Chapter 395 – Abaddon: Damn It, the Savior Ambushed My Base!

As the Warp rift erupted, several strands of dark-purple energy chains shot out.

Those chains, seemingly alive, instantly coiled around Guilliman as he raised the Emperor's Sword. Ethereal tendrils extended into his armor, splintering and anchoring into the ground.

In the next instant, the chains tightened, nearly forcing him to one knee.

"Foul sorcery!"

Guilliman roared, utterly disgusted by the vile Warp sorceries.

But to everyone's shock, the bindings didn't even last half a second before he shattered them with sheer strength.

The next moment—

The Emperor's Sword slashed down even faster, severing Abaddon's head.

Thud—

The severed head hit the ground hard and rolled a few times.

Everyone on the battlefield was stunned. Even the Despoilers faltered slightly.

Did the Chaos Warmaster just die?!

Yet Guilliman didn't show a trace of triumph. Instead, his face darkened.

"You cannot kill me… false Emperor's son…"

Abaddon's severed head blinked, smirked in disdain, and rapidly twisted into a mass of pulsating rot-flesh.

Guilliman instantly leapt back to evade.

Boom!

The mass exploded. A plague cloud erupted, corroding a deep pit into the alloy floor and spraying fist-sized holes across the surrounding area.

The toxic miasma spread quickly, blanketing the battlefield.

Guilliman swept the Emperor's Sword, its flames purging the poisonous fog and restoring his sight.

He looked up toward the Warp rift.

From there, intense warp energies flared.

Then, floating out atop a golden disk was a Thousand Sons Sorcerer with violet skin, three arms, and clad in bronze-colored robes.

It was he who had just ensnared the Regent with sorcery and teleported the Chaos Warmaster away.

This sorcerer, named Zaraphiston, had plunged into the Eye of Terror under the guidance of Tzeentch. There, he was gifted with prophetic power and foresight.

Since then, he had sworn fealty to the Warmaster.

It was he who foresaw the Regent's resurrection and warned Abaddon, prompting the Chaos forces' assault on Macragge to stop it.

"Zaraphiston, you arrived just in time…"

Abaddon's charred form stepped out from a nearby ritual circle, standing beside the sorcerer. His wounds were rapidly regenerating.

His recovery was swift, his body mutating even further.

This time, he didn't resist the Chaos Gods' blessings but accepted more willingly—to counter the increasingly powerful Regent.

Visibly, his aura surged—becoming even more oppressive.

Zaraphiston waved his staff, activating more teleportation circles. Thousands of Chaos warriors burst out roaring, charging the Imperial lines.

Then he summoned three massive Lords of Change and more Tzeentchian daemons.

In an instant, the battlefield was engulfed by bombardments and multi-colored flames of Tzeentch's sorcery.

These formidable Chaos forces crashed against the Indomitus warriors' battle line.

"For Courage and Glory!"

The Primaris forces regrouped into a wedge formation, raising their banners and unleashing a hail of bolter fire—standing like unyielding stone against the onrushing tide of Chaos.

But the enemy was simply too numerous.

This surgical strike force, having boarded the enemy flagship for a decapitation mission, now struggled to hold against the endless Chaos reinforcements.

BOOM—

Abaddon struck hard, knocking Guilliman into a distant ruin.

He watched smugly as the Regent crashed into the rubble.

"False Emperor's spawn—my legions are here. What will you do now?"

Guilliman slowly pushed himself from the wreckage, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He looked at the faltering Imperial lines, a hint of despair in his eyes.

It was all too familiar.

Was he once again trapped in a hopeless situation, forced to fight to the death?

"…But that was the past."

The Regent's face steeled with resolve. He drove the Emperor's Sword into the ground, rising from his kneeling stance to face the Chaos Warmaster.

This time, he was not alone.

Reinforcements were arriving!

Whrummm~

In Abaddon's stunned gaze, glowing psychic energy shimmered across the Imperial lines—teleportation beacons activating.

"For the Golden Sun and the Savior!"

From the columns of light stepped crimson-clad Terminators and Centurion suits, unleashing storms of shrapnel at the Chaos invaders.

For now, the Chaos advance was halted.

These were the War Angels from the Savior's Third Fleet, joining the war as reinforcements under the Regent's banner.

Though only a few hundred strong, nearly all were equipped with Terminator armor, and there were nearly a hundred Centurions—devastatingly effective in this kind of boarding engagement.

Still, that wasn't enough to turn the tide.

But the War Angels had brought a far more dreadful sacred weapon—

"Set up the Big Light! Too many daemons!"

Company Captain Thirteen roared over vox as he used his Centurion's cannons to sweep aside hordes of daemons, urging his squads into motion.

Under his command, ten Astartes quickly dismantled their heavy gear and assembled a missile launcher platform.

They opened alloy crates, revealing small, gray-white, sanctified missiles—Holy Ash Missiles—and began loading them.

Hssssss—

The Lords of Change shrieked, spewing colorful flame to incinerate the battlefield—but then, they paused.

That accursed scent!

These three Greater Daemons of Tzeentch had taken part in the Charalton campaign against the Devourer and witnessed the terror of the Holy Ash Missiles.

They'd even watched, horrified, as the Devourer shoved one into a fellow Lord of Change's rear—burning him from the inside out in a hellish display of agony.

Those traumatic memories surged again.

The Lords of Change exchanged panicked glances, then turned and fled—without a word.

BOOM—

The Holy Ash Missiles exploded across the battlefield in dazzling golden light.

If the Emperor's Sword was a precision kill, these were massive area-of-effect devastation—pure terror to the daemonic.

Screams and howls echoed everywhere.

Daemons perished in waves of holy agony. Even Chaos Marines were affected.

The Lords of Change felt the searing heat behind them, their backs blistering—they fled even faster.

One of them even backhanded Zaraphiston out of the way when he tried to stop them.

They had only one thought left: Run!

They didn't dare gamble on whether the Imperium had deadlier cursed weapons, nor whether these mass-produced mini Ash Missiles could truly kill them.

The panic spread—more daemons began fleeing.

In their panic, they even smashed into the Chaos Marine lines, spreading further chaos.

Guilliman saw the weapons' effects and his eyes lit up.

He had never seen them in person—only heard rumors steeped in myth, with survivors swearing they had witnessed divine intervention from the Emperor himself.

Now, he understood.

These weapons were miracles in battle against Chaos.

"…I wonder how many of those Devou—I mean, Eden—has."

Guilliman recalled his brother once promised to supply a batch. Had he forgotten?

He'd definitely be asking for them later.

The Regent gripped the Emperor's Sword and led his guards in another charge toward Abaddon's position.

Meanwhile—

Abaddon watched the panicked daemons ruin his lines and exploded in rage.

"Cowards! You spineless worms!"

He had known the Tzeentchian daemons were unreliable, prone to betrayal, and devoid of any martial honor.

Even he knew these small weapons couldn't kill Greater Daemons.

But they still ran.

Though the Black Legion still held the upper hand, fighting further had no point.

His Omen-class Ark had already arrived with more warriors and ships.

He had a better way to destroy the Imperials.

"…Withdraw."

Abaddon met the Regent's gaze one last time and turned away, flanked by Despoilers, stepping into a sorcerous portal conjured by Zaraphiston.

As Chaos forces completed their retreat—

He would destroy this battleship, taking the Regent and his warriors with it.

Once the order was given, the Chaos warriors ceased their assault and began withdrawing through the portals, abandoning the super-sized battleship.

Guilliman was puzzled by Abaddon's sudden retreat—why give up the flagship?

Then Volradi's urgent warning came through.

The acting High Commander of the Unyielding Fleet demanded immediate evacuation.

He was right to worry—the Black Legion's hidden main fleet had arrived, faster than expected!

Guilliman turned sharply.

Through a massive breach in the ship's hull, he glimpsed the distant void—and the titanic silhouettes emerging from the stardust.

Monstrous warships, grotesque and far larger than even the Planet Killer.

Their size dwarfed even the Macragge's Honour.

And at the front of these monsters, light began to glow—

Their guns were charging.

"Full retreat! Immediately!"

Guilliman realized Abaddon's true plan—and instantly ordered the withdrawal.

The warriors began teleporting out.

But it was already a step too late…

Whoosh—

Several blasts of energy surged toward the Planet Killer, aiming to obliterate the already battered vessel.

Fortunately, the Unyielding Fleet acted faster, constructing a dense wall of counter-fire to intercept the incoming attacks.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Explosions burst across the void, lighting up the darkness as colliding firestorms raged. The resulting shockwaves rocked the Planet Killer's thirty-kilometer-long frame, almost knocking it completely off its axis.

The bombardment from the Omen-class Arks was so intense that even the gathered firepower of several dozen battle groups could barely hold it back.

A Chaos energy beam grazed the side of the Planet Killer, shredding a flank section. Follow-up strikes utterly shattered the Warmaster's flagship.

And yet, Volradi's interception efforts bought precious time for the Imperial forces.

Just before the firestorm swallowed the area, the Regent led his final guard in evacuating this doomed battlefield.

—

Aboard the Macragge's Honour, Command Hall.

Guilliman, battered from battle, entered in haste, face lined with concern.

And he wasn't alone.

The other commanders within the hall wore similarly grim expressions.

All eyes turned toward the monstrous, blasphemous silhouette of the Chaos warship—an abominable fusion of steel and the Warp.

It was the first time they had faced such an appalling abomination.

In front of it, a regular cruiser looked like a child's toy—incapable of inflicting any harm.

"Volradi, your warning was right."

Guilliman stepped toward the core of the command dais, silently relieved that he had heeded Volradi's advice and left a portion of the fleet as a reserve force.

Had he committed all units elsewhere, they would've stood no chance against the Omen-class Arks under Abaddon's command—and would've suffered catastrophic losses.

At that moment, he fully embraced the Savior Fleet's cautious doctrine—always maintaining a strategic reserve.

He even began to reflect… had he been too reckless?

Guilliman stared at the twisted projection of the Omen-class Ark suspended midair and took a deep breath.

He thought of Eden. Had his brother infiltrated the Black Legion's stronghold within the Eye of Terror? That would certainly tie down the enemy.

But so far, no news had come.

There was no choice but to face the battle here and now.

If this terrifying fleet broke through into another war zone, it would shatter the Unyielding Expedition's grip on the Gloaming Stars.

Guilliman frowned deeply.

Could the Unyielding Fleet even handle these dreadful new Chaos warships?

They had no prior experience against such vessels.

His concerned gaze fell on the young fleet commander. Could he truly shoulder such a heavy burden?

"You needn't stress too much," Guilliman offered gently. "Just focus on testing the Ark's strength."

He was already mentally preparing for a strategic withdrawal if the situation turned dire.

But then—

He was startled to see excitement burning in Volradi's eyes.

"By the Savior's grace… Finally, the enemy's main force appears!"

Volradi hadn't even registered the Regent's words.

Cracking his knuckles, he injected a dose of cognitive enhancer into his neck and flexed his muscles.

Years of encountering only middling foes had left him unsung and unimpressive in the Savior's eyes.

He had no legendary victories, no glory to rival his peers.

Only shared triumphs.

But now—this was it!

A massive battle under his sole command. And not just any foe, but a famed Chaos Warmaster!

If he won this… surely the Savior would pay him personal attention—perhaps even invite him and his mother for a private dinner.

Rather than sending him off on ordinary missions again.

Volradi locked onto the projection of the Omen-class Ark, marking its vulnerable and attackable sections with practiced ease.

Then he noticed Guilliman's gaze and turned.

"Don't worry, my lord. I've got the most experience fighting giants like this."

He grinned confidently. "We've assembled a massive fleet. I can't guarantee victory, but I can promise—we won't lose!"

It was a modest claim.

In truth, Volradi believed he had over an 80% chance of winning.

In past extreme training simulations, he had the best record engaging supermassive warships—and even pulled off victories in desperate conditions.

Now, he commanded the Unyielding First Expeditionary Fleet, supported by elite reinforcements—a dream setup.

If he lost with this, he might as well slam his head into a bulkhead—he wouldn't have the face to see the Savior or his old instructors again.

After those words, Volradi ignored the Regent, channeling all his cognitive focus into commanding the fleet.

Rapidly, he orchestrated a multi-layered formation and launched the counteroffensive.

In the void…

Hundreds, even thousands of Imperial battle groups clashed with Chaos forces—undeterred by the threat of the Omen-class Arks.

In fact, they were pushing forward.

Inside the command hall…

Guilliman's eyes shone with surprise and hope. Under Volradi's direction, the Unyielding Fleet had a real shot at victory.

If they could destroy even one of those Arks—

It would strike a devastating blow to the Black Legion.

Such titanic warships were irreplaceable assets for any faction.

He glanced at Volradi with something like fatherly affection.

The Regent had made up his mind—no matter what, he would "renew the contract" with the Savior and keep this invaluable commander.

The Unyielding Fleet needed him!

"No!"

Suddenly, Volradi let out a pained cry, as if something dreadful had occurred.

"What's wrong?"

Guilliman's heart clenched—not just for the battle, but out of genuine concern for Volradi's condition.

He sensed the young man's body was beginning to show strain from prolonged mental overload.

"The Black Legion is retreating…"

Volradi sighed. Though the star map showed little, he had already sensed the subtle retraction of enemy formations.

There was no doubt—

The Black Legion was preparing to retreat.

"They must have realized what the Savior is doing in the Eye of Terror…"

His voice trembled with grief.

The fleets had only just engaged. The balance of power was still even. If the enemy chose to retreat now—there was no way to stop them.

He could see his legendary war record, his dream of being a hero… slipping away.

"You've done more than enough,"

Guilliman said softly, in a rare tone of gentleness.

Even Felix beside him felt a twinge of jealousy. Not even the Regent's most loyal genetic sons had ever been treated with such tenderness.

Guilliman was disappointed that they couldn't destroy the Ark here, but today's accomplishments were still commendable.

With the retreat of the Chaos beasts, he could now redirect forces to other war zones and recover lost territories within the Imperium's Dark Side.

Sure enough, the Omen-class Arks turned and accelerated toward the Eye of Terror.

Volradi did his best to pursue, using the opportunity to destroy as many escort ships as possible.

Every blow against the Black Legion weakened the strength of Chaos.

But still… the young commander's dream had shattered. The initial thrill was gone.

Not long ago...

Omen-class Ark, Core of the Mechanical Furnace.

The fleshy-metal hull was covered in ritual circles, glowing runes etched under extreme heat, and long chains of glyphs.

Daemon-engineers used these restraints to enslave the chaotic machine-spirits of the Ark, keeping them from rebelling.

Occasionally, one could glimpse twitching silver biomechanical worms—

These were daemonsteel neural clusters, vital parasitic constructs that allowed the ship to function as a cohesive entity. They dug deep into the vessel, fusing with its systems.

In the Soul Conduit, warp energy burned intensely.

It was essentially a Warp-space equivalent of a high-tier Astronomican. Its engine was forged from blood, steel, and daemonic essence—allowing the Ark to traverse Warp storms.

Its power came from a Warp Furnace—fueled by the souls of psykers.

Dozens of iron cages hung nearby, each containing a bound, blindfolded psyker. These were the power source.

It was, essentially, a corrupted imitation of the Astronomican—one that Abaddon used to openly mock the Emperor.

"Savior, how dare you!"

Abaddon's wrath filled the core chamber. His furious roars caused the bound psykers to convulse.

He had expected that the arrival of the Arks would grant him victory.

Instead, the Imperium received timely reinforcements—led by a commander who matched him blow for blow.

Just as Abaddon resolved to seize victory—

Zaraphiston the Sorcerer foresaw a shocking future.

The Savior had entered the Eye of Terror with an allied fleet—and his target was the Black Legion's fortress-world, Savagarr!

He planned to strike while Abaddon was away.

When Abaddon heard this… he felt the sky collapse.

Savagarr was the Black Legion's heart within the Eye of Terror.

It held his millennia-worth of accumulated resources, shipyards he'd poured his entire fortune into, and the hulls of future Omen-class Arks.

If he lost that—

The Black Legion might as well go bankrupt.

"That damned rat bastard… That filthy Savior… Those Tzeentchian freaks… I swear—&@!#^%!!"

Abaddon was so enraged he began babbling incoherently. The whole galaxy seemed to be conspiring against him.

He was overwhelmed by helpless fury.

"…We must return to the Eye of Terror."

Abaddon took a deep breath and steadied himself.

His crimson eyes flickered with hate. "Notify the other Chaos factions. We must unite to intercept the Savior—bring him utter destruction."

The Savior's fleet inside the Eye was limited. If they caught him in a trap, he would face annihilation.

(End of Chapter)

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