"The grand design of the Black Crusade?"
Abaddon heard the Savior's challenge and looked even more lost.
His mind wandered over millennia—how he had inherited Horus's will, challenged Chaos lords one by one, and bent them beneath his own strength…
How he gathered Horus's sons and countless renegades under one banner—the Black Legion.
His eyes shifted, uncertain.
"What are you still hesitating for?"
Eden, seeing the Warmaster waver, grit his teeth and slapped him hard again.
"That was a glorious ideal—one that must not be forgotten. Otherwise Horus's blood was spilled for nothing!"
Opportunities to lecture like this didn't come often. It was… a little satisfying.
Eden's words sped up. "Don't you want to conquer Holy Terra, the heart of the Imperium? Don't you long to tear the False Emperor's lies apart with your own hands?"
…?
Abaddon hadn't expected those words—from the Savior of Mankind of all people. It was upside-down, heresy squared.
Could the master of the Imperium even say such things?!
Whatever the case, the words struck home.
"Yes—you failed this time, and the Dark Gods cast you aside."
Eden locked eyes with him. "But Abaddon—without alms from the Gods, can you no longer fight?
If that's who you are, you'll only earn my disappointment—and my contempt.
You are less than Horus—and even worse than that trash Huron. Perhaps you should accept your destined end."
Abaddon finally spoke, anger rising. "I have never forgotten my purpose! I will not lose to Horus—nor to anyone!"
Insinuations that he was "less than Horus" set him off every time.
With the stimm and panacea coursing through him, strength returned; flames lit in his eyes; battle will rose in his chest.
Sensing the change, Eden nodded, satisfied. "I know. Your will is stronger than Horus's. You can shed that rancid power."
He flung his arms wide, voice ringing with fevered zeal:
"Every scar is a seal of honor; every failure, a step toward victory.
Horus's sons—the Black Legion—do not fear. You do not kneel to carrion gods as cringing thralls.
You are warriors—founders of a new age!"
His voice rolled across the dais—so stirring that nearby Black Legionaries roared as one.
"Horus's sons do not yield!"
Their battle-fury surged; they hurled themselves at every foe.
The Legion's will rose like a tide—and Abaddon's gaze steadied; the warp within him gathered.
He rallied from collapse and took hold of power—no longer as charity from the gods, but the condense of reputation and faith he'd forged across ages.
From that heartbeat, the Warmaster cast off his shackles and stood as something beyond the old divisions of Chaos—
No longer leaning on the Dark Gods, but on himself.
With the mood blazing hot, Eden thrust out a hand to Abaddon.
"Rise and fight! The Eye of Terror awaits its Warmaster's return. Together we'll break the Black-hearted King and rebuild.
The blades of the Black Legion will pierce Terra's heart—slay the False Emperor—and found a new Imperium!"
He was laying it on thick to keep Laodun fired up.
Abaddon eyed the offered hand and smiled coldly. "I don't know why you saved me—but I'll accept your favor.
Pray you don't come to regret it."
Soul and strength rekindled, he clasped the Savior's hand and climbed to his feet, black fire pouring from him.
The Talon of Horus was somehow back in his grip, locking against shattered vambrace—uglier than ever.
"For the Warmaster!"
As the Despoiler rose, the Legion's morale surged; formations reknit in seconds.
Abaddon lifted his face to the roiling warp, as if swearing an oath:
"Prisoners of the Immaterium—I need no more of your stinking alms. Stuff those pitiful 'gifts' into some other puppet—say, your lapdog Blackheart.
I am not Horus. I will not rot into a mad cur. The Black Legion conquers—we do not kneel.
Force your rancid charity on us again, and we'll open your throats with our blades!"
He cut himself—formally—from the Dark Gods.
They had abandoned him; he would make them regret it.
At that moment, more Red Corsairs elites poured onto the platform, rushing the Savior and the Warmaster.
Vmm—
Eeden—Eden—snapped his legend-grade power sword to life and squared up. "Abaddon—can you still fight?"
"Obviously. Worry about yourself."
Fields crackled along the Talon in Abaddon's hand; he was ready.
Back-to-back, two of the galaxy's heavyweights met the Red Corsairs' charge, their rhythm surprisingly tight—
Every strike took a life; blood and shards carpeted the deck.
Like brothers bound in blood.
"Lord… the Savior—he won't… fall to anything bad, will he?"
Jubal, Chapter Master of the White Scars, watched the distant platform with a stormed brow.
He feared their "second father" might be tainted.
After all, the Savior had just yelled something about slaying the False Emperor and taking Holy Terra—and now he was fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with the Warmaster of Chaos.
More Chaos than the Chaos Marines!
"Don't worry. Brother Eden won't be corrupted."
The Khan cut down a lunging Lictor and never once doubted. He knew the Savior by now.
The Savior's will was iron—and he adored free loot. His care for Humanity was second to none, arguably deeper than the Emperor's, and he fought for that future.
Besides, that flamboyant peacock slathered face masks and full-body skin treatments daily, lived on wellness regimens, and medicated his skin against sunlight before stepping outdoors.
Always grooming the brand.
Would he ever allow Chaos to ruin his looks?
Still, curiosity made the Primarch glance over—and his eyes went wide.
"By the Emperor—what in all hells…"
Across the enormous platform the fight raged hotter. The Warmaster's personal guard—the Bringers of Despair—and the Savior's Thunder Custodians had arrived,
Holding the line against the Red Corsairs.
Intermixed, the two honor-guards formed a mountain-shaped defense among the ruins, pouring belt-fire down the slopes. At the mountain's peak stood the Savior and the Warmaster, honor-banners snapping over their helms.
An Imperial & Chaos brother-mountain—the most loyal of loyal, blasphemy and camaraderie welded together.
Such a joint action was rare in the Imperium's entire history.
"If Horus could see this, he'd feel… something," Eden murmured.
After ten thousand years, Horus's sons stood with Imperial warriors again—even if only for one, blasphemous moment.
"Savior… Abaddon!"
Huron Blackheart's voice rolled in—ragged with rage and warp-echo.
Bathed in a composite benediction from the Dark Gods, he loomed a head taller than both men—more twisted, more monstrous.
"You die here. There is no other outcome."
He roared and swung his skull-axe; the massive vertical eye in his chest spat a space-rending curse, belching a legion of daemons from the warp.
Then he led Red Corsairs and daemons in a fresh charge.
He meant to use the Dark Gods' gifts to execute Savior and Warmaster both—exactly as his patrons desired.
"Traitor—you'll pay."
Abaddon dropped from the rubble; the Talon of Horus vomited tainted bolts and swept a lane through his own former kin—
Then he thundered straight for Blackheart.
"Throne—Laodun chugged a whole barrel of stim?"
Eden blinked at the ferocity and sprinted after him.
Huron, swollen with boons, pressed harder than the Despoiler could alone. It would take both of them.
The Savior and Warmaster led a united charge; their coalition smashed headlong into Blackheart's horde and the field erupted again.
Lances and macro-flare turned the hall into a sunstorm.
THUD—
The Warmaster ate a brutal hit and sailed backward.
"Together!"
Eden caught him and they dove at the ever-warping pirate-king.
This wasn't just against Huron—it was against the Gods behind him. No holding back.
Gold, black, and blood-red powers tangled; shockwaves rippled in rings.
They tore great chunks from the throne-hall; Chaos pillars crashed; chain-bound sorcerers wailed in the wreckage.
"Laodun, your output's not great."
Eden side-eyed the panting Warmaster.
Without the Gods' drip-feed, he looked… lighter.
This couldn't go on.
"I… can fight. I could fight that traitor all day!"
Snarling, Abaddon straightened and lit more black fire from sheer will.
The pathetic gifts were gone—but he could still draw on the warp with iron resolve.
His own, inexhaustible spring.
It would last.
"AAAHHH—!"
Refusing the Savior's pity, he went all-in—shouldered into Blackheart and bulldozed him through wall after wall.
"That hard, huh?"
Watching the manic charge, Eden hissed, popped a few more blessings into himself—
And chased.
With Laodun tying Blackheart up, Eden found the openings and rammed home punishment.
The fight shifted—two-on-one, relentless.
"Still feel cocky?"
Eden ditched a wrecked power sword, cocked a golden fist, and planted a cannon-blow right in Blackheart's face.
Abaddon followed, daemon-blade carving a trench across the renegade's chest.
Blackheart slammed into the ship's inner bastions and stuck, bleeding hard—
But laughing.
"Hahahaha—under the Dark Gods' aegis, you pitiful wretches can't kill me.
And you missed your only chance to live."
Triumph gleamed in his eye. He'd been stalling—waiting for the hammer to fall.
Eden and Abaddon traded a look—and felt the trap spring.
They bolted backward just as the deck shuddered; the hull shook like a bell under an outside blow—
A kilometer-wide hole dissolved out of the Ark's side.
"You brought the big guns?!"
Eden's head snapped up—above them, the hull was gone, the void gaped—and not far off loomed the cavernous muzzle of a Blackstone Fortress.
Obviously, that had fired.
At this range the Fortress looked impossibly vast—black and crushing, big enough to trip anyone's megalophobia.
Luckily, that mega-lance had just fired; it would need a charge cycle.
Unluckily, other salvos were already inbound.
WHOOOM—WHOOOM—WHOOOM—
More ship-borne barrages streaked in to erase the entire sector.
Starship ordnance is death to meat and bone; no living thing tanks a direct hit.
That's Humanity's curse—bound to physics. Daemons laugh off things that paste mortals.
Reality was where Eden was least convenient: flesh had limits.
In the warp, he'd simply have flipped fleets and fed them to storms.
"If those hit us, we're in trouble!"
Eden's scalp prickled.
Time to see whether his admirals earned their pay.
At the knife-edge—
Dreamweaver lit its interception arrays, unleashing torpedoes and lances to break up the incoming.
Blossoms detonated in the dark; raining debris hammered craters into the hall—
But their speed was bled away; dodging them was almost leisurely.
Casualties—light.
WHISTLE—
No sooner had Eden exhaled than packs of Heldrakes screamed in, dropping wave after wave of burning payloads.
Dreamweaver's strike wings launched and pounced, harrying the daemon engines in snarling dogfights.
Tactics rippled and counter-ripples broke them.
Savior and Blackheart's fleets probed and parried; every exchange was a razor-balanced coin toss.
Even Eden's best commanders were pushed to the edge.
"Good thing I saved Abaddon. If Huron unified the Eye of Terror, the scale of damage would dwarf anything before."
Eden tasted the immensity of void war up close—and the Black-hearted King's slipperiness.
Especially after the pirate-king slipped heavy daemon engines past the perimeter and re-sealed the sector in hexlocks.
Blessed by the Dark Gods, Huron was maddeningly clever—
Not charging headlong like needle-skulled Abaddon of old.
A ping hit Eden's feed; he raised his head, a thin smile cutting his face.
"Fortunately, I planned for this.
Time to end it…"
(End of Chapter)[Get +20 Extra Chapters On — P@tr3on "Zaelum"][Every 500 Power Stones = 1 Bonus Chapter Drop][Thanks for Reading!]