Chapter 298 – Be’lakor: Some Real Strength. The Dark Lord Is Getting Serious!

Eden's psychic energy clashed with the encroaching warp power, then dissipated under the impact.

As both forces faded, the Savior and the Dark Lord saw each other clearly.

The moment Eden saw Be'lakor, he felt a heavy sense of oppression—the guy's presence was even stronger than Vashtorr's.

Truly worthy of being an ancient Chaos powerhouse!

Luckily, since the Dark Lord had come into realspace, he was suffering from some fundamental restrictions, and his strength was significantly weakened.

Otherwise, he would have been even more terrifying.

That's one of the reasons why the Four Chaos Gods rarely enter realspace.

Perhaps they possess world-shattering power in the Warp.

But once they come to realspace, they must pay a heavy price to tear open the veil—and even then, their true bodies would be greatly weakened.

It's like revealing their health bar.

And once a health bar is visible, that means they can be killed.

In this state, they wouldn't be immune to being swarmed by humanity's numbers or overwhelmed with powerful weapons.

If not for these limitations, perhaps humanity would've been wiped out long ago.

"Huh…"

Eden narrowed his eyes at the Dark Lord, puzzled.

"Wasn't the intel saying this guy's black? Why does he look kind of reddish?"

...

On his throne—

Be'lakor had already restored the majesty befitting a Daemon Prince, his presence truly terrifying.

But inside, he was panicking a little.

After all, he had just lost control and lashed out in a fury, and his enemy had seen the whole thing.

"Damn it… Damn it all!"

The Dark Lord clenched the armrests of his throne, his hooves nearly stomping into the ground. He forced himself to keep calm.

He hadn't expected the Devourer to be so devious.

Not only had he silently wiped out the main fleet he had sent, but he had also shown up right after, catching him in his outburst.

Was this just to mock him in person?!

At this moment, Be'lakor felt a deep and indescribable humiliation.

And a bit of anxiety.

What if the Devourer started taunting him next?

He didn't even have any good comebacks!

Was he just going to stand there and take it?

For most warriors, honor and pride are incredibly important.

Whether it's the Imperium or Chaos, these warriors showcase their glory and dignity in many ways—imposing titles, relics, badges, sacred inscriptions, enemy blood and heads, kill counts, or powerful foes they've slain.

They not only talk tough, but also trash-talk before battle, trying to undermine their opponent's morale.

They'll even fight to the death for the sake of honor and pride.

Lose once, and they'll remember it for thousands—tens of thousands—of years, chasing revenge just to restore their pride.

Like the infamous feud between Khornate Daemon Kar'Bandha and the Blood Angels.

In short, under the influence of the Warp's negative energy—

Those who've lingered in the Warp long enough tend to have traits like arrogance, pettiness, bloodlust, deceit, cold-heartedness, madness, chaos, obsession, split personalities, master manipulators, and more.

Every last one of them is unhinged.

Some are so prideful that after suffering a massive humiliation, they never recover.

Like the one who got his ass kicked by his dad, died of shame, and has been hiding ever since—Little Pony.

"Dark Lord…"

The Devourer's hoarse and eerie voice rang out.

Be'lakor's breathing immediately grew heavier, his daemonic eyes glaring as he braced himself for what was to come.

He was ready to be further humiliated, but this wasn't over. One day, he'd repay it all a thousand times over.

Until death.

"I admit, you're a formidable opponent…"

Eden looked at Be'lakor with wary eyes. "With just a single trick, you managed to expose the true strength of my fleet!"

From his perspective—

This Dark Lord was cunning, a master of deception and feints.

He had used a smokescreen attack to bait out Eden's real strength.

Most Chaos Daemons he'd met before were just mad brutes who only knew how to charge and slash without thinking.

So running into one with actual tactics was… disconcerting.

He realized now that this world wasn't just full of madmen—there were also terrifying strategists.

He'd have to be more cautious going forward—

So he wouldn't get played.

Little did Eden know, Be'lakor had sent his main fleet to attack, only for it to get wiped out by Volradi's forces along the way—just casually mopped up like roaming mobs.

"But the true war is just beginning…"

Energy surged around Eden, his presence overwhelming. "Dark Lord, you cannot escape your fate of defeat!"

Of course, what he was saying was just the usual pre-battle trash talk and a little misinformation.

Anything to throw the enemy off.

Thankfully, he had been careful enough to hide parts of his fleet, only revealing a portion of their power.

Currently, the Charalton sector was still plagued by residual warp storms, many regions shrouded in fog-of-war, like patches of swirling confusion.

In these conditions, hiding one's strength and striking at the right moment was the best approach.

Better than being exposed and countered.

War often plays out this way—

Especially under conditions of interference.

Both sides are blind, unsure where the other's main force is, constantly probing each other—

And wary of sudden ambushes.

All of which shows how important intelligence is.

But gathering intel in the Warp is extraordinarily difficult. Standard probes and recon units are almost useless.

Eden had already decided—once this was over, he'd build a more advanced recon force.

Preferably full of traitorous daemon spies and schemers, embedded deep inside every major Chaos faction.

That way, future battles could be fought with perfect vision!

???

Be'lakor, hearing the Devourer's praise and threats, sighed in relief—and then fell into deeper confusion.

It seemed the enemy didn't know his fleet had been destroyed.

Could it be that the Devourer wasn't the one who wiped out his fleet?

Was there another force lurking in the shadows, attacking him?

He had made quite a few enemies…

So maybe—

The loss of his fleet wasn't a tactical blunder.

Just an accident caused by external forces.

Not a failure of his own!

That thought eased his mind slightly.

Though the idea of a hidden threat did leave him on edge—

At least the Devourer wasn't as terrifying as he'd feared. That was a relief.

With that realization—

Be'lakor straightened his back.

The Dark Lord once again stood tall before the Devourer, his confidence restored. A cold, arrogant smile curled at his lips.

After a moment of silence—

His blue daemonic eyes gleamed faintly like bottomless pits.

The entire space was filled with warp energy, an aura of suffocating pressure surrounding them.

The Dark Lord's voice echoed:

"Little one, you are but a fleeting challenger in my long, eternal life…"

And with that—

The vast and terrible daemon form upon the throne slowly faded away.

Eden stared at the vanishing figure in a daze, then drew in a sharp breath.

"Hiss~ Damn, he's really good at putting on airs…"

The great Savior still had much to learn.

—

Deep within Charalton.

Corevax.

Upon the throne, the Dark Lord's expression was grim—his earlier ease gone.

According to scans—

The Devourer's fleet was massive.

Just the large warships alone numbered in the hundreds, not to mention all the attached battlegroups.

That kind of scale was nearly equivalent to the Chaos joint fleets he had assembled.

It was clear now: this Devourer was no pushover.

A worthy opponent.

"How interesting…"

Be'lakor sneered coldly.

With such an adversary, he had no choice but to take things seriously.

Even if the Devourer had a massive fleet—

Possibly exceeding even some Imperial core region battle fleets—

He suspected that wasn't the enemy's full strength.

Be'lakor never fought battles unprepared. Perhaps he had underestimated his foe before—

But not anymore.

He would now go all out.

After all, he specialized in ambushes and overwhelming force!

He sat still, thinking through the situation carefully, preparing for the worst.

If he were bold—

He'd guess the Devourer had hidden at least half of his strength.

It might seem absurd—

But not impossible.

Only by expecting the worst, the most unlikely outcomes, could he eliminate surprises and secure victory.

He would set a grand trap—

A glorious massacre.

One that would bury the Devourer and his entire fleet.

After all, Be'lakor was chosen by all four gods, once one of Tzeentch's Champions.

Web-weaving and trap-laying were his forte.

"Perhaps I must give more to achieve victory…"

Be'lakor sighed deeply.

This would be his first grand battle in the galaxy after years of silence.

Failure was not an option.

He had made up his mind: he would seek reinforcements from many Chaos factions to annihilate the Devourer.

There would be no shortage of Chaos entities eager to see the Devourer die.

Warp mist gathered.

A towering figure in brutal, twisted armor emerged, scarlet eyes radiating intense pressure—

The Warlord of Chaos, the Great Despoiler—Abaddon.

In terms of power—

Abaddon, ruler of the Eye of Terror, far surpassed Be'lakor.

"What is it, Be'lakor?"

Abaddon's voice was cold and distant.

It was clear he held little fondness for his former ally and fellow Champion.

Be'lakor was too arrogant to be controlled.

Not to mention, Abaddon's forces had only recently been defeated by the Regent's First Fleet—

And Be'lakor had seized the region right after.

Clearly disrespecting him.

Be'lakor looked at Abaddon.

"There's news you may find interesting… about the Devourer."

"Speak."

Abaddon was intrigued. He, too, had searched for the Devourer—but the target had slipped away.

Be'lakor's tone brimmed with confidence:

"The Devourer has stepped into a trap I wove myself. He is like a butterfly caught in silk—about to face annihilation.

But that alone is not enough.

I require absolute control—no chance for escape.

Your forces, your Chaos legions, are the crucial piece of my plan. Together, we can bury him in despair— And leave no doubt of our victory."

Abaddon studied Be'lakor.

He was surprised that the proud Daemon Prince would come to ask for aid.

Clearly, this Devourer was tough to handle.

But Abaddon knew Be'lakor. He'd never make this request unless he was sure he could win.

That made him consider.

He still held a grudge over their defeat in Charalton.

If killing the rising star of the Imperium—this so-called Devourer—could balance the scales…

Well.

Abaddon had considered going after the Devourer himself when he heard the news—

But he was too tied up with campaigns in Vigilus.

His massive army not only had to guard the Eye of Terror, but also fight off Imperial and xenos forces in Vigilus.

That place was like a cake in the void—

Too many races circling it in chaos.

Orks, Necrons, Dark Eldar, Genestealers…

Even those foolish T'au.

Too much war for him to focus elsewhere.

Eventually—

Abaddon agreed to dispatch an elite fleet to support Be'lakor in Charalton.

The price?

In exchange, Be'lakor would hand over some of the Blackstone tech he'd stolen after Vashtorr's death.

As the orders were given, a Chaos elite fleet peeled away from Vigilus and made for Charalton.

Abaddon watched them go—

He wasn't worried about the outcome.

That fleet might struggle against the Regent's indomitable fleet—

But against normal Imperial forces?

More than enough.

A short, simple war.

He expected the fleet to return soon.

The elite Chaos fleet, almost a hundred large warships strong, was eager for blood.

They were tired of fighting the tough "metal shells" of the xenos—those bizarre technologies were too painful to deal with.

Imperials were easier prey.

They looked forward to this slaughter.

—

Upon his throne—

Be'lakor was satisfied with Abaddon's promise.

Now, the number of large ships he commanded reached two hundred—

Double what the Devourer had revealed.

Even assuming the worst—

He wouldn't be at a disadvantage.

But that still wasn't enough.

He needed absolute superiority.

So Be'lakor reached out to more Chaos factions—

Recruiting warbands, pirates, traitors from across the sector.

He swept up nearly every Chaos pirate plaguing Charalton and nearby systems.

He was confident he could rally even more support to overwhelm the enemy.

The galaxy had no shortage of traitors—

And none would want to miss a chance to strike a blow against the Imperium.

Especially since…

His grand plan… was only just beginning.

—

Tskamelo.

After some rest, Eden—under the young queen's reluctant gaze—

Returned to space.

The Freeblade Knights of the Raven family followed.

They wished to fight alongside the Savior's army, purging the heretics from Charalton.

Onboard the Dreamweaver, Eden stood on the bridge, gazing at the densely packed starships.

That strange fleet of the Dark Lord hadn't been found—

But it no longer mattered.

The Savior's true forces had finally arrived.

As the scout ships extended their search range, navy commanders had mapped the surrounding area and divided the battlezones accordingly.

Starting today, the Savior's fleets would officially begin operations across the Charalton sector!

Having met the Dark Lord in person, Eden's strategy had grown more conservative.

Only his exposed fleets would be deployed—the rest were ordered to stay hidden, ready to strike at any moment.

That meant only the vanguard fleet, the Third, and the Fourth Fleets—roughly a hundred warships—would begin the campaign to reclaim Charalton.

Luckily, that was already enough to sweep through the scanned zones.

These three Savior fleets would start from Tskamelo, gradually reclaiming planets deeper and deeper into Charalton—

Until they found the Dark Lord's lair.

—

Six Months Later.

Planet Elrada. Sorlav Strait.

Boom—boom—boom—

The war thundered on.

A massive bridge lay in ruins across the shallow sea. A Chaos Titan, downed in retreat, burned in the surf.

Trapped and cornered, it had no escape.

On the shore—

Three Redeemer-class Titans fired another brutal barrage, reducing it to ashes before slowly turning away.

On the fortress front lines—

Several Freeblade Knights fought in unison, piloting agile Redeemer-pattern suits, swiftly destroying a Corvus Chaos Knight.

They were so dominant, their suits had barely taken a scratch.

Just a few scuffs.

Looking around, they saw no enemies left. Some comrades had already pushed several kilometers ahead, mopping up the last Chaos stragglers.

At this rate, the battle would be over before they caught up.

The Freeblade Knights exchanged glances—everything that had happened lately felt like a dream.

Imperial wars against Chaos—

Were never easy.

Always bitter, brutal, and full of loss.

When had war ever felt so… effortless?

They had never fought such a luxurious war.

Every time—

The Savior's forces would send in Titans first to scout and breach, followed by multiple Knight suits overwhelming the enemy.

Ammo and shells were used like water—wave after wave of saturation fire!

They barely let go of the trigger during battle.

And with so many allies and so few enemies—

Some Freeblades didn't even reach the front line before the battle ended.

As for logistics—

It was insane.

Before the barrels cooled—

Supply ships were already docked.

Half-spent ammo bays, instantly refilled.

At this moment, engineers were inspecting their suits, replenishing sacred machine oil—

Even spraying new paint over scratched areas.

They left behind energy drinks and compressed rations for a quick refresh.

The Freeblades looked at each other—

Eyes full of tears.

Too rich!

—

Dreamweaver.

Sanctum of the Savior.

Eden sat on a sofa, reviewing frontline reports.

In this time—

The Savior's fleets, Storm Group Titans and Knights, along with the Void Angels and War Angel chapters—

Had crushed dozens of worlds across Charalton.

An overwhelming victory.

But not without concern—they still hadn't encountered the Dark Lord's main force.

According to intel—

The enemy's forces were rapidly retreating, avoiding direct confrontation.

Which meant—

That guy was scheming something in the shadows.

It was worrying. Who knew what chaos plots were brewing?

They might even destroy the whole Charalton sector.

Suddenly, Eden received the latest intel.

After reading it, he inhaled deeply, filled with unease.

"Damn… spoke too soon."

(End of Chapter)

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