Chapter 141: Abaddon's Victory
Abaddon sensed his warriors' morale wavering. He knew the Primarch's power well enough; he'd seen what Horus could do. But he was destined to become a war commander, and he couldn't back down in front of his own legion.
He raised the Talon of Horus. The weapon trembled slightly. Whether from a psionic reaction or his own inner turmoil, he couldn't tell.
He took a deep breath and roared.
"Primarchs were human, too! They also had a head and two arms!"
"We have nothing to fear from him! The Black Legion is invincible!"
"Let them see our power! Let them feel our WRAITH With me CHARGE!!"
The Black Legion warriors regained confidence under his call and followed their leader, charging toward the Imperial positions. Abaddon led the charge himself, determined to prove he was the true successor to Horus and shatter whatever understanding they had of the original.
When the two armies clashed, Dorn had already left his position. His massive body moved like a walking fortress, each step shaking the earth. Abaddon raised the Talon and charged toward him, trying to gain the upper hand.
Dorn hadn't expected the other to refuse surrender, much less attack him. He shook his head and swung the chainsword in his hand, Storm's Teeth, through the air with a golden arc.
Clang!
Abaddon blocked with his claws, but his arm went numb instantly. The impact knocked him back several steps. Yet a hint of joy appeared on his face. The Primarch was not so remarkable after all.
"Hmm! Not bad," Dorn said, raising an eyebrow. He was surprised that this warrior could withstand his casual strike.
Dorn swung down again like lightning. Abaddon used his claws to block, but he was sent flying backward. His body slammed hard into the ground, raising dust and leaving shockwaves in the air.
Pfft~
Abaddon tried to stand, but blood gushed from his mouth. An internal injury. He coughed, and before he could regain his footing, Dorn swept in again. The enormous impact sent him flying dozens of meters before he crashed heavily to the ground.
The mighty Abaddon had fallen.
The Black Legion warriors stared blankly at the scene. Their morale collapsed instantly.
"What the hell?!"
"Run for your lives!"
"The Primarchs are indeed beyond our capabilities!"
They hadn't expected to lose so quickly. The Black Legion fell into chaos. Several Chaos Hellbeasts dragged Abaddon away in haste. Despite being severely wounded, he continued to roar, blood gushing from his mouth.
"RETREAT!"
With an incredibly powerful roar, the Black Legion disengaged from the battlefield and retreated toward the landing pods. Abaddon turned his head to say something and saw that Dorn's bolter was already aimed at him. He rushed to cover.
The Black Legion's fleet retreated into the void before they could catch their breath. Behind them, the Imperial Fists' warships were already flying in pursuit.
The Black Legion's fleet sped through the interstellar void, its shimmering shields enduring fierce bombardment from the Imperial Fists. Rogal Dorn's fleet pursued like relentless hunters, their naval guns striking with terrifying accuracy. Each shot tore through the Black Legion's defenses, forcing the Chaos ships to scatter and flee for their lives.
Abaddon slumped in his chair, his face grim, his fists clenched. On the screen, the Imperial fleet clung to the Black Legion like ghosts.
"Speed up! We have to shake them off!" Abaddon yelled, then was seized by rapid coughs.
"That's impossible!" the captain growled anxiously. "They're too fast! We must take cover in warp space immediately." He still harbored some resentment in his heart. They couldn't possibly win, yet Abaddon had insisted on coming anyway.
Abaddon slammed his fist on the command platform and roared.
"Then let's open a rift! Cough cough..."
The adjutant paused, hesitating.
"But... forcibly tearing apart subspace could lead to unpredictable consequences..."
"Execute the order!" Abaddon roared, spitting blood as he spoke.
With the order given, the Vengeful Spirit and the other surviving Chaos ships changed direction, forcibly tearing open a warp rift.
The instant the crack formed, the Imperial Fists fleet's artillery fire intensified. Dorn's flagship approached the Vengeful Spirit, almost completely tearing through its shields.
"All ships, enter the rift! Now!" Abaddon roared, coughing violently and spitting out clots of blood. He picked one up absently, examining it. "So it was the liver."
The Black Legion's fleet forced its way into the rift. The surrounding void shimmered like a shattered mirror, tearing at the ships. A violent psionic storm tossed the crew in all directions, and alarms blared like thunder within the cabins.
The moment the rift closed, the Imperial fleet halted its pursuit. Dorn stood on the bridge, coldly watching the rift dissipate.
As the Black Legion ships steadied amid the violent shaking, a sinister, labyrinthine scene unfolded on the screen.
Abaddon's eyes lit up instantly.
"Brothers! This is all part of my plan," he announced, his voice deep and resonant. "The Primarchs are powerful, but they cannot kill us! And this is our destination. As long as we conquer this labyrinth, that means our expedition has been a success!"
Black Legion: "???"
What Abaddon didn't say was that a golden figure had appeared in his mind, telling him the Daemon Sword Drach'nyen was here. As long as he obtained it, he would be able to defeat the Primarch.
Kamo
In the laboratory of the Abyss Roar, Francis stood beside a cold metal workbench, holding a vial of deep red liquid in his hands. He slowly poured the slightly viscous blood into his mouth. It gently flowed across the tip of his tongue, then the middle, and finally the back. The fresh, sweet flavor spread out, no trace of rottenness, just like the first strawberry of autumn.
It tastes like first love.
Immediately, information surfaced in his mind.
"The Silent Sister, Emria Hecatez. Likes chrysanthemums. Born near the Bellardone region. Untouchable."
Francis was silent for a while. Apart from gaining the ability to perceive her presence as a woman, he had not acquired any other skills. This made him frown. The abilities of the Untouchables were very special and could not be obtained through blood alone. This frustrated him; this was the second type of being, besides the Necrons, from whom he couldn't acquire abilities.
Furthermore, he could not clone a human with the same characteristics using the Silent Sister's genes.
As soon as Francis emerged from the laboratory, he saw several nuns staring intently at him. Some of them gestured wildly with their hands.
"Primarch, what's the situation? Any new discoveries?" one asked.
"Is there not enough blood? We can bleed more," offered another.
"Primarch! Please say something!" a third pleaded.
Francis shook his head, and disappointment flickered across their faces.
In their view, they would be willing to die for the Emperor. Their only fear was that they wouldn't be able to help him.
"But..." Francis drew out his words, and hope shone in their eyes again.
"Emria Hecate's blood is rather special!"
Emria trembled with excitement. She didn't care about anything else and grabbed Francis's arm, her eyes sparkling.
"Don't get agitated," Francis said, his voice magnetic. "Your blood is indeed special. However, you've been eating too much sugar lately...your blood sugar is a bit high. You really need to be careful!"
The Silent Sisters exchanged confused glances.
"Um!" Emria's fists were clenched hard, so angry she almost cried out. Luckily, the nuns around her pulled her back.
Just as Francis was pondering other ways to stabilize the Emperor, the Emperor's voice came to him.
"Return to Terra." No explanation, just go back to Terra.
Francis frowned slightly, sensing that the Emperor seemed much colder than before.
Terra
Francis walked heavily through Terra Square. The streets were bustling and magnificent, with vendors' cries and vehicle engines mingling together. Yet these sounds seemed unable to drown out the whispers and murmurs among the people.
He heard strange rumors.
"Have you heard?" a tired lady spoke softly in front of a stall. "Some people are saying the Emperor is the Grim Reaper. That his ascension ceremony means most people will die soon, and only the chosen ones can go to Eden and survive."
Francis paused for a moment but didn't turn around. He quickened his pace. How could such a thing have gotten out?
Not far away, a group of relatively ordinary-looking citizens were gathered in a circle, arguing about something.
"The Emperor is a god!" a young man said emotionally. "They say he's actually a god-emperor! We are all God's children!"
"I heard that the Empire made us have more children just for sacrifice," an older man responded in a low voice. "To sacrifice all of us, so that only the Emperor and those two-meter-tall warriors would survive. I've heard about the Death Worship Cult..."
Francis frowned. At that moment, all he wanted was to see the Emperor as soon as possible.
The magnificent architecture of Terra Palace finally came into his view. He walked through the long corridor and arrived at the entrance to the throne room.
The heavy double doors slowly opened, creaking with the sound of ancient metal. Francis stepped into this solemn space.
As his gaze swept across the hall, he noticed a group of tech priests from the Cult Mechanicus standing there. One stood out; he recognized him at first glance.
Belisarius Cawl.
An archmagos dominus of the Mechanicus and one of the Empire's most outstanding tech priests.
[End of Chapter]
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