Xanynhakh waited. It had been but hours since his arrival on Kun Roth. The planet wept, storms raging, even within the domed city where the majority of the Exodite population lived.

His scouting party had reported a nearby contingent of Eldar forces, newly arrived from the Ulthwé craftworld. They were near a park, with areas of dense undergrowth. With Varyozh’s aid, the Annihilator formulated his plan. He would advance upon his foe from the park, whilst sending his Immortals to capture a point of high ground in the city, off to the east of the Eldar position.

Xanynhakh would lead the southern assault personally. This would place him closest to the combat. As he stood in the copse, unyielding robot warriors at his side, he saw it. The flicker of flame that betrayed the presence of an Avatar of Khaine.

The rain began to pour, bouncing off the metal plates that made up the Phaeron’s body. He raised his warscythe, and any mortal might have said he smiled. This was going to be fun.