Warhammer: Don't Call Me the God of All Machines

Chapter 858 The Emperor's Rebirth
More than a century after the end of the Horus Rebellion, Abaddon finally stood before the Golden Throne, venting his hatred and anger at the emperor who sat high on the throne.

Ever since Horus was defeated in his duel with the Emperor and all the rebels fled in panic to the Eye of Terror, Abaddon had been longing for this moment day and night.

It can be said that all his plans, all his killings, and all his sacrifices were paving the way for this moment.

He wanted to complete the work that Horus had not finished, he wanted to overthrow the Golden Throne, and he wanted the false emperor to bleed or even die!

He would pay any price for this, including his soul and his life.

"This is Draconion, the end of the Empire, your nemesis!"

"Back in the War of the Internet, you used the Imperial Guard, La Endymion, as a scapegoat, taking away the destruction of the Empire. But did you ever consider that it might return?"

Abaddon was laughing wildly, venting his pent-up frustrations and releasing the hatred that had long since begun to ferment and decay.

As he laughed, tears of blood even streamed down the eyes of the great raider.

Abaddon had never laughed so wildly since Horus was assassinated and sent to the Temple of Devon.

He carried too many heavy burdens on his shoulders, which gradually transformed the three heroes of the Great Expedition who only knew how to lead the charge into the treacherous, cunning, and scheming Chaos War General he is today.

If he had a choice, he would never want to become the Chaos Warmaster, the leader who commands these traitors.

He missed those days dearly—Horus led them on expeditions across the galaxy, Sejanus always devised the best plans, Eichmann and Torgadon were his most capable brothers, and all he had to do was recklessly fight.

Abaddon and Horus could fight on the Great Crusade for a lifetime; the father and son were so alike, both possessing an incredibly fervent passion for it.

The better the memories, the more Abaddon hated the present.

They shouldn't have acted this way; they shouldn't have been like rats in the sewers, plotting and scheming.

He blamed everything on the emperor.

"For Horus!"

"For my brothers!"

"To end humanity's endless, tragic fate!"

Abaddon mustered all his strength and charged toward the Golden Throne.

He knew that with his own strength alone, compared to the Lord of Humanity, he was like a firefly compared to the bright moon, utterly incomparable.

But now, he holds Draconian in his hands; this is his only chance.

The destructive power bestowed upon this demonic sword is a mixture of all of Abaddon's hatred and ambition.

The black demonic sword tore through the air, carrying an aura of annihilation, transforming into a destructive torrent that devoured light, piercing straight towards the slumbering, withered figure on the golden throne.

Between the emperor on the golden throne and Abaddon wielding the demonic sword, there were only the Imperial Guards holding the Spear of Dionysus, and Magnus, now a withered corpse.

Abaddon ignored the Imperial Guard and Magnus, even though he could have killed them with a flick of his finger.

He cast aside all distracting thoughts, his eyes fixed solely on the emperor.

Time seemed to freeze at this moment.

Behind Abaddon, Kayan watched the Warmaster who had reached the Emperor, and a strong sense of despair suddenly welled up in his heart.

He didn't know what the Empire was up to, but he was certain that, for whatever reason, Abaddon had absolutely no chance of getting to the Emperor's doorstep.

Those guards weren't useless. If they hadn't shown up by the time Abaddon reached the Golden Throne, there was only one explanation—

The Imperial Guards deliberately kept their presence hidden.

Abaddon, along with all the Black Legion, came here entirely because the Empire allowed them to do as they pleased.

Just, why?
Why did they abandon the protection of the Emperor? Didn't they know that Draconion could really cripple or kill the Emperor?

Kayan's heart suddenly trembled, and the clues in his mind connected, and he seemed to suddenly understand everything.

From the moment they learned of Draconion's message, and Ezekiel's inside maneuver to place them within the solar system, everything was part of the Empire's plan.

They are all pawns, even if they are enemies of the empire, they cannot escape their status as pawns.

But who exactly orchestrated this? Guilliman? Roche? Macardo? Or the Emperor himself?

Kayan desperately wanted to stop Abaddon from assassinating the Emperor, because what the enemy wanted you to do was definitely something that would benefit them.

The more your enemy wants you to do something, the less you should do it.

But now, no one can stop Abaddon, not even Kayan.

The warlord's most trusted Chaos Wizard opened his eyes wide and held his breath along with the warriors of the Black Legion around him.

Kayan just hoped that he was overthinking things and that everything was really going so smoothly.

Draconion's sword flashed with endless black light as it touched the Emperor's incomparably sacred body.

hum...

A deep, resonant hum, exceeding the limits of hearing and resounding directly at the soul level, like the first sigh at the dawn of the universe, spread gently yet irresistibly from the golden throne.

Without a deafening explosion or a clash of energies, Draconian's invincible evil power silently dissolved the static field that enveloped the Golden Throne.

The black lightning condensed on the sword grew increasingly violent, its wildly rotating eyes releasing the ecstatic joy of finally fulfilling its destiny, and then... it slowly closed, as if bearing indescribable terrifying pressure, the sword emitting a subtle, mournful tremor.

Draconion's birth was closely related to the Emperor.

It is the product of humanity's first murder. According to ancient legend, the emperor's uncle murdered the emperor's father, and Draconion was born from this. It is one of humanity's greatest malices.

Abaddon's determined strike pierced through the Emperor's slightly tattered golden armor; the wound left by Horus had not been fully repaired.

The demonic sword pierced through the armor and plunged into the emperor's chest. The serrated edge of Draconion's blade sliced ​​through the flesh and bones of the human lord, all so calmly and smoothly.

It's like a script that's already been written.

"I did it!"

Abaddon himself could hardly believe that he had actually accomplished the feat of assassinating the Emperor, a feat that even Horus had failed to achieve.

This means that he truly surpassed Horus and reached a new peak.

Draconion was like a dam that had been opened, continuously drawing away the life force that belonged to the Emperor.

The aura of the Lord of Humanity was rapidly weakening, like a corpse that was truly about to die completely.

Abaddon thrust the magic sword in his hand forward a few more times, and only after confirming that he could not push it any further did he step back a few steps and carefully examine the emperor in front of him.

At that moment, the figure who had been sitting like a statue, with its head bowed for a hundred years, raised its head very slightly... by an inch.

Beneath his dust-covered eyelids, two indescribable gazes, seemingly containing the birth and death of the universe, the beginning and end of time, pierced through the barriers of space and landed precisely and emotionlessly on Abaddon.

That gaze was neither angry nor hateful, but rather an absolute sense of presence that seemed to see through everything, control everything, and disregard everything.

Under His gaze, Abaddon felt as small as dust; his ambition, all his struggles, his pride in his power, and even Draconian in his hands seemed so ridiculous and insignificant.

It was as if his meticulously planned infiltration, his high-cost surprise attack, and the magic sword he regarded as the ultimate weapon were all merely pieces in His grand game that had been foreseen long ago.

A voice as calm as if expounding the truth of the universe resounded directly in the core of Abaddon's mind.

The voice was as clear as a whisper in your ear, yet it carried a weight heavy enough to crush your soul.
"Abaddon, you've finally arrived."

"I have been waiting for a long time."

The emperor's answer sent chills down the commander's spine. It wasn't the gaze of a dying man; it was more like... a hunter who had been waiting for a long time, satisfied to see his prey walk into the trap.

In fact, it wasn't just Kayan who felt something was wrong; even Abaddon, who had calmed down, felt that the situation was simply too outrageous.

The Imperial Guard, the Primarchs, the Astartes, even the Mechanicus's defensive forces, and the Sisters of Silent forces—none of them showed up.

If any of them appear, he will be unable to reach this place.

It was as if everyone already knew he was coming, so they made way for him and cleared the stage in advance, just so that he, the soloist, could perform the prelude.

"Impossible, this is impossible. No matter what your schemes are, I have already plunged Draconian into your chest. Even if you are immortal, you cannot escape death."

"Draconion is the end of the Empire, and you are its master. You must die! You will die! You must die!"

Abaddon began to roar impatiently, seemingly trying to convince himself of his inner fear.

The emperor did not answer his question; he closed his eyes, preparing to face death.

However, in the empty throne room, a series of rapid footsteps suddenly sounded. In just a moment, the hidden Imperial Guard, the Silent Sisters, and the Astartes of the Imperial Fist all emerged.

Their numbers were several times greater than the elite Black Legion led by Abaddon. If this was not enough to make Abaddon and the Black Legion despair, then Guilliman, Dorn, and Perturabo, who emerged from these reinforcements, completely nailed their last hope to the coffin.

"Break through! Break through immediately!"

Abaddon's roar exploded on the communications channel, suppressing the turmoil within him.

Although the War General himself didn't know where to run, their airships were able to land entirely because of the Empire's indulgence. But if they wanted to leave, they would have to ask the people present for permission.

Kayan's despairing premonition came true; it was a trap from beginning to end.

The Black Legion's warriors reacted swiftly; they were Abaddon's handpicked elites, and even in dire straits, they unleashed terrifying ferocity.

Centered around Abaddon and Kayan, they instantly contracted into a wedge formation, their power weapons humming and their blasters spewing deadly flames, attempting to tear a bloody path out of the palace.

However, the empire's sword had already been drawn.

"For the Emperor! Slay the traitors!"

The unified battle cry, like thunder, echoed in the empty throne room.

The Imperial Guards, clad in gleaming gold armor, could no longer contain themselves. They surged forth from all directions like a golden tide, completely surrounding the elite troops of the Black Legion.

Their steps were precise and deadly, their guard spears flashing with dazzling arcs of electricity, and their unstoppable disintegration field instantly pierced through the Chaos Terminator charging at the forefront, pinning it to the ground.

The silent nuns followed closely behind; their very presence was a powerful suppressor of warp energy.

The warp energy that could distort reality became stagnant and chaotic around them, and many Chaos Wizards felt a splitting headache and immediately lost control of their psionic powers.

The Imperial Fist's towering figure filled the gaps in the barrage of fire, unleashing a deluge of powerful bombs that precisely tore through the Black Legion's lines.

This deadly combination of attacks has left Abaddon and the Black Legion exhausted.

The Imperial Claws, composed of the Imperial Guard and the Silent Sisters, were too much for these Chaos Space Marines, who were more or less affected by the warp, to resist.

The Imperial Guard are perfect humans created by the Emperor. They have no connection to the Warp, but on a physical level, they can completely overwhelm the Astartes.

Their speed, strength, reaction speed, and endurance far surpass those of the Space Marines; only a few of the strongest Space Marines, such as company commanders, can match them.

But this is just the beginning.

Three figures, as imposing as mountains, completely blocked Abaddon's hopes of retreat.

Primarchs, and there are three of them! Even if Horus himself came to the Temple of Devon, he would be subdued on the spot.

Rogue Dorn, the Primarch of the Imperial Fist, had a face as cold as an Inuit frozen rock that had never melted.

His Storm Shield stood firmly in front of him, and the bombs struck it, leaving only negligible white marks.

He remained silent, but his eyes burned with a fury powerful enough to consume a traitor, and with each swing of his Stormfang chainsword, he tore a Chaos Space Marine to shreds.

Perturabo, the Lord of Steel, a former traitor, now assists in commanding the Imperial Fist Legion's firepower with chilling precision.

The combination of Iron Lord and Imperial Fist was an absurd setup that left the Black Legion feeling incredibly frustrated and tormented.

Steel or rock alone has its own weaknesses, but when steel is combined with rock to form reinforced concrete, it becomes the hardest and most impenetrable wall of sighs.

Peturabo has gradually gained the basic trust of the Primarchs.

He donned his power armor again, picked up his melee weapon, and contributed his own strength to the war to annihilate the Black Legion.

The Lord of Iron was burning with ambition; he desperately wanted to prove himself, especially now that the Emperor was right behind them.

The Primarch's heavy weapon emitted a low charging sound, and his cold gaze swept over those traitors who were once his offspring but now wore the black legion's armor, with an indescribable hint of mockery.

Those Space Marines who originally belonged to the Iron Warriors but now followed Abaddon were completely stunned when they saw Perturabo appear.

Perturabo showed no mercy, his deadly plasma beams killing off his familiar offspring one by one.

Facing Abaddon was Robert Guilliman.

The Crimson Sword in his hand burned with pure anti-psychic power, "negating" the warp forces within its range. Even Abaddon's armor, blessed by Vashtor, was constantly weakened and affected by Guilliman's anti-psychic power.

This unique ability makes Guilliman almost the most skilled Primarch in the Empire at dealing with warp enemies.

"Abaddon, today is your end." Guilliman's voice pierced through the clamor of the battlefield, booming in Abaddon's ears like thunder.

"You want to kill me? Then die with me!"

Abaddon roared, brandishing his last remaining claw of Horus—Draconion was still embedded in the Emperor's chest, and Abaddon had lost his most powerful weapon.

He unleashed the chaotic power within him, black energy swirling around his entire body, and lunged at Guilliman like a demon crawling out of hell.

The sword and claws clashed, unleashing a blinding light and a deafening roar.

Abaddon's power was violent and chaotic, filled with brute force born of hatred, and he attacked Guilliman almost with a suicidal intent.

Guilliman, on the other hand, was like a rock. His swordsmanship was expansive and powerful, yet he could not find any flaws. Every parry and counterattack with his Crimson Sword was carried with precise calculation and immense power.

He was defusing Abaddon's frenzied offensive, like a patient hunter exhausting the last strength of a trapped beast.

Guilliman looked at the Claw of Horus in Abaddon's hand and couldn't help but recall that man's invincible prowess on the battlefield.

The Claw of Horus is still the same Claw of Horus, but the wielder is no longer Horus...

The Primarch could kill Abaddon at any time. No matter how powerful he was, he was still an Astartes, and there was a world of difference between him and the Primarch.

But Guilliman remembered the advice of Roche and the others: Abaddon cannot die; he is Draconian's perfect jailer.

The fighting around them was nearing its end.

The golden figures of the Imperial Guards weaved through the Chaos Warriors, each swing of their spears taking away a twisted soul.

The Silent Sisters silently extinguished the psychic flames of witchcraft, silencing their screams before they could spread.

Imperial Fist's explosive bombs mercilessly reaped lives as these powerful Space Marines formed tight battle formations, tearing the Black Legion's Chaos Space Marines from their ranks and crushing them into dust.

One by one, the elite warriors of the Black Legion fell. Kayan was surrounded by several Silent Sisters and the Imperial Guard. His powerful psionic magic was suppressed to the point that he could hardly use it, and his body was already covered in wounds.

Desperate cries and the clanging of weapons filled the hall, but the scales of victory had irreversibly tipped in favor of the Empire.

Abaddon's offensive became increasingly frantic, but also increasingly ineffective.

His prized strength appeared clumsy and futile before Guilliman, and the Crimson Blade seized a tiny opening, piercing the joint gap of Abaddon's power armor like a viper.

"Ugh!" The excruciating pain caused Abaddon to pause in his movements. Guilliman spun around and delivered a heavy shoulder impact to Abaddon's chest.

"boom!"

Abaddon's massive body staggered backward, his breastplate dented, emitting a sickening metallic twisting sound.

He tried to steady himself, but Guilliman pursued closely, using his sword to precisely sever the transmission joint of Horus's Claw.

The power claw slumped heavily to the ground with a dull thud.

Abaddon lost his last weapon, and he knelt on one knee, relying on his tattered power armor to keep from collapsing completely.

Blood spilled from the corner of his mouth, staining his hideous mask red. He raised his head, his bloodshot eyes staring intently at Guilliman and the figure behind him who sat high on a throne with a demonic sword stuck in his chest.

He was indeed unable to escape, but he had already achieved his goal.

"Kill me!" Abaddon roared, his voice hoarse with a hint of relief. "You lackey of the false emperor, give me a quick death and end all of this!"

However, Guilliman merely watched him indifferently, the tip of his Crimson Dagger pointing towards the ground, without taking any further action.

The Imperial Guard and the Imperial Fist warriors also ceased their attack, silently surrounding the few remaining, wounded remnants of the Black Legion, including Kayan, who was struggling to his feet.

They appear to be controlling the number of Black Legion members, keeping it within a manageable range.

A figure slowly emerged from the Imperial camp, dressed in a light-colored robe, his demeanor incongruous with those around him.

Loshi stopped a few steps away from Abaddon, looking with amusement at the Great Raider who had lost the ability to resist.

"A satisfying end? Abaddon, you're too naive." Rosie's mockery pierced Abaddon's heart, amplifying his unease.

"I don't understand..." Zhan Shuai murmured.

“This is just the beginning, Abaddon. We have to thank you for your amazing performance,” Losi continued.

"You think your secret operation is rebellion? Revenge? No, you are just a pawn, a key pawn carefully placed to complete the final ritual."

Abaddon's pupils contracted sharply: "What...what are you saying?"

"We deliberately let Ezekiel discover the news about Draconian."

Rose's voice trailed off, revealing the cruel truth.

"Your movements within the Eye of Fear, your routes of infiltration into the solar system, even your 'loopholes' in breaching the palace's defenses... everything is within our calculations."

We need you, we need the Black Legion, we need the hatred in your heart and that demonic sword that embodies the oldest evil of mankind, we need you to... plunge it into the Emperor's chest.

"Why?!"

Abaddon couldn't understand it; it overturned everything he knew.

"You want to kill the Emperor?! You betrayed him?!" Kayan also showed an expression of extreme shock and confusion.

"Betrayal? No, we have never betrayed the Emperor, nor have we betrayed humanity."

Loxi shook his head slightly, estimated the time, and signaled to proceed to the next step of the plan.

"This is salvation, the only path for the survival of the human empire. The Emperor foresaw this day long ago."

"And we are just bringing this day to come."

Just then, Macado, who had been standing silently beside the throne, moved.

The Emperor's Shaper had a withered face but a resolute gaze. He took a deep breath, then stretched out his hands and gripped Draconian's twisted, malevolent hilt tightly.

Waldo, the long-lost commander of the Imperial Guard, now stood beside Macado like his most loyal guard.

He held the Spear of the Sun God in his hand, its tip emitting a faint light, seemingly sealing within some ancient and powerful mantra.

With all his might, Macado slowly pulled Draconian from the Emperor's chest.

The demonic sword was stained with blood as thick as liquid gold. Its wildly rotating eyes suddenly opened, emitting a silent shriek. The sword trembled violently, as if trying to break free.

It has completed its mission—it severely damaged the Emperor, and also the Black King, who is the two sides of the same coin as the Emperor.

The moment the demonic sword left his body, the withered figure on the golden throne seemed to lose its last bit of support and silently collapsed.

An indescribable sense of "presence" originating from the soul vanished instantly.

Everyone present, including the Primarch, felt a profound grief that emanated from their very soul.

The great ruler of mankind, the Emperor, has fallen into the abyss of death at this moment.

However, death is not the end, but the beginning of a storm.

"boom--!!!"

An unimaginable psionic storm erupted centered on the Golden Throne; it was not a physical explosion, but a wailing sound as the veil between the real universe and the warp was utterly torn apart.

The entire palace, the entire Terra, and even the entire solar system, all psionicists felt a profound tremor at the soul level.

Inside the throne room, dazzling light and absolute darkness intertwined and swirled wildly, and the walls twisted and cracked under an invisible force.

On the battlefield of the state religion not far from the palace, the mortal believers who were fighting and advancing instantly fainted, and only Astartes was able to barely hold on under this psionic storm.

The Emperor and the Black King became entangled with each other, and their power was weakened to its weakest state ever.

The Emperor's will coldly sneered as it stripped away the power of faith within its body, leaving the Black King helpless but to sever a portion of its authority.

These powers and authority penetrated into the depths of the warp.
That unimaginably vast collective of faith, formed by the desperate prayers, unwavering beliefs, and fervent devotion of countless humans within the human empire, began to naturally separate after losing its sole anchor in the real universe—the human emperor.

This vast and boundless power of faith, like a torrent of souls bursting its banks, surged wildly into the real universe, violently colliding and merging with the psionic storm erupting from the Golden Throne.

The divine power of the emperor, a portion of the authority of the Black King, and the boundless power of faith generated by human worship and offerings gradually merged into one.

The entire throne room was submerged in a sea of ​​pure holy light.

Abaddon, Cayan, Guilliman, Dorn, Peturabo, and all of humanity were stunned by this otherworldly sight and could not move.

Macado became the eye of the storm.

He held Draconion aloft, still struggling madly and trying to retaliate. The concept of "destruction" on the demonic sword yearned to destroy the newborn being known as the "God-Emperor".

The wielder's withered body erupted with incredible psychic energy, overwhelming Draconian.

Waldo raised the Spear of the Sun in his hand at the opportune moment, and then clearly recited one ancient name after another, each containing the essence of an emperor.

Those true names transformed into streams of pure light, not flowing into the storm, but instead rising against the current and shooting towards the storm's core—the emperor's body that had just lost its life.

A miracle happened.

The emperor's withered body did not perish under the storm and the erosion of faith; instead, infused with the light of the true name, it began to radiate a faint but distinct light.

That is the brilliance of humanity, the pure will, the essence of "human" rather than "god".

The storm did not subside; instead, it reached a new and strange equilibrium.

Draconion is indeed very powerful; it has a natural restraining effect on humans.

However, torn apart by the combined forces of the Emperor, the Black King, and the God Emperor, it still let out a mournful cry as it approached its limit.

Several crazed eyes on the demonic sword suddenly exploded, cracks appeared on the blade, and the pure destructive will let out a silent scream, which was temporarily suppressed and sealed.

Draconion was thrown into the air and landed back in Abaddon's hands.

Before Abaddon and all the survivors' astonished eyes, three magnificent pillars of light appeared in the Golden Throne area, intertwined and mutually restraining each other:
The golden pillar of light in the center, though faint, was exceptionally resilient, representing the humanity stripped from the emperor, stubbornly surviving in the storm.

The infinitely dazzling golden pillar of light above is vast and boundless, radiating an indescribable divinity.

It is composed of pure human faith power, blazing, radiant, and full of divinity, but at the same time it incorporates the divine power of the Emperor and part of the authority of the Black King. This is the newly born "God Emperor".

As for the dark and chaotic pillar of light at the bottom, it surged with an infinitely terrifying aura of final death; it was a projection of the "King of Darkness".

The three beams of light are not completely separate; they permeate, erode, and support each other, forming an extremely unstable yet temporarily balanced triangular structure on the golden throne.

Makado stood at the center of the triangle, his psionic energy like a thin yet resilient thread, struggling to maintain this fragile balance. His body trembled under the immense load, as if it might turn to dust at any moment.

Abaddon collapsed to the ground, gazing up at the sight that was beyond his comprehension.

He finally understood the full meaning of Losi's words.

The sword strike he unleashed was not the end; rather, it ushered in a new and even more unpredictable era.

He completed his mission, but utterly... lost everything.

He killed the Emperor, but personally facilitated the birth of a more powerful and complex warp deity, and severely damaged a Chaos God.

The Golden Throne is no longer an instrument of torture used by emperors to maintain their empires.

From this day forward, it will become a brand new, unknown, sublime altar that balances the "Emperor of Humanity," the "Emperor of Faith," and the "Black King of Chaos."

The newly born God-Emperor and the wounded Black King clashed, each drawing the other's full attention, which gave the Emperor a chance to escape.

The figure that had remained silent on the golden throne for a hundred years finally stood up slowly and walked step by step down from the throne.

Loshi glanced at the Emperor, then turned back to look at Abaddon.

"Perhaps your starting point was indeed to kill the Emperor and destroy the Empire, but unfortunately..."

"You have to admit that everything you've done, after being transformed, has become a roundabout way of showing loyalty to the Empire."

"In fact, most people have made far less contribution than you."

"The title 'Great Raider' may no longer suit you. How about 'Great Loyalist'?"

Hearing Rosie's words, whether mocking or genuinely praising, Abaddon could no longer hold on and collapsed helplessly onto the cold floor of the palace.

(End of this chapter)