This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 492 Abaddon's humiliating defeat has become the hottest topic in the warp.

"You pathetic and ignorant traitors, I, as a member of humanity, condemn your betrayal!"

"You hypocritical beast who serves the chaotic gods and brings boundless calamities to countless lives under a false banner, the wounds you have created will be forever remembered by us and nailed to the pillar of shame in history to be eternally spurned by all mankind."

Even the most barely legitimate demi-humans from 60 million years ago within the empire would involuntarily despise Abaddon's betrayal.

Di-

A sharp whistle rang out across the bridge, and steam billowed from the bridge's horn as it began to depressurize the equipment, which had long been overburdened by continuous warfare.

The sound seemed to be reflecting the feelings of everyone on the bridge.

Turn it off, you absolutely must turn it off.

We can't let these aliens talk any longer.

"Sir, we—"

One of the adjutants clearly understood the situation and, no longer concerned about the mutations in his body, hurriedly advised him to retreat quickly.

Phew!

Horus's Claw claimed the lieutenant's life in an instant.

The servants immediately dragged the new talent away. Abaddon's fierce gaze swept around, and everyone lowered their heads.

How could he not know the current situation?

The ground campaign was a complete disaster, the decapitation strikes were played like fools, and now Blackrock Fortress has been captured. The Black Legion's concept of an eternal war has been almost completely torn apart. What does it have left?
I know what you know, but your suggestion is good; please don't say it again next time.

At this moment, the dignity of the war commander must not be desecrated.

Veins bulged on his forehead, and Abaddon twitched slightly as if the Butcher's Nail had been activated. He raised his mutated hand and blankly tried to shut down the communication.

It can't be turned off.

In a sense, from the moment he chose to connect to the communication, he no longer had control over the conversation.

Just as he chose to accept the gods' 'investment'.

"grown ups!"

As Ramses' psionic phantom walked along the Black Stone Road, Uslan and the twelve prophets of the Order of the Nameless God knelt on one knee.

Their figures were staggered, forming a semi-circular corona ring in front of the vast control panel at the center of Blackrock Fortress, with fiery golden psionic energy spreading along the veins inscribed between the blackstone.

Outside Blackrock Fortress, billowing bright smoke, carrying the pungent stench of the warp, drifted from beyond the ravaged veil of the real universe at the edge of the warp rift. The rotating eight-pointed star within resembled a pair of chaotic eyes, surrounded by a radiant mist that obscured everything, gazing at the chaotic fleet that was gradually gathering and fleeing in the distance.

“The devotee is reborn from the twilight of the formless heaven, while the spirit of the enemy decays in fear and doubt.”

Ramses looked up.

With the Blackrock Fortress about to be launched, and it being the first time, he planned to add a sense of ceremony.

He knew very well that the struggle over Abaddon was a battle of egos between the two sides. The gods would trip each other up over their respective chosen ones, which directly led to Mortarion taking the blame for Nurgle. But the nature of Abaddon was clearly different.

But it doesn't matter.

Pressure doesn't stop you just because the other party backs down; the saying "don't pursue a cornered enemy" is reserved for those of equal standing.

Abaddon is clearly not included in this category.

Their goal has always been to weaken the minions of the gods to the greatest extent possible, especially the war potential of these Chaos traitors. If the four gods are determined to prove themselves, they will have to pay a higher price.

Ramses was never picky about food; the galactic races, especially humans, always had more treasures to offer, while Chaos in the real universe always seemed to have the same few trump cards.

Of course, it would be better to fill Abaddon into the Terra Palace as a foundation.

"Let us accomplish this great task, my fellow travelers. The Great Raider is accusing us, but we will not test his patience. He is eager to vent his anger, and so am I, in my own way."

"Let punishment descend upon this place."

Uslan stepped forward.

"The sun rises."

He said.

The others also rose, turning in unison to face the distant black legion fleet, their eyes gleaming with a light like the blazing sun.

At the key nodes of Blackrock Keep used to unblock the psychic energy channels, Eldar war shamans ascended the broken ridges on either side of them, their cloaks and robes fluttering in the howling wind.

A winding procession of one hundred, five hundred, and thirteen hundred people stretched out along the rugged silhouette of Blackrock Fortress, which resembled an asteroid. They bowed their heads and murmured the same soft prayer, a gift from another ancient race in ancient times.

tick~
Raindrops fall from the ceiling of Blackrock Fortress, a ceiling perfectly suited to form an ecosystem.

pat~
Ice crystals fell, and as the psionic energy spread, the raindrops turned into a biting sleet.

hum-

Through the gaps in the fortress, the churning subspace before them became a source of light, with countless particles of light leaping, splashing, and jumping within it.

The light itself began to stir, overlap and converge, as if it had come alive in an instant. Under the operation of the Blackrock Fortress, the power that the Aspect of Form had accumulated in the Warp was drawn out. This power was very different from what was displayed in the Warp. The only thing that remained unchanged was that no one could see what was happening inside.

clang!
"bring it on."

As the scepter fell, Ramses opened his arms.

Before the Blackrock Fortress, which was gradually obscured by light, becoming increasingly blurred like a pair of radiant eyes, the young power, guided by the ancient creation, completely engulfed it.

"Fall!"

Beep! ! !
A sharp whistling sound suddenly swept across the entire bridge.

It was so sharp and so loud that it shattered the steel walls, short-circuited the control panel, and broke the holographic projection panel into pieces, which were then pressed into a thin, dark glitter by the sudden pressure.

Some Black Legion warriors, whose bodies were almost fused with demons and who had become half-warp beings, or sorcerers skilled in witchcraft, were better off. Supernatural forces automatically intervened in their bodies, saving them from the worst possible outcome. But those who were not favored by the gods suffered a miserable fate.

Their bodies vanished from everyone else's sight on the spot, like NPCs suddenly deleted with a single click in a game.

Blood spurted from various organs of some people. They looked down at the location of those people with their severely mutated faces and were horrified to find that every inch of their bodies, along with their armor and weapons, had been compressed into thin sheets, just like the soulless steel around them.

It's as if they're being squeezed up and down by an invisible hydraulic press, with the flesh and steel squeezed out of the gaps in the armor turning into abstract paintings engraved on a black curtain.

The shriek lasted for thirteen seconds, until everything in the bridge exploded into a cloud of sparks and debris, which then lay flat on the bridge, which had been lowered by thirteen meters.

It's not just people.

And there are those warships.

The warships that were still covering the Black Legion's retreat collapsed one after another. The originally tight formation became full of holes in an instant. The warships with weaker machine spirits were directly crushed into iron discs by the light shining on them, and the fate of the crew members was self-evident.

As he looked at the Black Stone Fortress, which had traversed countless distances and appeared near the fleet from above and below, now transformed into pure gold, Abaddon felt a shiver run through his body.

He was not a new recruit; he had undergone far more training than any Astartes, and he was by no means a weak-willed person.

He couldn't understand why he had become so cowardly. He turned around and saw that the fleet outside the bridge had been completely routed in an instant, abandoning their comrades who needed cover and scrambling to escape to the rift behind.

The psionic communications revealed static from the warships, with continuous wails and screams.

"Stop them! Harken, stop them!"

He shouted.

Harken collapsed to the ground, blood slowly seeping from the gaps in his armor, unable to speak.

"Maintain discipline! Ensure the Vengeful Spirit's evacuation!"

Abaddon turned and shouted to Kayan.

Boom!

A powerful shockwave rushed towards us.

Several Aegis devices perched atop the Soul of Vengeance had malfunctioned and collapsed. The Void Shield was torn apart like thin silk, and in an instant, the power of the High Heavens emanating from Blackrock Fortress pierced through, the light that filled the entire field of vision chiseling through steel, and pulses that pulsated like life itself sweeping through the corridors, platforms, and walls.

The crowd and debris were blown into the air by the spray of flames, turning into paper the instant they lost the protection of the Soul of Vengeance. A plasma spear from another warship, flattened into a band of light, shot out and completely obliterated a turret.

"Maintain fleet operations, begin evacuation!"

Abaddon shouted, but no one could hear his commands.

The air whistled around them. Looking at Izara, Kayan's sister, who was almost fused with the entire Avengers, she clutched her head and began to wail. Blood gushed from her face, staining the entire incubation chamber crimson.

Abaddon was somewhat at a loss; he didn't know how to operate the console, which was now completely flat and empty.

The Blackrock Fortress, which was constantly approaching each other, encompassed an area far exceeding the diameter of a planet, and everything within it began to suffer massive destruction the moment it came into contact with the light.

Everything is being squeezed, then shattered, and then died.

But it doesn't matter anymore.

Storms, lightning, and fire spread once again from Abaddon.

The Nine-Headed Demon Lord revealed its enormous body within the ever-changing crystal. While cursing Tzeentch and Ramses for their despicable and shameless behavior, asking why their struggle had to bring disaster upon them, these great demons, they began their final struggle for survival.

The leader among them was a colossal demon lord, as large as a mountain, who was exceptionally conspicuous even in the vast universe.

Those who had even a slight understanding of demonic diagrams immediately recognized its identity.

Etaus Law Kerrius, the Soul Butcher, is the most insane shapeshifter under Tzeentch's command. Among his colleagues known for their magic and lies, he is known for his strength and rage. It's hard to say whether Tzeentch and the Blood God have mistakenly chosen the wrong demon.

This great demon was driven mad by the Lord of Changes, and its very existence symbolizes the most chaotic and insane part of the Lord of Changes.

Under the leadership of this behemoth, the Myriad Manifestations unleashed their magic. Countless azure flame arms, emerging from the warp, grasped the light and, carrying Tzeentch's own power, surged out wildly in an attempt to delay the merging of the two Blackrock fortresses.

Sparks fell, forming a flat spot of light before his eyes. Abaddon gripped his weapon tightly, forcing himself to stand up.

"Power has been restored!"

"Technical advisor Seraksia shouted."

This spider-like mechanical sage dragged its enormous body along the tracks to the perfectly flat control panel, where it inserted its fingers—used as a replacement for the adapter—directly into the ground.

"Get out!"

Abaddon shouted at her.

"Hmph, that's not enough."

Ramses pressed down with one hand. The ever-changing blue giant eye shattered in an instant, the thousands of hands that had been dragging and obstructing it were torn apart, and the nine-headed demon that had cast the spell vanished into nothingness in an instant amidst Keris's frantic roar.

He turned his palm over, and a handful of fragments appeared in his hand.

Clenching your fist tightly symbolizes the eternal annihilation of the last traces of the demons that Tzeentch has extended his influence on.

With no more obstacles in sight, Ramses looked toward the Soul of Vengeance.

He could sense that Blackrock Fortress, activated by the Eldar and centered around a lesser god, could unleash a terrifying power.

These ancient races wielded such immense power, but unfortunately, now alone, they could no longer use it.

Eldar, lesser gods, and a safe warp environment are all indispensable.

The light focused on the Soul of Vengeance, as if endless pressure had been concentrated on a single point. Amidst Izara's agonizing screams, the steel crumbled, and the materialized band of light forcibly tore the struggling behemoth into thirteen pieces.

Abaddon, who was still shouting, suddenly stopped as a series of explosions engulfed him.

An angry roar echoed once more from the warp. A terrifying chaotic storm kicked away Slaanesh, who was slowly searching for the Eldar souls. Then, taking advantage of the deaths of the nine Dark Lords, it penetrated into reality, its massive claws slamming into Blackrock Fortress, momentarily halting the movement of this superweapon.

"Warmaster!"

Kayan's belated shout echoed through the bridge of the Vengeance Soul.

The power of the Lord of Change surged within the Thousand Sons, protecting Abaddon, who was completely enveloped by the beam of light.

Boom! ! !

Another series of sonic booms swept across the bridge like thunder, and clusters of dark rifts exploded across the combat platform like open bags, with figures falling through the gaps accompanied by twisting and tearing noises.

Under the protection of the Chaos Gods, some of their treasures, which were extremely precious to them, disappeared through the warp rift. The rift behind them shrank and closed like the petals of a swirling black rose, and then vanished like smoke, leaving only the monotonous hymns echoing endlessly.
-
"Badab's humiliating defeat has become the most talked-about topic within the Warp Chaos Warband during this period."

"Many Chaos Warbands are discussing the performance of the Chaos Warmaster in this battle."

"The great Fogrem commented on this—"

"The Black Legion has been deceiving themselves with the banner of an eternal war, living a life that's neither human nor beast. Now that they've finally been exposed, they're even worse off than the Eldar aliens. They've lost all shame. But I sincerely hope Abaddon can become my courtier, because his very existence brings me endless pleasure. Hehe, Arthur, my Arthur."

cough~
In the emergency room of the Vengeance Soul, Abaddon coughed up a mouthful of blood.

He spat out blood and wiped his mouth.

"Commander, you're awake?"

Eliastel Felich, one of the Azercarers, comes from the Deathguard. During Abaddon's competition to become the Chaos Warmaster, he helped Abaddon kill his own lord, Dalavik, Abaddon's biggest rival for the title.

This original shareholder was positioned as an apothecary within the Legion, responsible for the Black Legion's expansion and medical operations. He also tended to avoid Black Crusade activities, which made him appear exceptionally mysterious in both Chaos and Imperial records.

However, for Felice, this was merely a survival tactic he had learned from the Black Legion over a long period of time.

Everyone knows that working with the Warmaster is an extremely dangerous job. Over the millennia, Azercarery has suffered many casualties, some dying and others retiring. Only Fakus Cabo and Kayan, these two supermen, have been able to withstand the pressure and maintain their position.

Oh, Kebo is already dead.

He looked at Abaddon, who had changed so much that he could almost be compared to Horus, the father of genetics, and smiled.

The vision of an eternal war has always been a deception of those confused veterans who rebelled and were eventually forced into chaos. These people often despise the empire but still cling to past honors, and in the face of the chaotic and cruel reality of survival, they need some spiritual comfort.

Abaddon's ideas provided them with a way out.

We are not traitors, the empire is the traitor.

We are not siding with Chaos, we are merely using Chaos.

Our mutations aren't mutations, they're the result of training!
Those who align themselves with Chaos are very susceptible to this, much like how people in the ancient Terran era who were obsessed with using drugs and fitness enjoyed being praised as purely natural.

However, this lie seems to be unable to continue now.

The power of the Chaos Gods, Abaddon's own mutation, the scenes of him being tossed around like a football, and a series of disastrous decisions were all laid bare in this battle.

Felice remained noncommittal about these matters; he was merely a pharmacist.

Looking at the current appearance of the Chaos Warmaster, he still maintained a respectful demeanor, simply looking forward to Abaddon's next performance.

“Felice”.

Abaddon's face twitched unnaturally, and his hand trembled as he raised it, his muscles contorting, as if something was wrestling with him for control.

Zhan Shuai recalled everything that had happened before, analyzed the current situation, and his broken head began to writhe as he thought.

"I--"

Then he noticed the Voice of the Warp being broadcast.

"How many times have we fought the Black Crusade? Twelve times. Was it even worth it? So many people died, but was it all worth it?"

"The Black Legion is quite something too. Back then, what led us? Horus, Peturabo."

"What is Abaddon? Why is he leading us?"

The sounds emanating from the demon host echoed through the medical bay.

Blood pressure rises.

"What's this!"

Abaddon suddenly asked loudly.

"What's this!"

He moved closer to Felice.

The pharmacist could see saliva dripping down his unclosed mouth, and Abaddon's nostrils opening and closing with his emotional fluctuations.

"That's none of my business."

Seeing Horus's Claw reaching towards his head, Felice quickly began to explain.

Ramses' investment in the propaganda war was no less than that in the frontal battle. Since Abaddon's defeat, the so-called voice of the warp has been spread everywhere with the indiscriminate bombing of the enemy. It's not just the reactions of the corrupted principalities, but also countless jokes fabricated against Abaddon. Especially in Nurgle Gardens, which was invaded by the Cursed Legion, even a maggot outside now knows Abaddon's true face.

It's not that it can't be stopped, as long as a demon host isn't used.

But—

Felice looked at Abaddon's current appearance.

Honestly, he couldn't have saved Abaddon without a demon host. After all, Astartes' bodies are complex enough, and after joining Chaos, they become even more bizarre. The things he learned during his time with the Legion were completely useless.

If they've all submitted to Chaos, how can they possibly escape Chaos?

And so these messages spread through the demon hosts who had been invaded by the God of No Form.

Currently, apart from those like Forgrim who have seen through everything and completely resigned themselves to their fate, and those like Angron who have gone completely mad, most of the rest have experienced some subtle fluctuations in their mentality.

"That's all I know."

After explaining the reasons as quickly as possible, Felix fell silent, awaiting the War Master's decision.

However, the demon host will not wait, nor will he choose to follow the war commander's lead.

Compared to the formless and shapeless Lord, the current War General has absolutely no deterrent power.

"What level is the Black Legion at now? They only have a few men left. Can Abaddon be a war commander?"

"Is he qualified?"

"I can't do it, I don't have the ability, you know that!"

Abaddon's face turned red, and he coughed up a mouthful of blood.

Click!

The steel gate slid open.

Having received Felix's message, Kayan and Harken hurriedly passed through the blood-soaked door and entered the room.

"Abaddon is awake?"

Kayan asked a question, but the Chaos Wizard still looked lost and dejected.

"He's awake."

Felice addressed the advisors.

Then he turned around and looked at Abaddon, who was lying motionless on the bed.

"Oh~"

With a regretful sigh, Felice said to Cayan.

"He collapsed again."

"Hey~"

Kayan sighed, glanced at Abaddon, whose body was swollen and almost took up the entire medical bed, with a complicated expression, and then left with Harken.

Only the seemingly endless sounds of the subspace continued to echo.

"If this continues, we'll lose to mortals!"

"The Primarchs used Astartes as a football, losing to mortals, and then to demi-humans."

"We can't afford to lose anymore!"

"You don't even have any shame!"
-
"Pfft, I'm so sorry, sir—"

On the surface of Badab, the guardian of the Great Vortex, the tyrant of Badab, Guilliman's greatest son, Commander Huron's report was halfway through when he finally couldn't help but stop, solemnly apologized, and ultimately chose to take a second to compose his expression.

It was clearly a very serious moment.

He would report on the tasks he had accomplished, pledge his loyalty to another father of genetics, and then continue along the great path they had laid out for him.

but--

Huron kept adjusting his expression, hoping to regain his best posture.

But why can't I hold it in?

(End of this chapter)