This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 491 It only takes one bad day to destroy a War General

Badab is burning fiercely.

Most of the land was engulfed in flames, vegetation burned to ashes in the raging fire, and residual fuel was scattered across the land. Even natural gas rose from the cratered earth, turning into towering pillars of fire.

Abaddon stood on the deck of the Vengeance Soul, with Kayan standing to his left.

His remaining brothers commanded other units and fleets, contributing their abilities and experience to the Great Escape.

At the same time, the War Master also ordered them not to stray too far, lest they escape with the Black Legion's assets.

All these so-called subordinates were eager to probe the Warmaster's weakness, but Abaddon still emphasized the importance of authority to them. They could only survive in this universe by relying on the Warmaster's protection at all times, because the days when the Black Legion's expeditionary fleet roamed the galaxy with impunity were long gone.

The crimson glow of the burning planet resembled a torch, flickering and mocking its opponent, making one unconsciously bulge their veins.

They need to be more united, and they need a leader of sufficient stature to guide them so that they can maintain their military strength in the ever-changing galaxy, concentrate their efforts on developing modifications that can rival the original Astartes, and ensure that the Black Crusade can continue for a long time to come.

The presence of leaders is essential; they must bring about change.

Abaddon still believed he was the only one.

Now, Warmaster's entourage is reduced to a handful of members. The Despairbringer and the Wolf Brothers have been wiped out, the Black Legion has suffered heavy casualties, and the Titan Legion on the surface is almost wiped out as well. If it weren't for Harken's skillful organization of the evacuation, perhaps not even the seeds could have been left behind. There must be other talents within the legion, and those people should be absolutely under Warmaster's control, but that will take time.

Just like every expedition in the past, he needs time to make a comeback.

In any case, the rift in the galactic core has already been torn open, and the power of chaos has begun to further invade reality. In the future, the amount of chaotic power invading human territory will be no less than in the past.

only--

Abaddon gazed ahead.

He had previously wanted to replicate his tactics from the Battle of Horus Baikalmon and destroy the Blackrock Fortress, this super bomb.

The communications from Blackrock Fortress were now unfolding before him. These messages, filtered by the gods, had lost their original power. The Chaos Warmaster didn't know when the Empire had become so insidious. However, as the images appeared before everyone's eyes, everything before them still pierced his heart like a sharp knife.

Abaddon was momentarily unsure whether he should be angry about the fall of Blackrock Fortress or about the scene before him.

Within the image, Eldar and Ultramarines stand side by side. These warriors, clad in blue armor, are in perfect harmony with the much smaller Xenomorphs, a perfect blend of agility and muscularity, like complementary creatures.

Although he knew Horus had failed and often expressed his disdain for the father's actions, seeing what was happening before his eyes still moved him deeply.

Looking at the scene before him, coupled with the images in his mind of the Emperor's apparition and the Primarch being like a reincarnated god, Abaddon unexpectedly felt a pang of pain and an inexplicable, boundless resentment rose within him towards his comrades who had fallen during the Great Crusade.

Why was I the one who survived?
Why me out of all of us?
Why should I have to face all of this?
Why wasn't it me who died?!
"Our poor descendants have truly degenerated to an unimaginable degree."

Amidst a turmoil of emotions surging within him, Abaddon, who wanted to close his eyes in anguish, glared fiercely, feigning calmness.

"And also, Xenomorph, as someone who once stormed the Terra Palace and slaughtered the Royal Guard, what exactly made you abandon your arrogance and willingly grovel at the feet of humans?"

Reversing the natural order, Chaos one day began to satirize the depravity of the loyalists.

Ramses suddenly felt a bit of admiration for Abaddon, who was still able to react and take the initiative at this moment.

"you--"

"Serving humanity is our mission."

Stopping Titus, not wanting to listen to these tongue-tied loyalists from Astartes talking about glory and ideals, Hilandri spoke first.

Dealing with chaos requires a magical duel; if you fall into the opponent's rhythm, you've already lost, because the opponent is more shameless than you.

"The brain of the mutated Chaos traitor, soaked and pickled by the warp tides, probably cannot understand what this means."

The voice was very calm.

I am a legitimate human being, and the one I admire most is the Wings of Dawn.

"you--"

Abaddon's skull, which had been unable to fully heal due to the entanglement of the Four Gods' powers, throbbed again as his blood pressure rose.

damn it!
He was accused of being a traitor to humanity by that damned alien!
Inside the Soul of Vengeance, many people's faces visibly tense.

They weren't immune to being called traitors; when those Imperial citizens who persisted to the end were executed, the insults were far more scathing.

But for such words to come from the mouth of an alien...
"What do you mean, 'you'? What are you trying to refute? Respected War Commander—mutant, or chaotic, or a traitor?"

"Before you mock your loyal demi-human brethren as aliens, shouldn't you take a look in the mirror first?"

Hilandri was always accustomed to maintaining the politeness befitting an Eldar, speaking in a calm tone and with clear logic.

She stroked her fair skin and her face, which by human standards could be described as beautiful, then spread her fingers and stretched them out in front of Abaddon.

"Compared to the chaotic traitors whose traits are mutated, our genes are far more stable and reliable. How many of you can count on your fingers? Two eyes? Oh, my dear traitorous compatriots, perhaps you can't even find a decent pair of arms."

Indeed, it's a triple helix, with one more helix than humans. Its microstructure is composed of countless small triangles. It's safe to say that the triangle is indeed the most stable structure. It's hard to say whether the ancient sages considered this when they modified the Eldar.

While Ramses was frantically sending psionic lightning to Abaddon's Joker livestream in the warp and exchanging magical blows with Tzeentch, not missing any opportunity to take down the Chaos Warmaster, he couldn't help but smile when he heard Hilandri's words.

That's incredibly sharp.

It's important to understand that while the Black Legion is a Chaos faction, at least its core members follow Abaddon's ideology and are extremely opposed to mutation.

During the non-wartime period in the warp, the Black Legion's standard of living was relatively good, with slaves receiving a light breakfast every day.

Slaanesh members can choose to sprinkle two handfuls of ice jelly.

Khorne members would casually pull out the hearts of slaves to drizzle with a suitable sauce for their food.

Members of the Nurgle will receive a soup made from space rats, cockroaches, slugs, or other random creatures, along with the grime accumulated in the Chaos Ship's neglected and sparsely maintained kitchen, forming a biomass carpet.

Tzeentch members will randomly distribute the food of the Nurgle members to all of the above members, and it is also possible that other Tzeentch members will forcefully feed it to themselves.

Without distinction of chaos, one can randomly select any of the above benefits.

Because of the Tzeentch's improper cooking, slaves would be skinned and bled by the Khorne and then transported naked until they died from exhaustion or blood loss. Their bodies would then be sacrificed by the Nurgle or transformed into personal items for the Slaanesh.

Aside from daily sacrifices of mortals for gun practice, praying to the gods, complaining in the mess hall about how shameless the Emperor was, sharing Imperial jokes, and criticizing Abaddon's failures and incompetence in small groups, all while claiming to be learning from the Warmaster's advanced ideas, [the rest of the text is missing].
The most iconic feature of the Black Legion is their rest area, which consists of spiked beds that are almost perfectly shaped like the outline of their bodies.

This bed can monitor the mutation status of legion members at any time. Before each day's activities, legion members will undergo a mutation level check and then undergo surgical modification of the mutated areas.

Throughout this process, the Black Legion will arrogantly proclaim that even if they enter the Eye of Terror, they are still the purest warriors, upholding Horus's great ideals, fighting to prevent the Emperor from becoming a god and to liberate all mankind, and that the blessings of the gods are merely weapons for their use.

But people, the more they care about something, the more they lack it, right?

Just by looking at the faces of Abaddon's four advisors, you can get a general idea of ​​what the Black Legion looks like underneath their armor.

As Hilandri's understated sarcasm spread across the Soul of Vengeance, many members of the Black Legion exchanged bewildered glances. Harken silently donned his helmet, concealing his gaping maw filled with sharp teeth. The others sized each other up, silently hiding their limbs, which, with the increasing influence of the warp, had unknowingly become far removed from human form, behind their backs.

They cautiously peered at Abaddon with an unknown number of eyes.

Then, they were deeply shocked by Abaddon's appearance at that moment.

"enough!"

Abaddon roared!
“You’re getting impatient.” Hilandri looked at the other person with a smile.

"Pfft~"

Ramses laughed out loud.

It's those shameless old Eldar who make the show; the young Astartes are just too pretentious.

As an old woman who had lived for countless years, Hilandri knew very well that Abaddon's sarcasm towards her was nothing compared to the life and death of her race.

Previously, there was no choice at all. Slaanesh was excrement, Death was urination, and the Laughing God merely used Death as a strategic threat to threaten Slaanesh himself. The Jester, on the other hand, was caught in the middle, overcoming his racial instincts while desperately seeking a miracle.

Miracles are the wings of dawn.

Not long has passed since the Clown God and the Wings of Dawn officially connected.

This time span is short enough to be considered short in the short lifespan of humankind, just enough for a generation to grow from infancy to the age when they can take their first steps.

However, in this short period of time, the Dawnwing has already opened the park to the Jester and the Ark Eldar who are willing to submit to the management of the Dawnwing. They have even set standard KPIs based on the general social standards of the real universe, signed labor contracts, and quantified and rewarded all their efforts.

The former is a "turning back the clock of history," returning to the pantheon era, and even more so because of the pragmatic nature of the four leaders of the Wings of Dawn, the faith is more widespread than it was 10,000 years ago.

The latter is a situation that no one has ever dared to imagine since the existence of God.

Although some Eldar have poor talent and were born late, their psionic talents have deteriorated somewhat over the years. In terms of warfare, the Empire's power is overflowing, so these people are not very useful. However, there is still vocational training within the park, which provides enough time to popularize knowledge and assign them simple jobs such as switchboard operators.

Putting aside everything else, even things that would normally only serve as consumables for the gods can now earn rewards through labor and have a small home in the warp.

While it may not be as important as the gods' regard for humanity, one can still imagine the status that Ramses, who spearheaded and promoted this plan, holds in the hearts of many Eldar today.

The Jester's Troupe has been struggling in despair for ten thousand years. If Abaddon and his men can hold on until now, given the Dawnwing's tolerant attitude towards traitorous Space Marines, as long as they don't challenge the limits of humanity like the Midnight Lords, they might be able to return to the Empire like the Ash Claws.

Horus's slogan for starting the rebellion was to stop the emperor from becoming a god, to eliminate the tyranny of the empire, and to truly liberate all mankind. Abaddon also inherited this, and over a long period of time, he united the members of the Great Crusade, shouting slogans while carrying out brutal plunder and slaughter of mankind.

Now that everything you've claimed exists, why are you unhappy?

Oh, right, because God truly loves people, and is also eliminating imperial tyranny and liberating all of humanity.

Now someone's become the clown, but I won't say who.

"It is your self-degradation and arrogance that have caused all this. We had the opportunity to stand side by side, but you foolishly gave it up. Now the true gods stand behind us, while you can only beg those greedy slave owners and wield your butcher knives against your innocent compatriots."

Hilandri shouted, stalling for time.

"Traitor to humanity, I despise your betrayal."

bump!
bump!bump!
Abaddon slammed his fist on the table.

The mutated left hand gripped the alien artifacts, the "Hand of Darkness" and the "Eye of Night," which were once gifts from Chaos to manipulate Blackrock Fortress. However, they were unresponsive at this moment, just like the warp entity that resided inside Blackrock Fortress and called itself the "Daughter of Abaddon."

The entire Black Legion was furious; their faces were so red they could have been in charge of lighting the Empire's grandest art square.

To be insulted like that by an alien.

They've actually fallen so low as to be mocked by aliens!

If it were just being mocked by aliens, that would be one thing.

As those who have pledged allegiance to Chaos, they have long been mentally prepared. They do not care how other dull beings view them; they only know that they are already on the right path, and their lives may be without joy or sorrow.

But look at the scene on the other side of the communication line.

The attendees were dressed in armor, some light and some heavy, exuding the beauty of civilized industry.

The runes on your body are either beautiful or understated, and won't suddenly possess you and bite you, or replace your soul on the spot.

Every face was filled with high spirits. They may not understand the knowledge of the Chaos faction, and they may not be able to withstand the vicious verbal attacks, but they know that they are on the right path and are not alone, which fills them with confidence.

Clean, tidy, confident
If everyone is using the power of the subspace, why is it that the other side can have enough to eat, wear, and use, and maintain a decent life? Why is it that the other side doesn't need to be wary of those subspaces, or of teammates who are also becoming increasingly vicious due to the environment? Why is it that the other side can receive the selfless protection of the gods?

What about all the suffering they've endured over the years?
Are they considered to have large stomachs?
It's Alien—

Even aliens!
The group of Chaos traitors suddenly flew into a rage.

Ramses chuckled as he used the link, deciding to package these images together with the previous ones and broadcast them throughout Asia.

Within 13 hours of the war ending, he wanted all the maggots in Nurgle Garden to see these videos!
Titus murmured, watching the comical scene, wanting to say something but unable to utter a word.

Putting aside the emotional aspect of these aliens resurrecting Guilliman—an achievement that thrilled and moved countless people—the fact that the Internet was open to humanity was enough for the vast majority of the human elite to accept the existence of the Eldar.

Moreover, after being recruited, the Eldar will basically not appear within the Empire's territory. With ample supplies, they no longer engage in piracy or plunder, and the Wings of Dawn have secured their divine positions. They no longer engage in those mysterious prophecies and riddles, but instead devote themselves wholeheartedly to pleasing the Wings of Dawn. Apart from fighting, they are nowhere to be found within the Empire, so they are not a source of worry.

As for what’s next.

Titus flipped through the instruction manual that was already recorded in his mind, looking at the data around Hilandri that was constructed from obscure ancient Eldar runes.

The Astartes' brains are still functioning well, and due to the genetic seed, they have a deep connection with the warp. According to Lord Ramses, each one is a potential demon army. While they may not be perfectly suited to Eldar technology, they are the most suitable units that humans can select.

Eldar often enjoy teaching the Astartes and sharing their experiences with them, because in their eyes, educating other humans is a disaster.

You can't teach it, you simply can't teach it.

The stats of mortals are still too low compared to the Elven race. Without overcoming this, these Elven technologies will ultimately only be used by a small group of people.

It is said that Lord Arthur is pushing forward with this research, and the Dark Angels are able to ensure the safety of the research because of Lord Arthur's presence. No one knows how many of the fleets that have accompanied the Knight Lord on his voyages across the galaxy are involved in matters concerning the future of humanity, or whether there will be a place for Astartes within them.
It's spread out again.

These are not things a soldier like him needs to worry about.

Titus slowly shook his head, cursing the evil god a hundred and thirty times in his mind. He thought he should talk to his priest brothers more after the war, so he continued to pay attention to the operation of Blackrock Fortress.

Besides assisting warp entities in entering the real universe, one of Blackrock Fortress's major capabilities is something Abaddon has always done.

The subspace energy that replaced the 'sacrifice' was extracted directly and then used as a powerful weapon to be launched.

Once fully activated, Blackrock Fortress can break the barrier between the physical universe and the warp, creating a beam of pure warp energy that destroys everything in its path. This energy beam can connect with other Blackrock Fortresses to form an even more powerful beam.

It is known that during the 12th Black Crusade, Abaddon the Great Raider used two Black Rock Fortresses to destroy the planet Flaris 2, and used three Black Rock Fortresses in combination to turn the stars of the Taratis system into a supernova.

Now, the busy crew is trying to let the war commander's retreating fleet experience the power of this super weapon.

Abaddon, you pig!

In the warp, Carlos, who had been sent there by Jekyll and was exchanging psionic lightning with Ramses, cursed loudly.

If you can't win an argument, you resort to violence; if you can't win a fight, you retaliate with words; and if you can't win an argument, you just unleash your impotent rage.

You'd better run!

Does this idiot really think he's only alive because of his own efforts?

(End of this chapter)