No to disembowelment

He floated around to face me, smiling down.
‘Put that away, Gregor. Don’t worry. I won’t kill you. Lyko has no power over me. I’ll deal with his complaints later, and—’
‘Who does have power over you? Who is your master? Tell me! You caused the atrocity on Thracian, didn’t you! Why? On whose orders?’
‘Just go away, Gregor. This is not your concern now. Go away.’
I think he was honestly surprised when I hacked the power sword into his chest.
I don’t really know if I had imagined I could do him any harm.
The blessed blade almost disembowelled him before it exploded and hurled me backwards.
He looked down in dismay at the wound across his torso. Warp energies, bright and toxic, were spilling out of it. In a second, the wound closed as if it had never been.
‘You little fool,’ said Cherubael.
I found myself flying backwards through the air, blood in my mouth.



"Malleus", Chapter Eleven