I'm in Warhammer, please don't praise Doraemon

Chapter 553 I'm looking for my hammer!

The subspace, the deepest part of the Soul Forge,

Electricity, sparks, inspiration, kinetic energy, and thoughts danced within the silvery-gray mist, weaving a magnificent will.

That is the essence of Vashtor, the nature of the Creator.

His thoughts lurked in the deepest part of the soul's furnace, infusing a part of himself into the body forged in the steel furnace, and then casting it into different corners of reality.
He, in turn, uses these bodies to observe everything in the real world.
Human beings have limited perspectives and are constrained by time, but for Vashtor, everything in reality happens simultaneously.

Just moments before, Vashtor had signed a contract with Abaddon, exhausting him half to death.
The next moment, Vashtor had already signed a decades-long pact with Abaddon, salvaging numerous wrecked ships from the warp and transforming them into the Ominous Ark.

Over the decades, Abaddon also helped Vashtor collect a large number of "key" fragments, or rather, fragments of the ouroboros.
The Ouroboros is the last of the Three Ancient Artifacts, and is the former homeworld of the Dark Angels, Caliban itself. By collecting enough fragments of Caliban, the Ouroboros can be recreated and combined with the Tuchucha Engine and the Heart of Plague to form the true Ancient Artifact, the Discordant Engine. That is the key to Vashtor becoming a higher being.
But it's still too slow.
Vashtor observed the incredibly complex universe of reality, which was like a precise and intricate clock, constantly ticking and changing, becoming ever more complex.
Fortunately, Vashtor's field was adept at observation, analysis, and research, but he managed to glimpse a fragmented future amidst the ever-changing tides.

Coupled with his mastery of the realm of vicious arts, he vaguely sensed something: His rival was about to awaken.
Although the reason for that being's slumber is unknown, if it awakens and intends to vie for the position of Master of Vicious Arts, Vashtor is almost certain to lose.

Behind that figure are Slaanesh, Nurgle, and even the Dark Lord, as well as the three Primarchs: Guilliman, Sanguis, and Llane al-Jonson. If Slaanesh and Nurgle were to directly intervene, there would also be Mortalian and Forgrim, not to mention what else the Dark Lord might possess.
Vashtor had nothing behind him, only Abaddon in his hands, and perhaps Peturab, who was cooperating with him.
The thought filled Vashtor with a vague sense of fear.
He fought Slaanesh, Nurgle, the Dark Lord, Guilliman, Sanguis, Llane al-Johnson, and Mortarion. Really?

Either He gathers enough fragments of Caliban as soon as possible, or He must seek help from the other Chaos Gods.
Ultimately, in order to gather the fragments of Caliban as quickly as possible, Vashtor must rely on the Chaos Gods.
Vashtor's surging thoughts paused for a moment, as if he were speaking softly.
Only a simpleton like Abaddon would think he could remain independent in the face of the warp.

Although Vashtor maintained its independence as much as possible, it was also aware that its independence had been tacitly approved by certain beings from the very beginning.

The Creator slowly raised its head, gazing upon the boundless waves of warp above the Soul Forge.
Vashtor's strength comes from curiosity, a thirst for knowledge, an innovative spirit, and creations deprived of morality.
These areas overlap to some extent with the One Who Can Change, and through them, He can establish certain communication with the One Who Can Change.
A thousand thoughts intertwined in the blink of an eye; the will of the Lord of Change descended into the Soul Forge, directly connecting with Vashtor's will.
Vashtor sensed that the Lord of Changes had drawn a trajectory for him on the star map of reality, pointing towards Corinnar.

The moment he saw that star, all the information about that planet—the homeworld of the Crimson Angels—emerged within Vashtor's will.
In addition, fragmented words such as Holy Blood Angel, Saint Gilles, Red Angel, Blood Raven, and Fugen flashed through his mind, forming scattered images.
In an instant, Vashtor roughly understood what the Blood God and the Lord of Changes were planning to do.
At the same time, the Lord of All Changes also revealed his reward.
Many fragments of Caliban have sunk into the tides of the Crystal Labyrinth, and if Vashtor is willing to help, regardless of the final outcome, they will all belong to Vashtor.
Regardless of success or failure
This alerted Vashtor, who vaguely realized that the plan on the Crimson Angels' homeworld might just be part of Tzeentch and Khorne's scheme, and that Vashtor himself might be their true target.
But vaguely, Vashtor saw the figure of Doraemon on Corinnar.

This was clearly something Tzeentch deliberately presented to him.
Vashtor remained silent for a moment before finally agreeing to the series of agreements proposed by Tzeentch.

Tzeentch then let out a wicked laugh, as if celebrating that everything was going according to his plan.

"But before that"

Vashtor spoke slowly, raising his hand slightly, and countless agreements appeared from the void:
"Let's sign a contract first."

Looking at the contracts covering the entire mountainside, the cunning and treacherous laughter abruptly ceased.

On the Vengeance Soul, lying amidst a complex web of cables, Abaddon's complexion regained some color.
This is a creation of Vashtor, capable of extracting a portion of the chaotic fel energy from the wound on Abaddon's chest and infusing it into Abaddon's body, merging it with the Blessing within him. This not only temporarily restores Abaddon but also makes him even more powerful than before.

But this is only temporary. The wound has pierced through time and space and will never disappear. Vashtor's creations can only extract a few fragments. Once those extracted are exhausted, Abaddon will return to his previous severely injured state.

Feeling the power gradually returning within him, Abaddon couldn't help but sigh with admiration; Vashtor was truly different from other chaotic beings.

He is a good god! Not only did he give Abaddon this creation that could temporarily heal him, but he also replenished Abaddon's fleet with a large number of so-called Ominous Arks.
The Ominous Ark is actually a massive ship converted from a derelict space vessel. The polymer of these colossal abandoned ships drifts in the warp, constantly drawing fel energy from the High Heavens to coalesce into its form. It is filled with the fel power of the warp and is incredibly powerful.

Vashtor, leading Abaddon's wizards and dimensional blacksmiths, tamed these ships, transforming them into the powerful Ominous Ark using Vashtor's bizarre arts.

These arks allowed Abaddon's fleet to wreak havoc throughout the galaxy. While the power of Chaos generally receded in the face of Guilliman's Unyielding Expedition, it was at least not utterly powerless.

Vashtor did all this, demanding only that Abaddon and the Ominous Ark fleet salvage some so-called "key fragments" that looked no different from scrap. This greatly satisfied Abaddon; just as he had said, for those with true will, the warp is an infinite treasure trove from which anything can be taken.

Sizzle——————

Suddenly, the electricity within the Soul of Vengeance flickered a few times, and a spark streaked across the void, instantly coalescing into a form.

Vashtor appeared before Abaddon, staring at him with his fiery red eyes.
“I need you. Take your most elite troops, and we will head to Corinnar,” Vashtor said in an unquestionable tone.

What kind of place is Corinnar?

Abaddon's smile faltered for a moment, but he still managed to maintain a semblance of politeness as he replied, "I'm heading to the Vigilant Star, currently the most crucial location in the entire galaxy—"

"The Vigilant Star is not as crucial as you think. I am the god of invention and creation. At least for now. I can sense that a brand new invention is about to be born in the galaxy. After that invention is born, the Vigilant Star will be worthless."

Vashtor's voice, like a crackling electric current, rudely interrupted Abaddon:
“Corinnar is more important; it concerns the will of the gods, the allegiance of Saint Gilles, and whether I can ascend to godhood.”

"I! Want! To! Vigilant! Star!" Abaddon's patience had run out. He gritted his teeth and said each word with rage.

"According to Article 1365 of our contract: I have the right to demand that Abaddon the plunderer help me ascend to godhood at a critical moment, and Abaddon shall not refuse in any way."

"According to the commentary on Article 555: the critical moment refers to any situation that could cause me to fail in my ascension to godhood."

"Similarly, according to the commentary on Article 556 of this article: assistance means that Abaddon shall, within his own capabilities, provide assistance in any manner that Vashtor needs."

Vashtor calmly countered Abaddon's claim with the contract they had signed.

Abaddon's expression froze, for he truly sensed the binding force of the contract, and knew that if he continued to violate it, Vashtor would take his soul.
Abaddon paused for a moment, then replied, "I'm offering you help within my own capabilities."

According to the 72nd commentary on Articles 1365 and 556: Abaddon's scope of capability refers to situations that do not endanger Abaddon's life.

"What planet did you mention again, Coco? Anyway, that planet is related to Sanguis, and I could very well die if I faced the Primarch," Abaddon retorted with a ferocious expression.

“That’s true, but it would be a different story if another Primarch were to help,” Vashtor said calmly.

At the same time, sparks flew around him as a massive, wall-like figure emerged from the bridge of the Vengeance Soul, staring at Abaddon with its icy gaze.

Abaddon was speechless for a moment; he hadn't expected that Vashtor would actually cooperate with this person.
"Aren't you looking for your hammer?" Abaddon growled.

Several veins bulged on Peturabo's face.

“I’m looking for my hammer!!!” he growled with a fury that Abaddon could hardly comprehend.

(End of this chapter)