Gravity bore down on his body.
The black floor beneath Angron’s feet let out a web of sharp cracks.
The air felt as if it had been filled with lead, pressing against his shoulders, spine, and knees, making even his breathing grow heavy.
In midair, a set of platinum power armor drifted slowly downward.
The anti-gravity wings behind the Guard Commander unfolded into twin arcs of light.
A melta-sword hung at his side, its blade burning white-hot.
He was in no hurry to land.
Cautious.
And clever.
He hovered just out of Angron’s reach.
“You’re already too slow,” the Guard Commander’s voice chimed through his helmet.
“With every breath that passes, fewer slaves remain at the base of the spire.” Angron looked up at him.
The surrounding silver-white pillars were still glowing.
Waves of gravitational force pressed down continuously, like invisible giant hands pinning down his bones.
The terminal lay dropped at the edge of the hall.
Its screen was cracked, but still lit.
On the map of the lower level, a cluster of red dots was winking out into darkness.
The Guard Commander didn’t look at the terminal.
His gaze stayed fixed on Angron.
Waiting for him to move.
Angron knew what he was waiting for.
Rage.
Pursuit.
Loss of control.
He knew this tactic all too well.
He had seen it, played it, and cursed at it in his past life.
A fast enemy would deliberately dance in front of your face, drop a bit of damage, pull back to create distance, and lead you straight into a trap.
There was an ugly term for it.
Kiting.
Right now, the Guard Commander was kiting him.
Except this time, there was no loading a save from outside the screen.
If he let himself be led around, the people below would die.
Angron took a breath.
The metallic stench of blood in his lungs had yet to fade.
“Your name.” The Guard Commander tilted his head slightly.
“What?” “I’ll remember it before you die.” The platinum figure in midair paused for a fraction of a second.
The next instant, blue light burst from his anti-gravity wings.
The Guard Commander vanished from where he stood.
The melta-sword slashed in from Angron’s left.
It was blazingly fast.
The blade sliced through the air, leaving a blinding white streak in its wake.
Angron turned and raised his arm.
The melta-sword swept across his forearm, instantly charring the flesh.
His bone shuddered.
Pain shot from the wound into the back of his mind.
The remnants of the Butcher’s Nails embedded in his brain flared up, tearing that spark of pain into a raging fire along his nerves.
The Guard Commander had already pulled back.
He didn’t greedily push for a second strike.
The platinum armor flipped through the air, landed on a pillar on the far side of the hall, and launched itself off again.
“Varok Tark,” he said.
“Remember the name.” Angron turned.
The moment his foot moved, the gravity field slammed down with increased force.
The cracks in the floor deepened.
Varok let out a quiet laugh.
“Can you even walk?” Angron gave no answer.
He took a single step forward.
The floor sank half a foot.
A second step.
The glow on the pillars brightened.
On the third step, Varok dived once more.
This time, his target was no longer Angron’s chest.
The blade aimed straight for the back of his knee.
Angron raised his leg and took the hit head-on.
The melta-sword bit into flesh, only to be clamped tight by the bulging muscles behind his knee.
Varok reacted instantly.
He released the hilt and flipped backward.
Angron reached out to grab him.
His fingertips merely brushed the edge of the platinum armor.
Varok pulled a short spear from his other side and pointed at the gaping hole at the hall’s edge.
“Fire.” The whirring of mechanical gears echoed from below.
Embrasure ports hidden within the hall walls slid open, but their barrels weren’t aimed at Angron.
They swiveled toward the shaft he had punched through to get up here.
Karrus, the tech-slaves, and the maintenance workers were still on the level below.
Angron’s gaze darkened.
He turned and sprinted toward the shaft.
This was the exact moment Varok had been waiting for.
The anti-gravity wings traced a blue arc through the air.
He swept past Angron’s back, driving the short spear straight into the previous wound.
The spearhead surged with neural current.
The back of Angron’s head erupted with agonistic sparks.
His vision whited out briefly.
The embrasures along the walls opened fire simultaneously.
Bullets and thermal beams rained down into the shaft.
Angron didn’t turn to grab Varok.
He slammed his foot down to crack the floor, grabbed a half-broken slab of black flooring, and hurled it horizontally over the shaft opening.
*Boom!* The floor slab wedged into the shaft opening, blocking most of the incoming fire.
A few remaining thermal beams grazed the edges, turning the metal glowing hot.
Karrus’s roar echoed from below.
“We’re fine!” Varok had already flown to the far end of the hall.
“How many times can you protect them?” He raised his hand.
A new set of embrasures slid open.
This batch was aimed at the opposite side of the hall.
Right where the tech-slaves were likely to climb up.
Angron stood his ground.
Rage surged upward from his chest.
He wanted nothing more than to charge over.
Grasp that platinum shell.
Drag him out of the air.
And smash him into the ground over and over again.
The thought was simple, satisfying, and extremely dangerous.
Varok was waiting for him to do precisely that.
Angron looked up at the Guard Commander hovering in midair, the green light deep in his eyes glowing darker and more intense.
He didn’t chase.
He looked down at the hall.
The circular hall was broad.
The perimeter was open.
The ceiling was high.
The pillars provided perches for Varok, the walls sheltered the embrasures, the gravity field suppressed ground targets, and the anti-gravity wings gave an airborne target room to maneuver.
This room had been custom-built to counter him.
The High Riders treated him like a beast that did nothing but smash against its cage.
Then he would dismantle the cage first.
Angron turned and walked toward the nearest silver-white pillar.
The voice beneath Varok’s helmet turned noticeably colder.
“What are you doing?” Angron ignored him.
He seized the pillar.
The gravity field surged with another surge of pressure.
The surrounding embrasures swiveled toward him all at once.
Varok dived in from behind.
Angron’s shoulders and back flexed tight, his arms exploding with force.
*Crack!* The first pillar was ripped up by its roots.
The gravity field lurched.
Varok’s speed faltered by a fraction.
The melta-sword grazed Angron’s shoulder, shearing off a piece of charred flesh.
Angron spun around and swept the uprooted pillar in a brutal arc.
Varok barely dodged in time.
The pillar slammed into the wall.
Three embrasures were flattened instantly.
The sirens in the hall turned piercingly sharp.
Angron moved toward the second pillar.
Varok finally lost his calm.
“Suppress him!” The remaining pillars flared blindingly bright.
Gravity crushed down like an entire mountain.
Angron’s ankles sank into the floor.
The muscles across his back tore open.
The moment the wounds split, his Hulk Bloodline forcibly knit them back together.
He laid hands on the second pillar.
Varok swept in again at high speed.
This time he didn’t attack Angron.
He charged toward the shaft opening.
Aiming for the lower level blocked by the slab.
Angron’s eye twitched.
Varok was trying to force him to let go.
Either protect the pillar or protect the people below.
Angron did not release the pillar.
He kicked up the broken half of the melta-sword lying on the floor.
The very sword Varok had dropped moments earlier.
The broken hilt spun through the air like a white meteor.
Varok veered sharply in midair.
The edge clipped his anti-gravity wing.
The blue light flickered in chaos.
He slammed into the wall and instantly ricocheted off.
Angron tore out the second pillar.
A corner of the gravity field collapsed.
Below, Karrus led the others charging upward.
“Stay back!” Angron bellowed.
Karrus popped his head out and stopped immediately.
The next moment, Varok dove from above.
Barrels and blade pointed straight at them.
Angron grabbed the second pillar and hurled it at the shaft’s rim.
The pillar lodged across the top of the hole, blocking Varok’s diving vector.
Varok was forced to pull up.
He had just lost another piece of maneuvering room.
Angron saw it.
It was working.
He continued toward the third pillar.
Varok finally understood what Angron was aiming to do.
The circular hall was broad, giving him room to circle.
If all the pillars fell, the hall would turn into a slanted pile of rubble.
The embrasures would be blocked.
The gravity field would destabilize.
No matter how fast the anti-gravity wings were, there would be no space left to weave through.
“You think tearing down a few pillars will let you reach me?” Laced with anger, Varok’s voice echoed.
Angron seized the third pillar.
“Come down and test it.” Varok didn’t come down.
He surged toward the top of the hall.
A narrow gap opened in the ceiling.
That was the real path to the main control layer.
He was trying to escape.
Angron looked up.
Of course.
If you can’t win, stall.
If you can’t stall, run.
And while he gave chase, the people below would keep dying.
Angron didn’t jump.
He ripped out the third pillar, gripped it with both hands, and hurled it upward at the gap.
The massive silver-white pillar rocketed skyward.
Varok veered in midair.
He dodged it.
But the pillar hadn’t been aimed at him.
It smashed into the ceiling gap, wedging right inside the opening mechanism.
The gap could no longer close.
Nor could it open any wider.
Varok glanced back and spat a curse in Nucerian noble tongue.
Angron was already striding toward the fourth pillar.
The hall began to tilt.
Fracturing noises echoed from inside the walls.
One embrasure after another jammed shut.
The gravity field fluctuated erratically, crushing the floor into black, scale-like fragments.
Karrus finally realized what was happening.
“He’s tearing the building down.” A maintenance slave crouched at the edge of the shaft, face pale as ash.
“This floor is going to collapse.” Karrus looked at Angron, then at Varok darting around in midair.
“Good riddance.” The fourth pillar snapped.
Half of the hall’s ceiling collapsed downward at an angle.
Varok’s anti-gravity wing clipped a falling beam.
Blue light flashed violently.
His speed dropped significantly.
Angron finally moved.
He stopped walking.
His entire body smashed through a pile of wreckage, driving straight into the narrow gap Varok was forced to pass through.
Varok tried to ascend.
Blocked by the wedged pillar overhead.
Tried to move sideways.
Blocked by the collapsed armored wall on his right.
Tried to reverse.
The erratic gravity field threw his anti-gravity wings off balance momentarily.
Angron’s hand reached him.
Five fingers clamped around the ankle of the platinum power armor.
For the first time, Varok let out a sound of shock and rage.
“Let go!” Angron ripped him out of the air.
*Boom!* Varok slammed into the floor.
Angron didn’t stop.
Grabbing the ankle, he swung him up.
And slammed him down again.
The platinum armor shattered a wall.
Swung again.
Smashing him into a severed pillar.
One of the anti-gravity wings was ripped clean off.
Varok tried to raise his hand.
Angron stomped down on his right arm.
The melta spear clattered to the ground.
The force field surrounding the Guard Commander flickered a few times before finally dying out.
Angron bent down and hoisted Varok up out of the ruined floor.
The platinum helmet was caved in.
Rapid, ragged breathing echoed from within.
“Kill me…” Varok’s voice broke intermittently.
“You can’t get up there…” Angron stared at him.
“You have clearance.” Varok’s body stiffened.
Angron grabbed his helmet and shoved it against the wall beside them.
There was an identity scanner port on the wall.
All the blast doors earlier had been controlled through systems like this.
Varok tried to struggle.
Angron tightened his grip.
The platinum armor creaked under the pressure.
“Open the door.” Varok coughed up blood.
“You think opening the door means you win?” Angron offered no reply.
He kept pressing Varok’s helmet down into the scanner.
Bone and metal ground together.
The scanner lit up with a blue glow.
[Guard Commander Clearance Confirmed] [Mid-Level Lockout Disengaged] [Main Control Layer Outer Gate Opened] Above the hall, the gap wedged open by the pillar widened.
A passage leading to the upper level was revealed.
Below, just as Karrus opened his mouth to shout, the entire spire shuddered.
The piercing sirens shifted into a low, resonant tolling.
The terminal held by the tech-slave flashed red.
His face turned pale instantly.
“The main control core is heating up!
They’re going to incinerate the control system!” Angron looked up toward the ceiling.
A cold mechanical voice echoed from the broadcast speakers.
[Main Control Core Incineration Sequence Initiated] [Countdown: Sixty Breaths] Karrus cursed under his breath.
“Sixty breaths?
To get up there from here?” Carrying the half-dead Varok, Angron walked beneath the upper passage.
He looked up at the narrow shaft still dripping sparks.
“It’s enough.” He slung Varok over his shoulder and crouched slightly.
The ground caved under his feet.
The next moment, Angron launched himself skyward.
[Fifty-Nine Breaths.]