This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 486 The Four Gods, Dude, that's not right.

"You are the brothers of the Chaos Warlord," he said to his warriors on the eve of the attack.

Those warp powers, those powers fabricated as lies by the false emperor, will serve you as their masters once you achieve victory here.

However, your first priority is to survive.

The Chaos faction's offensive began to slow down.

It was obvious to everyone that the Chaos War General, after going into a frenzy, seemed to have come to terms with a certain reality.

'Abaddon is going to run.'

Seeing that he couldn't break through the encirclement formed by these cursed legions, Abaddon's intelligence once again prevailed.

"Black Legion, retreat!"

Far away on the Soul of Vengeance, Kayan glanced briefly at Abaddon's silhouette.

There were some strange signs. The outline of Abaddon's body seemed to be trembling, as if some being was constantly calibrating it, just beyond the outer edge of his true form. It was as if thousands of tiny wings were fluttering in the air, dragging him away from the influence of interfering factors such as the psionic energy of the think tank and attacks from warp spirits.

Only Abaddon.

From Kayan's perspective, those Black Legion warriors gathered together were more like a wall of flesh to prolong Abaddon's life in the strangulation.

He sighed again.

"Huron, draw the aggro."

Ramses glanced at the progress of the en route individual airborne strike.

"Abaddon, you disloyal and unjust scoundrel!"

Huron shouted, his voice momentarily drowning out the roar of the machine gun.

"Are you going to abandon honor and loyalty again and choose to run away once more?"

Fakus Kaber was unable to move as he was entangled by a group of chapter commanders and high-ranking units, and the sounds of weapons clashing and sharp blades piercing flesh could be heard all around.

Beside Huron, Ledodes kept moving, the highly respected Grand Marshal wielding his long-handled greatsword with a cold frequency, deflecting, slashing, parrying, and striking.

He was surrounded by the fierce and relentless advance of the 'Wolf Brothers'.

The black sword and the claws collided head-on, the claws snapping amidst the shrieking sparks.

The demon shrieked as it fled from the body, and the Son of Horus's body flattened out like a deflated balloon.

The fallen warriors of the Sons of Horus were nothing but shells; their strength and imposing physiques all came from the Warp Source. These wretches were not their original selves.

Over time, they ceased to be a person, nor an Astartes.

When the 'harmonious' symbiosis is torn apart by pressure to reveal the truth, these traitors are not even him, but it, now just a mindless mass of tendons and flesh, given life by a demon that is not yet accustomed to physical form.

It has become a pure, twisted spiritual aggregate, bound in a strange body, which has been completely shattered and mentally depleted with the departure of the demon.

Whatever consciousness remained within these warriors' bodies, it was gradually becoming too sluggish. Their bodies were so broken that they could no longer guide this power, their skills honed over the years were wasted, and their exhausted bodies, having lost their support, only knew how to throw one blow after another.

Abaddon ignored it.

The remaining Black Legion began to regroup.

"How can you be so sarcastic? Why would the Joker care about such harmless remarks?"

Ramses grumbled and complained, feeling that his previous presentation had been a waste of time.

"Attack power, sarcastic tone, focus on the key points, don't be burdened, okay? Are all my open-source dictionaries just for show?"

"If all else fails, learn from those priests in the Black Temple. They can make even the most serious words sound offensive."

These loyalists talk about glory all the time without any guidance. What harm is that? If they really cared about glory, would they rebel?
Huron was momentarily embarrassed.

He glanced at Ledodes, who had already cleared a large area around him and was beginning to break through the enemy lines, and adjusted his position to keep himself in a straight line with Ledodes and Abaddon.

"Why don't you come, sir?"

He said, sounding quite aggrieved.

Over the years, he's been thriving with his operations in the Great Vortex, and his businesses are booming. People from all walks of life, including the Astartes, the Astrail Forces, the Imperial Navy, and the Ronin Merchants, come to him for help. His Primarch is never stingy with material and spiritual rewards. He's been in such a good mood that he has no time to study this stuff.

"Tsk, let me do it."

Ramses felt that the modern Astartes had another problem: their verbal skills were a bit too high. Despite the fact that many of their cultures were incredibly abstract, such as the cannibalistic culture that existed before the Dawn Wings regulated them, not to mention others, they just couldn't let go of their airs.

Look at the three heroes of the Great Crusade. Not only are they skilled in hand-to-hand combat, but they are also incredibly good with words. Apart from Sigismund, every fight is filled with trash talk. Radoron, the Blood Angel, known for his nobility, even managed to get a bunch of rebels fired up.

Sigismund also inherited Dorne's foul mouth, except that he usually talks to his teammates, while Lann, who is famously low in emotional intelligence and comparable to Amit, is responsible for talking to him.

"It seems that not only is your fleet command inferior to mine, but your henchmen are also no match for my great brothers who guard me."

Ramses mocked Abaddon's defeat, and what made it most noticeable was his exaggeratedly loud voice.

"So you want to go back to your chaotic homeland and wriggle to Horus's grave to mourn? To mourn what you spent ten thousand years accomplishing that Horus achieved in a few decades?"

"How confident you are! What gives you the right to address a hero from the Great Expedition like that?"

Abaddon's veins bulged almost instantly.

His body was already hidden behind the 'Wolf Brothers'. The powerful physiques that the demons had bestowed upon these warriors made Abaddon appear somewhat small at this moment. Only his towering braids fluttered in the gale-force winds that arose as the various sealed chambers of the Star Ring fragments gradually shattered.

"And also, don't hide behind the descendants of Sigismund!"

Through the gaps in the guards' ranks, he glanced at Ledodes' familiar armor and the black sword whose blade was shimmering with golden energy like flowing gold dust.

In the past, Abaddon never hesitated to express his disdain for these 'chosen emperors'.

Because he personally killed the Chosen Emperor, he had witnessed firsthand the legends that his successors had never seen.

But the truth is that Sigismund died of old age. The battle that took place on the Eternal Expedition was never honorable in Abaddon's eyes. It was a desecration of an old man by a guy who was immortal by the power of the warp, and he didn't even manage to take the Eternal Expedition.

Age held back the Black Sword Champion, reducing him to the same level as those of his caliber.

Like Lardoron and Kouswayne, this legend, who surpasses any other Space Marine, could not escape the test of time.

Recalling the past, and avoiding the flames that erupted as the wreckage of the Cursed Legion fell, Abaddon glanced warily at Ledodes, who was gradually becoming like a god of war with each swing of his sword.

His instincts told him he couldn't let himself get carried away.

The empire is now incredibly sinister, and the Corpse King's minions are beginning to penetrate into reality. He is genuinely afraid that after he truly kills that Supreme Marshal, something else will emerge from that body.

Sigismund at his peak.

Abaddon quickly shook his head.

He was not afraid of challenges. His hands were stained with the blood of a Primarch, Horus, cloned by Fabius. But only after facing that swordsman did he realize that there was a gap between Astartes. He could not regain his confidence by simply killing a cloned Primarch.

Without the burden of physical limitations, the Sword Saint wouldn't hesitate to confront him like Clone Horus did.

What is the most important thing for a war commander?
endure.

"Hurron, step forward and face me like a true Astartes!"

Abaddon retracted Horus's claws, defiantly provoking him.

"You're overthinking it. I'm not like the Chaos War General, who does everything himself. Oh, it seems I am indeed slightly inferior to you. Perhaps it is precisely your proactive attitude that allows you to be so certain that every expedition you undertake will be a victory."

Ramses replied.

"How about you try to take down Badab first, so I can congratulate you in person?"

Chi!

Surrounded and attacked by the Cursed Legion and the chapter commanders, Falcus Caeber, the leader of the Despairbringers and the legendary son of Horus, had already died on the spot.

As the towering Tiberius dropped the head bearing countless contradictory expressions, the living and the dead standing together turned and rushed toward Abaddon.

Strangely, amidst the raging winds, the distance between them grew ever greater with each charge, with only their voices continuing to travel, as if an insurmountable chasm had separated them.

"what--"

Abaddon was furious again.

All that's needed is anger.

There are generally two ways in which the gods become corrupt.

One method involves subtly distorting your consciousness over a long period of time through suggestion, temptation, and cognitive modification, ultimately leading to your downfall.

One method involves forcibly initiating an initiation through weak connections such as intense emotional fluctuations or contact with subspace artifacts. This method relies on the chaotic power one possesses to forcibly control a certain unit or to achieve the desired result through that unit.

The former is economical, while the latter is cost-insensitive.

The latter method is usually only recorded during the Great Crusade, such as the tens of thousands of loyalists wiped out in one click during warp travel, Horus who was forcibly corrupted, the Custodians who were forcibly controlled on the Vengeful Spirit, and Dorne who was forcibly imprisoned in Khorne's Realm, etc.
Coincidentally, the Dawnwings have always been ruthless when it comes to spending. Between the tides of the warp, in a void undetectable to anyone.

A team composed of various races is whispering among themselves.

It is mainly composed of Eldar prophets and human psionicists, and there are also some alien races with unique psionic heritages, who may even have some connection with the ancient saints if we trace their history back to them.

Scholars, relying on their understanding of the subspace, continuously deconstruct and share their knowledge, exchanging ideas on various contingency plans and exploratory experiments in response to the current chaotic and disordered state of the subspace.

The documents were accurately sent to each department and its affiliated studios thanks to the diligent work of the operators. Some of the studios responsible for compiling large-scale spells had members who, with their professional and intensive training, relied on their expertise in the field of psychic energy to prepare solutions for the various ominous situations in the chaotic galaxy.

In this 'peaceful' place belonging to the soul, they wander among the diverse and distinctive buildings, whispering and conversing with each other, even more harmoniously than in most human settlements.

An unseen force penetrated deep within these employees without their awareness.

He slipped through the gate adorned with large banners, stole the staff meals from the employees' cafeteria, and extracted the documents he wanted from the files.

"Old Luo, step over here!"

Ramses immediately contacted Romulus, who had recently begun to refine his work on the Dawn Sector as his workload decreased.

A contingency plan was quickly presented to the ruler.

The busy ruler glanced at it, quickly went through it in his mind, and after confirming that it was correct, he raised his hand to issue a batch.

Since defeating Mortarion, the spiritual energy that Dawnwing had accumulated through various public events has once again decreased significantly.

Ramses' eyes hardened, and the spiritual power he had gathered outlined a spell, which was then unleashed at this moment, rushing towards Abaddon, who was protected by the gods, and at the same time began to cause the ripples in the Kia space to continue to extend.

He wanted to control Abaddon and pull him out of the gentle haven the gods had woven for him.

The rest was not his job.

"Hmph, you think you can threaten me just because you have four people in the warp? You stinking warp dweller now wants to come to the real universe to beg for food."

With a local specialty of some unknown race dangling from his mouth, Ramses sneered, secretly certain that he would have Lao Luo add it to his work lunch menu in the future.

"As if anyone can't call for backup."

"I will make you pay the price."

Abaddon cursed and took a step forward.

The Chaos Warmaster seemed unaware of his own actions, stepping out of the circle formed by the 'Wolf Brothers' amidst the gods' exasperation at yet another operation being forcefully blocked.

"I will turn that broken planet behind you into fragments—"

Before he could finish his harsh words without realizing it, the depressurized explosion swallowed up his remaining words.

Whether they were on the side of the Empire or the side of Chaos, they were instantly bathed in brilliant light.

The Lord of Knights materialized out of thin air and surrounded them. Right between the two killing squads, he tore open a passage through this region, which was heavily influenced by the warp and where even distances were beginning to blur, traversing the chasm created by the gods.

He anchored everything in that way, silent, resolute, and arrogant.

Nothing could shake his convictions; he was blind to everything else, seeing only himself, arrogant as a king who considered everything before him his own.

Lord of all knights, king of the ideal land, red dragon who destroyed the place blessed by the gods, lord of dark angels, one who locked the world, the most terrifying and fearsome being among the creations of chaos in the Wings of Dawn.

Arthur Pendragon.

He came with his sword drawn.

Boom!

With a roar from the Blood God's Demon Realm, the Holy Sword collided with a giant sword that suddenly appeared and burst into flames. The lava and sparks that erupted flew wildly as usual, igniting the war-ravaged atmosphere and whipping the Chaos War General to the ground like a swung crimson rein.

This caused Abaddon to stagger and gasp for breath.

He felt as if he were being ripped apart, the heat roaring in his chest, squeezing his heart.

The knight in black and red armor brought his gleaming sword almost to Abaddon's armor before it was blocked by a blade held aloft by a solid arm. The knight's golden hair flew behind his head, and his armor and sword swallowed the bloody light, reflecting a warm golden hue.

Faced with this scene, Abaddon instinctively expressed his heartfelt admiration.

The ferocity unleashed by the Blood God was like an endless volcano erupting continuously, seemingly about to tear the ground beneath their feet apart, but this power was firmly fixed under the feet of the Knight Lord.

Fierce rage no longer exists; only pure power remains in the struggle.

The two, one person and one sword, clashed amidst the fragments. The dissipating energy instantly dispelled the approaching demons and annihilated everything the sword's edge touched.

At close range, Abaddon could hear the Blood God's suppressed emotions during the battle, that feeling of having strength but nowhere to use it, while the Lord of Changes roared in his wounded ears.

Go! Hurry up, go! Go back!
Arthur looked up.

His turquoise eyes merely glanced casually at Abaddon's body.

The moment that inhuman pressure descended upon Abaddon, his mind went blank, and the guiding voice vanished instantly.

The moment Arthur took him into his senses, he became weak, his senses blurred, and his organs began to groan.

The Black Legion members around them were the same; the demons also began to loathe the bodies that reality had given them, and some Nurgle demons even turned into a pile of rotten flesh on the spot amidst wails.

Driven by instinct, Abaddon quickly broke free from the intense discomfort. He immediately turned around, letting the sword of Khorne block the advancing knight. Without the support of some kind of power, he even found that the Terminator armor on his body had become sluggish.

He swung his tattered cloak over his shoulders, but after running a few steps back, he froze again.

Behind him stood another wall that instilled an overwhelming sense of crisis. Under the control of the 'Wolf Brothers,' he saw only nothingness.

But he could sense a change. In the subspace, he twitched his nose, trying to ease the discomfort of the previous incident, and then he knew that something was there, buried deep in the miasma-filled forest, where he was about to enter and leave.

Damn it, where did this forest come from on a star ring?

Abaddon took another step, forced to ignore the battle behind him that kept him glued to his eyes, his sharp eyes fixed on the mist.

Immediately, the shadows shifted, and the gap between the two worlds began to tremble and slide back and forth, merging with another approaching shadow. A ray of light, seemingly produced by the Tyndall effect from piercing through the thick fog, began to pulsate, seeping out from the subspace like a materialized blade, piercing the membrane of the real universe.

Shadows and light danced around each other, then solidified, before flying up to a supporting pillar and merging into a giant, radiating a fierce golden light.

Abaddon did not see the lion appear for a moment.

One moment it was still hazy, the scene before me was just clouds and condensed water droplets on the broken structure of the star ring, the next moment the lion stood there, real and solid, standing on the pillar, the lion sword in his hand already drawn, the fluttering leaves appearing inside the cabin with his movements, and then gradually dissipating.

The moment Arthur held off Khorne, the lion pounced and attacked without mercy.

The voice guiding Abaddon in his mind returned, letting out a resentful shriek.

Then, magnificent feathers unfurled, and the ever-changing limbs and eyes intercepted the lion's attack route, entangled with it, and the dissipating energy kicked Abaddon away like a football.

He rolled awkwardly on the ground a few times, struggled to his feet, and scanned his surroundings.

Ahead lies Arthur, locked in a struggle with Khorne.

Behind them was a lion entangled with Tzeentch.

Between the two, amidst the pile of corpses where the escaping energy had completely pulverized the remaining 'Wolf Brothers', the great Chaos Warmaster, his eyes swirling, carefully supported himself on the floor, utterly bewildered, like a child who had wandered into an adult playground.

This is a higher level of confrontation.

Abaddon could do nothing; he was merely a prize to be fought over in this contest.

That's it.

The red dragon and the lion are aggressive.

Khorne and Trevor were not to be outdone.

Dude, is it really necessary to go to such lengths for humanity?

Faced with the Wings of Dawn's reckless investment, the gods were somewhat bewildered that the battle, which should have been scheduled to be held separately, was forced to begin.

They're really burning their souls like firewood.

You say you're willing to smash and rob mass-produced chess pieces at any cost, but the great game in the warp is indeed not as low-intensity as in reality, and everyone can afford to lose. So why is it so difficult for them to even leave a place for a clown on the chessboard?

It's definitely not right for you to spend everything on humans like this; it's too cruel.

Listen to me, your brother won't hurt you. Do this—

You move to the subspace, establish a stable little treasury, keep an eye on the location of the Chaos Octagon, cultivate a few loyal followers, prepare some contracts that will bring you the greatest benefit, devour all the resources, and make stingy efforts for a vague future. Then, from time to time, you come back to us to take out small loans and let us invest in you. We can all fleece the real universe together, wouldn't that make life better?
Not only did they oppose them, but now they're stirring up the market.

The gods were furious and unwillingly exerted their power.

The pure white soul was thus given to mortals—

Such a waste!

(End of this chapter)