He, Fulgrim, Chosen of Slaanesh, the Phoenix, was now like a great serpent with its tail caught in a trap, besieged by a gang of cleaners armed with flamethrowers and stun guns.
Humiliation.
Utter humiliation.
And for him, who fed on "perfection" and "pride," that humiliation drove him mad far more than any physical wound.
"Enough..."
Daemon Fulgrim lowered his head, and the daemon swords in his four hands stopped swinging.
The air suddenly fell still.
Even the thunder of the relentless bombardment seemed distant in that instant.
Alarm bells screamed in Letorion's mind. "Fall back! Everyone, fall back!!!"
"You think..."
The Daemon Primarch slowly raised his head. Neither contempt nor anger remained on that horrifying face, only a utterly twisted, dangerously intense madness.
His eyes became whirlpools of pure black.
"You think these scavenged scraps, these little tricks, can imprison a... god?"
Crack!!!
A sharp snap rang out.
It came from the miniature "Necron Obelisk."
Overloaded by the Daemon Primarch's eruption of power as he burned his own essence without restraint, the Obelisk's core shattered.
The shackles imposed by the veil of reality broke.
As the Obelisk shattered, the suppressed pink mist erupted like a flood bursting through a dam.
Boom!
An invisible psychic shock wave radiated outward from the Daemon Primarch.
The Gravitic Anchor Vehicles caught in its path were twisted into corkscrews. The Skitarii inside became joyous fireworks of flesh and blood before they could even scream.
Next came the Terminators fighting at close quarters.
Even sturdy Terminator Armour proved fragile before the tides of the Warp. Dozens of elite warriors were hurled away. Some had their armour begin mutating in midair, sprouting spikes and mouths that began devouring their wearers.
"Hold your minds steady! Don't listen to that voice!"
Letorion roared. One of his bionic eyes