Horus's bodyguard Lysander had already led his Terminator army in occupying most of the outer areas. The corridors remained cold, steeped in death and darkness.
"Clean and tidy" no longer had anything to do with these corridors. Scrap metal and machine oil covered the floors, and the wrecks of Automatons blocked many passages. The already dim lights had all shattered. With the airlocks lost, the outer passages had been vented of air, leaving only a few scattered points of flame.
What a pity. If the defenders here had been the Automaton army they had fought during the Unification Wars on Terra, Abaddon would already have been lying on the floor.
Lysander felt the temperature rising around him. He believed his outstanding troops had set the entire Gloriana-class Battleship ablaze.
He even ordered them to focus on killing the enemy and stop damaging the ship, believing it was already his for the taking.
In truth, this had nothing to do with him.
The Iron Fist was cold on the outside, its basic structure consisting of bleak lights and chill steel walls. Inside lay scorching forges. The closer one came to the Core Region, the hotter it grew.
Just like Ferrus Manus.
The rising temperature meant Lysander had successfully approached the inner forge area. It also meant wounded Iron Hands warriors no longer needed to be dragged through long corridors to have prosthetics fitted. They returned to battle with increasing frequency, giving Lysander the illusion that the enemy still had several companies of fighting men.
The Terminator Force continued its steady advance. It was now difficult to call these troops the Justaerin. Too many other Terminators had joined their ranks, leaving the force grotesquely bloated. Its only advantage was its sheer size.
Only when searing heat enveloped these powerful Chaos Warriors, and