They emerged from the sewers into a vast underground cavern formed from countless abandoned pipes and metal platforms.
This was the Genestealer Cult's gathering place.
Tens of thousands of cultists crowded together here. Their forms varied wildly: first- and second-generation hybrids who still retained human appearances, and third- and fourth-generation hybrids who had already grown extra arms and carapaces.
At their center stood a hideous altar built from flesh and metal. Atop it sat a bloated, enormous monster resembling a maggot. Its body constantly secreted slime, and countless probes extended from its flesh, connecting it to the most zealous cultists around it.
It was the Crawling Patriarch, the cult's supreme spiritual leader.
Beside it stood a four-armed hybrid dressed in a bishop's robes. He was the brains of the cult, Bishop Tyrantis Primus.
"My children!" Bishop Primus preached to the cultists below in his beguiling voice. "I have heard it! The C'tan are descending! The great Devourer will free us from these prisons of flesh! We will gain eternal life! We will become one!"
The cultists erupted in fanatical cheers.
Just then, Horus strode out of the shadows with his squad.
"Sorry to interrupt."
His voice was quiet, yet it reached every ear with perfect clarity.
"I'm afraid your ascension services will have to be delayed."
Every gaze instantly focused on the uninvited guests.
"Imperial lapdogs!" A vicious gleam flashed in Bishop Primus's eyes. "Kill them! Offer their flesh to the great Four-Armed Emperor!"
Thousands of cultists armed with mining picks and crude weapons surged toward Horus and his squad like a tide.
Horus did not move.
He simply stood there in silence, then unleashed his power.
[Primordial Fire], full activation!
Yet an invisible will, warm as sunlight, instantly spread from him and enveloped the entire underground cavern.
That will