Chapter 388 – Abaddon: Woohoo! Naked Charge to the Opponent's Crystal!

Aboard the Dreamweaver, on the bridge—

Eden was reclining comfortably on the sofa in the makeshift office area, eyes gazing up at the vaulted ceiling. Through the transparent canopy above, the looming black omen that was the Eye of Terror floated ominously in the void.

Even with some distance, he could still feel the whispers of Chaos bleeding through the fabric of reality.

That place was both the galaxy and the Warp.

With the interwoven nature of both realms, time and the laws of physics within were no doubt even more distorted and chaotic.

"Lord Savior, the latest tactical map has just come through. The Lord Regent has also begun preliminary operations."

Tarko, Eden's chief adjutant, walked up respectfully to report.

The adjutant wore fully enclosed isolation armor, specially designed with inner coatings and compact blackstone devices to resist the corrosive influence of Chaos energies.

Still, such protection could only prevent total bodily and mental corruption.

The interference of Chaos lingered nonetheless.

Those without gene modification or extraordinary willpower still suffered to varying degrees from the Warp's torment.

But for this adjutant, it was no serious issue.

He had undergone a second blessing, and his physique and will far surpassed ordinary mortals.

Eden sat up slightly and asked, "How much longer must we wait here?"

Hum—

A star map of the Gloaming Region projected itself into mid-air, clearly marking the Eye of Terror, the Nachmund Gauntlet, two Webway paths, the Savior's fleet, and the Lord Regent's fleet.

Tarko pointed at the Nachmund Gauntlet sector, where the Lord Regent's fleet was marked prominently.

He explained:

"The Lord Regent's Indomitus Crusade First Fleet reached its target position half a month ago, currently stationed near the Knight World of Dallowar.

According to the plan, he will divide his forces to support the Second Fleet along various fronts, fortify the Nachmund corridor, and begin actively locating Abaddon…"

Eden continued to listen intently.

Amidst the vast emptiness of the void, locating Abaddon's fleet across numerous war fronts was no easy task.

But as long as key regions were monitored, the odds would greatly increase.

This was the most crucial phase.

If Abaddon could not be located, the next phase of the plan couldn't proceed. Without drawing out the Black Legion garrison from within the Eye of Terror, Eden would never dare to plunge inward.

Otherwise, he'd likely end up getting swarmed and beaten to a pulp.

Tarko carefully detailed the general engagement zones of the Gloaming Region, as well as the influence and forces surrounding the Eye of Terror.

"Lord Savior, our fleet is also near several xenos worlds, which have likewise been attacked by Chaos…"

He specifically highlighted two relatively powerful alien factions: "Both may be valuable allies... perhaps they can aid us."

Eden nodded with satisfaction. This adjutant had indeed inherited his strategic thinking.

He reviewed the data on these alien factions in detail.

Currently near the fleet were an Aeldari Craftworld and an Ork Empire. The most promising of potential allies was a Craftworld known as Ulthwé.

The Aeldari bore deep hatred for the Eye of Terror and the Chaos forces within.

In truth, the Eye of Terror was once the Aeldari's home, the heart of their ancient empire.

Their decadence gave birth to Slaanesh.

The eruption of this Chaos god had torn the galaxy asunder, destroyed their empire, and created the Eye of Terror itself.

In that apocalypse, the Aeldari fled, surviving aboard vast Craftworlds—colossal ships the size of continents—drifting endlessly through space.

Ulthwé was one of the strongest of these Craftworlds.

Unlike others who distanced themselves from their corrupted homeland, Ulthwé clung close, even drawing strength from the Eye of Terror.

They fought an eternal war with Chaos there.

Proximity to the Eye had forged many powerful psykers among them. They formed elite units called the Black Guardians, led by Warlocks and Farseers, who ceaselessly combated Chaos warbands across hundreds of sectors in the Obscurus Region.

Yet their own kind called them cursed.

Ulthwé did not falter. They saw themselves as the watchers of the Eye, awaiting the day they might reclaim their home.

Eden's goal in entering the Eye was clear: plunder.

While other races might not join, he was confident Ulthwé would never miss this opportunity to strike back.

As for the Ork Empire—much simpler.

He'd just tell them that there was a massive WAAAGH! waiting inside the Eye of Terror.

If both Ulthwé and the Orks joined, this would become a holy war of vengeance.

"Find a way to establish contact with these xenos factions as soon as possible. Try to secure alliances. Even if we can't, once the moment comes, feed them intel on how empty the Black Legion defenses are."

Eden gave his orders while pointing at the Ork Empire on the star map: "Leave those Ork lads to me."

He had brought a special 'junk-hunting' Ork Mekboy with him—Iron Pry, leading a supporting Ork fleet.

Eden believed Iron Pry could persuade the Ork Empire.

Or just fire a few salvos at them to get them riled up—should be enough to stir them toward the Eye.

Eden sincerely hoped these alliance attempts would succeed. At least these xenos were intelligent enough to be reasoned with.

Even Orks, once they formed proper empires, gained a surprising level of cunning—sometimes outsmarting humans.

If the alliance worked, this raid would scale up dramatically.

As the Devourer and Chaos Marauder, Eden would lead a mighty coalition into the Eye of Terror to loot, burn, and smash all in their path.

Abaddon claimed to be a Despoiler who constantly raided Imperial territories.

Well, the Savior would despoil right back.

Why should Chaos traitors be the only ones allowed to plunder the Imperium?

Currently, the Chaos coalition was deployed to the far side of the Gloaming Region. If the Black Legion garrison could be fully drawn away, the Eye of Terror would be left wide open.

They'd never expect Eden's fleet to use the Webway for such a rapid assault on the Eye's edge.

They'd have no time to respond.

The great Devourer, the Chaos Marauder, would charge down the route, pillaging and destroying everything in their wake.

He'd ignite an inferno of war inside the Eye itself.

Wreck the Chaos fleets, destroy their forges, vaults, and gene-seed banks.

And loot all the good stuff—especially the blackstone.

If the plan worked, Abaddon might just die of rage.

But the strategic landscape had changed.

Most of Abaddon's main forces were still locked around Vigilus, while the Regent's Indomitus First and Second Fleets were entrenched in the Gloaming Region.

Unless he broke Guilliman's defensive line, there'd be no way for him to strike back.

After giving his orders, Eden flopped back onto the sofa in a lazy sprawl.

He had done all he could.

Now, it was time to wait for news from the Lord Regent.

He sipped an icy cola and sighed, "Sigh… wonder how old Gil's doing right now…"

...

Nachmund Gauntlet – Dallowar System

Amid the stars, deep black scars twisted through the void like wounds.

They were Warp rifts, spawned from the Eye of Terror.

They had severed Dallowar's connection to the wider Imperium, leaving its noble Knight Houses isolated and on the brink of annihilation.

But now, hope had arrived.

A vast, unimaginable Imperial fleet descended, its lights illuminating the system like a sea of stars.

To the people of Dallowar, it was peace manifest.

Even more inspiring—a Primarch had come.

The Lord Regent himself, promising protection and salvation.

This world had become the staging ground for the Indomitus Crusade.

From here, Guilliman's orders would direct fleets and strike groups to every front across the Obscurus Region—

—until the evil designs of the Chaos legions were crushed beneath Imperial might.

…

Aboard the Macragge's Honour

Inside the Lord Regent's Sanctum

After receiving the Knight Houses of Dallowar in formal audience, Guilliman turned and made his way toward his private office.

Thanks to Eden's upgrades to administrative and communication systems, operations here were running seamlessly.

Now, a staff of dozens worked within the sanctum, managing every detail with precision.

The floral scent in the air brought a rare moment of tranquility to the Primarch.

It was his favorite fragrance.

The auxiliary teams had transformed the sanctum, raising the green coverage to 70%, reshaping the halls into a miniature garden. The redesign was elegant and convenient.

They claimed this was the minimum standard for a Primarch's living quarters.

Only in such surroundings could a Primarch operate at full mental and physical capacity.

Guilliman had initially resisted the idea—but he had to admit—

This environment truly did ease the mind and strengthen the spirit.

What mattered even more was the medical team.

With their help, and the injections of Panacea, the Savior's advanced all-purpose elixir, Guilliman was finally able to sleep soundly again.

This had dramatically alleviated his suffering.

They also provided numerous health supplements, physical therapy, and restorative treatments.

Now, the Lord Regent looked like a changed man.

The wrinkles on his determined face had nearly vanished, his dark circles were gone, and even his previously ashen, lifeless hair had returned to a golden luster.

It was as if he had regained his youth.

This was both a mental and physical rejuvenation.

Glancing over at the office section, Guilliman saw over thirty highly experienced administrative officials hard at work.

They were all using cogitator-mechanical devices—what were essentially smart machines, though the Savior's territories officially declared them to be machine spirit equipment, fully certified by the Cult Mechanicus and the Machine God.

No one could dispute it.

These officials received all incoming messages and administrative matters destined for the Lord Regent. Within their jurisdiction, they processed them into concise reports.

Any critical intelligence was immediately escalated to Chief Administrator Bayesa.

Unlike Eden, Guilliman personally reviewed each of the processed documents—carefully and thoroughly.

He still wasn't completely at ease with the admin team, fearing they might overlook something.

But in the past days, he'd found almost no errors.

In fact, on several points, they had handled matters more prudently than he himself might have.

Given how busy he was, it was impossible to catch everything.

"These are excellent people... I truly wish I had more officials like them."

As he looked over the staff, he offered a rare smile in response to their greetings.

He was gradually accepting these outstanding aides.

He had even assigned a personal guard detachment to protect them.

They were elite selections made by Eden himself—and their contribution had dramatically enhanced operational efficiency.

Losing even one of them would be a severe blow.

Seeing the door to his office, Guilliman quickened his pace.

He still had work to do.

Unlike before—when pain had made every duty a struggle—he was now actually growing fond of this office.

The optimized administrative and communication systems allowed his will to be executed quickly, with seamless feedback—like a hand moving its fingers.

Gone were the days of tasks being delayed, deferred, or ignored.

More importantly, with this new system in place, his workload had dropped by over 80%.

For a Primarch, that remaining 20% wasn't even a burden.

Just as he stepped into the office and before he could ask for updates—

Chief Administrator Bayesa began his report immediately:

"My lord, battle updates across all Obscurus Region fronts have been compiled and are ready for your review.

As of now, there's been no confirmed sighting of the Despoiler Abaddon's fleet.

However, analysis suggests he may be advancing along a Warp route and is likely to appear in one of these sectors..."

Guilliman looked at Bayesa with both appreciation and concern:

"You've worked 130 standard Terran hours without pause. Perhaps you should rest for a while."

He truly liked this aide. Bayesa almost always understood and executed his will perfectly.

He was managing affairs with great precision.

Guilliman couldn't help but worry about overworking him.

But Bayesa responded with measured precision:

"My lord, I've already scheduled rest intervals. No unforeseen issue will disrupt the chain of command. During my rest, the Deputy Administrator will attend to your needs."

That answer pleased the Regent even more.

Guilliman sat at his desk.

The requested intel was already projected across the data-screens, ready for review.

Beside it was a freshly prepared cup of hot coffee—clearly placed after he entered.

The team had thought of everything.

Soon, he began issuing orders.

Reviewing the star maps and reports, he deployed fleets and strike groups to specific fronts.

When he encountered anything unclear, he would call in a consultant or open a direct line for discussion.

He was growing increasingly accustomed to this digital command style.

Not far away, Aide Felix stood watching the Lord Regent and his new team with a hint of bitterness.

In the past, Felix had been the one personally managing all the messages and reports, always at the Regent's side.

But now his role had diminished—to that of bodyguard or military envoy for special orders.

His bond with the Lord Regent… was fading!

And with every new command issued—

The warships across the Dallowar system began splitting off into strike groups, vanishing into Warp corridors.

These sub-fleets would arrive at their targets as swiftly as possible and coordinate with the Second Fleet to strike the enemy hard.

The system's fleet presence was steadily decreasing.

Back in the office—

Guilliman furrowed his brow while reading a report on the Chaos Warmaster, Abaddon.

"If Abaddon still doesn't show up soon, Eden's raiding plan might have to be canceled..."

The Obscurus Region fronts were progressing.

He couldn't afford to delay for one operation, no matter how valuable—and hiding too many fleets would also hinder the war effort.

Unexpected consequences could follow.

"Where will that Chaos traitor show himself?"

Guilliman stared at the screen, deep in thought.

...

Warp Transit Corridor

A Chaos fleet surged through the shifting hell-lanes of the Immaterium.

Composed of a myriad of corrupted vessels, they reflected the nature of their master, Abaddon the Despoiler—a champion of all four Chaos Gods.

Their hulls bore the grotesque signatures of the Warp—mutated with claws, eyes, boils, and writhing tendrils.

They weren't ships—they were alive—howling abominations aching for destruction.

The fleet longed to tear through planetary defenses and devour billions of souls.

At the front loomed a monstrous vessel, towering several times larger than the others.

A massive doomsday cannon sat at its center—an apocalyptic main weapon.

This was the Planet Killer, one of Abaddon's flagships.

A dread vessel so terrifying that the Imperium had tried to dismiss it as hallucination—claimed by fear-maddened witnesses.

Its destructive capability could annihilate entire worlds.

Aboard the bridge—

Abaddon's colossal black-armored form stood tall. His crimson eyes glowed beneath his horned helm, and the air around him pulsed with palpable bloodlust.

He was nearing his target: Dallowar.

The Chaos Warmaster's guttural voice boomed:

"Begin charging the Doomsday Cannon. We strike immediately."

His timing was unnervingly precise.

Even as he spoke, the ship's ceiling pulsed with eerie light.

The flagship breached the Warp and exited into realspace—right at the edge of the Dallowar system.

Abaddon smirked coldly and raised the Talon of Horus.

The ancient weapon—once wielded by the traitor-Primarch Horus—reeked of corruption. The bloodied claws glinted with deadly menace.

Clenching the talon, Abaddon roared:

"All ships, open fire! Shatter everything in this cursed system!"

He would announce his arrival with the destruction of a vital Imperial star system.

But in the very next moment—

The fleet's augur arrays blared with urgent alarms.

On the radar, countless red signatures flickered—**dozens, hundreds—**encircling them.

These were Imperial warships.

The Chaos commanders were stunned.

They didn't even need to check the scanners.

Abaddon, struck with disbelief, looked up through the observation canopy—

—and beheld a glorious human flagship, ringed by fleets of Imperial vessels:

The Macragge's Honour.

(End of Chapter)

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