Chapter 175: Abaddon Strikes Again
A strange mine in subspace, the rock walls seemed to pulse with flesh and blood, glowing an ominous dark red.
Deep in the mine, Abaddon swung a broken warhammer with tremendous force, smashing it against the ore-studded walls. His power armor, slicked with sweat and dust, wreathed in distorted warp-aura, appeared even more ferocious.
"Phew!" He paused, wiping his brow. "If we mine another two thousand cartloads of this ore, we'll have enough to buy a warship!
Damn, the black market is driving prices down so much. Once I get those warships, I'll rob you all first." He said this fiercely, digging deeper with his warhammer into the ironium embedded in the rock.
These ores, distorted and flickering under the warp's influence, sometimes transformed into shrieking faces, sometimes into burning runes, as if mocking his almost absurd persistence.
"Eighty!" he counted.
"Eighty!" Abaddon remained unmoved, smashing these illusions to pieces with each swing until the ore fell to the ground, piling wealth at his feet.
Suddenly, in the distorted light deep within the mine, a Black Legion warrior slowly emerged, cautiously approaching Abaddon.
"Lord Abaddon!" The soldier's voice echoed in the mine, tinged with hesitation and urgency. He stood at a distance, waiting for a response.
Abaddon didn't look up and continued digging. The rock wall cracked open, spewing black smoke, a mineral essence from the depths of nothingness.
A moment later, he threw down his warhammer and turned around. His eyes burned with fiery rage in the dark red light.
"Explain!" His voice was deep, carrying irresistible authority.
"Yes!" The soldier immediately straightened. "Someone came seeking an audience. They claim they can help us build warships and are willing to exchange minerals for resources directly."
Abaddon narrowed his eyes and slowly stepped forward, approaching the warrior, who instinctively took a step back. The air pressure seemed to increase, and even the rock walls around the mine made slight cracking sounds.
"Call me General next time," Abaddon said in a low voice, utterly devoid of emotion.
"Yes, General"
"Very good! Say something wrong again next time, and I'll deal with you through our law!" After he finished speaking, he picked up his war hammer, slung it over his shoulder, and strode toward the mine exit.
A Mechanicus warship appeared before them, and Abaddon emerged with a broad smile shortly after entering.
He immediately roared, "Black Legion, assemble! Our Target is Australn!"
"Those foolish Imperial worms are still clinging to life in that star system, thinking they can hinder our advance. Now, we will pave the glorious path of the Black Crusade with their blood!"
Abaddon's deep voice echoed across the deck. The Black Legion warriors let out low roars and howls. Their bodies, corrupted by chaos, were no longer entirely human, yet each warrior exuded fighting frenzy and thirst for destruction.
Like ghosts in the night, the fleet tore through the barrier between reality and the warp, bursting from the Eye of Terror. They advanced with unstoppable momentum, achieving victory in every endeavor.
Woo woo woo!
....
On the planet Australn, one after another, airdrop pods crashed into the earth like iron rain, and billowing dust obscured the sky. At Abaddon's command, countless warriors clad in black and gold armor poured from the hatches, their ferocious battle roars echoing across the battlefield.
"For Horus!"
The blood-curdling war cries didn't deter the Imperial residents; it seemed commonplace to them.
"Damn it! This is the poison of the Empire!" Abaddon shouted. "They must have been brainwashed! The Black Legion WITH MEE!"
Abaddon, sword in hand, was about to charge forward when the monastery gates opened.
Squeak~
In that instant, all the inhabitants screamed in utter terror.
"Aaaaaah! Run!"
"God has appeared! Run away!"
"Ah! Ah! Ah!"
The inhabitants scrambled out, the air thick with panic, while Abaddon stared in confusion. "???"
The Black Legion warriors looked at each other, questioning what was even happening.
An unusual low-frequency hum came from underground, like a whisper from the abyss. The ground trembled, and crimson sap seeped from the cracks, accompanied by ominous steam and a foul stench. An indescribable sense of oppression filled the air, causing the Black Legion warriors to raise their weapons warily.
What's going on?
"They are trying to play tricks! We are Chaos, we've seen it all!" one warrior shouted.
"Exactly! Let these mortals see what true power is!" another added.
The Black Legion warriors continued to cheer each other on.
Then, countless indescribable creatures emerged. Strange whispers began to ring in their ears.
Sarpedon and the Soul Drinkers emerged, their bodies mutated by the blood and flesh of countless enemies.
A deformed mouth-like appendage, writhing like a deep-sea tentacle, appeared beneath Sarpedon's helmet, radiating twisted psychological pressure.
His armor was covered with blood-red organs that resembled eyeballs, constantly dripping viscous liquid. Dozens of flesh and blood growths erupted from his back into arms and gaping mouthparts, while he chanted various psionic spells.
The bodies of the other Soul Drinkers were mutated entirely.
Some had arms that twisted into jagged bone blades. Some had a pair of indistinct wings that split open on their backs. Some even had chunks of flesh spreading from their feet as if they had merged with the earth itself.
"Aaaaaah! My eyes!" one Black Legion warrior screamed.
"These are soldiers of the Empire?!" another shouted in disbelief.
"Have we really thrown ourselves into chaos?!" a third yelled.
The warriors of the Black Legion watched in horror as the opponents' forms had severely damaged their mental well-being.
Seeing the other party in this state, many warriors roared and began transforming into Chaos Spawn.
Abaddon was also stunned, his mind racing. Did Chaos truly bless me? What's going on with the other party? They didn't join chaos; how is that possible? What is going on here?
Then, the answers were finally revealed.
He heard the enemy's battle cry!
"For Francis!"
"For Francis!"
In particular, he saw Sarpedon simultaneously unleash over a dozen bolts of psionic lightning from his dozen mouths and arms.
"This is ridiculous, DIE all of you!" Abaddon roared, his power claws blazing with fell energy as he charged forward.
When the Black Legion's chainsword struck the Soul Drinker's flesh, blood and tissue fell to the ground. More tentacles grew out.
"No, you..." one warrior began.
At this point, they should have realized that the nature of this battle had changed.
The blood-red sky surged like liquid, constantly dripping viscous blood rain that stained the earth deep crimson. The air reeked of metal and gore.
Curze stood atop a mountain made of countless skulls.
Their faces bore the last expressions of their deaths: confusion, helplessness, anger, shock, fear...as if still screaming their resentment before they died.
The mountainside was densely covered with severed limbs and broken bodies. Putrid blood meandered down the slope in grotesque rivers.
Curze's hands were covered in blood. He held a long blade with drops still dripping from it. His entire body was soaked in gore, the original color of his armor unrecognizable.
"Kill!" he screamed. "Kill them! They all deserve to die! Kill! Kill! Kill!"
His face was contorted, his eyes bloodshot, his roar not quite human. But soon he became extremely pained, screaming incessantly.
"I am guilty! I am guilty too! Everyone should die!" He swung his battle axe wildly at empty air, yet with each swing, it seemed unseen enemies fell, and more blood gushed out, seeping into the mountain of skulls.
His knees buckled. His trembling hands grasped a bloodstained skull, staring into its empty eye sockets as if seeing the boy's former face. His voice grew low, filled with pain and regret.
"No! I did nothing wrong! Only by killing you will they remain fearful! They wouldn't hurt any more people!" At that very moment, the whisper of the Blood God resounded once more.
"Kill, Curze, keep killing. Only blood can atone for your sins! Only killing can bring you liberation!"
On the enormous brass throne in the sky, the figure continued to beguile him, determined to obtain this Primarch.
Even in real life, Curze's face showed even greater anguish.
Suddenly—
Rumble~
A dazzling light pierced the darkness as a meteorite crashed into the warship's interior, tearing a scorching gash through its thick armor. Golden-red light burst forth from the breach, and scorching air pounded against the surrounding metal panels, causing them to groan under the strain.
The Night Lords immediately surrounded the breach, and Francis slowly emerged.
"You little brats, get out of my way! You don't even recognize me anymore? Believe it or not, I'll cut off your new notebooks! And your new death rock playlists!"
Upon hearing this, the Night Lords were overjoyed.
"Lord Francis has arrived!"
"The Primarch can be saved!"
They all made way as Francis and a meteorite quickly walked toward the medical area.
[End of Chapter]
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