A dull crash tore through the silence aboard the ship. An enormous dark shape smashed through several steel bulkheads and plunged like a meteor into the flame-wreathed landing bay.
Thick smoke mingled with firelight, and the air reeked of molten metal and scorched flesh.
The landing bay had become a slaughterhouse. Not a single soul remained alive.
The bodies of the boarding Khorne Bloodmark berserkers, World Eaters legionaries, and Dawn soldiers lay piled together. Shattered aircraft wreckage buckled in the flames, and the blood pouring from the dead had stained the cold deck dark red, almost congealing.
The aftershock of Angron's impact shook the entire area.
His right wing hung limply at an unnatural, broken angle. His left wing was already gone, as was the great axe he usually wielded.
He struggled to climb out of the crater he had made, every movement pulling at broken bones and torn muscles.
Bona stepped through the enormous breach, his stride steady, as though the fierce battle had barely taxed him. His sword remained keen, dark red blood slowly dripping down its spine onto the deck with a faint patter.
In his left hand, he casually carried an enormous fleshy wing he had just ripped from Angron's body. The veins in its membrane still twitched.
"Get up, you worthless wretch."
Bona's voice was quiet, yet carried unquestionable authority, cutting clearly through the crackle of the flames.
"Get up, just as you did when you slaughtered an entire planet's innocent people at will!"
A thunderous roar rose from deep in Angron's throat, laden with boundless pain and fury.
His eyes glowed crimson, rage devouring the last of his reason. In the blink of an eye, he actually launched himself from the crater, swinging the Black Blade in his hand down at Bona.
Yet Bona