King of Sapphires had been born at the moment Ferrus Manus, Primarch of the Iron Hands, died. The Primarch's boundless regret had given the Daemon physical form, and undying fury flowed within its body. It had been forged from the ripples that all of Ferrus Manus's emotions stirred in the Warp.
From the moment Fulgrim severed Ferrus Manus's head, the King of Sapphires had inherited the Primarch's connection to his sons.
Warriors bearing the Iron Hands' gene-seed despised weak flesh. Under its malicious guidance, that loathing gradually extended to humanity, emotion, and everything else that made them human.
Yet those things were precisely what connected humans, as faintly psychic beings, to the Warp. The emotions suppressed in the deepest recesses of the Astartes' hearts became the King of Sapphires' power.
It had