Warhammer: Empire Reboot

Page 584

Abaddon slowly stood up.

A mesmerizing power surged through the newborn's arms. With just a slight clench of his fist, sparks flew from miniature subspace storms in the air.

But the stronger this force became, the more intense his humiliation and anger became.

Horus's Claw is lost.

Drachner is lost.

The Soul of Vengeance was also taken.

His divine messenger, Haken, died.

The adjutant also died.

The great Black Legion, on Vigilant Planet, had its dignity torn to shreds by that man named Lawson, in front of the Imperial Chapters, the Astronauts, and even the gods.

His arms were torn off in public, and like a defeated dog, he was forcibly dragged away from the battlefield by the Four Gods.

Abaddon walked down from the altar with a gloomy face.

He walked to a piece of floating bridge wreckage, raised his left hand, and grabbed it.

The power of the newborn arm surged forth.

He crushed the heavy, adamantite-coated bridge hull with a single hand.

Metal fragments slipped through his fingers.

“Losen…”

"I will personally tear your head off."

"I will hang it in front of the throne of the Vengeance Soul and watch it rot."

As soon as he finished speaking, his movements suddenly froze.

The Soul of Vengeance is no longer in his hands.

This thought, like a rusty iron hook, pierced his brain nerves, causing his suppressed anger to nearly explode again.

Just then.

The crimson tide churning on the outer edge of the fleet split open on both sides without warning.

A massive shadow, accompanied by a piercing mechanical roar, slowly drove into this lawless land.

The fire control systems of the Black Legion's remaining warships immediately sounded an alarm and locked onto the behemoth.

But the Ark stopped precisely at the edge of the fleet's artillery range limit.

Then, a portal composed of high-speed gears and dark red hellfire slowly opened in front of Abaddon's altar.

A figure strode out of the door.

The Creator, Vashtor.

His form is somewhere between a machine and a demon.

A huge metal wing extends from behind it.

The chest cavity contained no flesh and blood, but a burning, dark furnace.

The limbs are composed of living steel, tormented dark machine spirits, and warp concepts.

The mechanical demon demigod looked at Abaddon's newly formed arms with his prosthetic eyes that flashed with data streams, and let out a metallic, scraping laugh.

"The Great Chaos Warmaster".

“You are closer to the shape that the gods desire than when I last saw you.”

Abaddon's eyes were so cold they looked like he wanted to kill someone.

"You've come at just the right time, Vashtor."

Vashtor opened his palm, which was made of blades and gears, and made an exaggerated listening gesture.

"of course."

"Because of my keen hearing, I caught the sound of something breaking in the Milky Way."

"The War General's invincible fleet, the War General's personal weapon, the War General's flagship throne."

"And the War General has little patience left."

Abaddon's eye twitched suddenly, and he took a step forward with an air of menace.

The surrounding Black Legion Terminator Lords simultaneously raised their weapons.

Vashtor looked Abaddon up and down like an old blacksmith assessing an expensive but chipped sword.

"Don't get me wrong, Abaddon."

I'm not here to laugh at you.

"Mocking is a cheap hobby of Slaanesh and his gang of lustful bitches."

"Only true victors are entitled to enjoy that kind of emotion."

"But now I only see a great conqueror who has temporarily lost his convenient tools."

Abaddon scoffed, "You want to sell me weapons?"

Vashtor turned to the side and pointed with a sharp metal finger at the massive, mountain-like Omen Ark in the distance.

"I brought you a gift."

"Ominous Ark".

"A complete hull structure, fully equipped with a heavy firepower array of demonic engines, and a precious warp anchoring core."

"It can fill the most urgent need of your battered fleet."

Abaddon stared intently at the ark.

"In the warp, gifts are never free."

"of course."

Vashtor replied, "Things that are free will eventually turn the person who receives them into a cheap slave."

“You absolutely hate being a slave.”

"And I absolutely hate wasting materials."

"We agree on this point."

Abaddon turned and walked back to the center of the altar, looking down at his opponent like a king.

"Just state your price."

Vashtor followed with heavy, metallic steps.

"I want to form an alliance with you."

Several Black Legion lords were taken aback at first, then let out arrogant sneers.

One of the hot-tempered gang leaders stepped forward and sneered:

"A demon who hasn't even touched the throne of a god dares to say he wants to form an alliance with a great war general?"

"When did you bunch of bastards who crawled out of the warp learn to use such advanced vocabulary?"

Vashtor stopped in his tracks.

next second.

The heavy clasp on the leader of the war gang's breastplate popped open on its own amidst the ear-piercing mechanical noise.

The power pack tubing on his back coiled like a venomous snake, tightly constricting his neck.

Immediately afterwards, the breathing filter inside his helmet emitted a malfunctioning shriek and began pouring industrial oil mist of several hundred degrees Celsius into his mouth and nose.

"what!"

The leader of the battle gang let out a short scream before clutching his neck and collapsing to his knees. After convulsing a few times, he fell silent.

Vashtor then looked away.

"I will not only use a lot of advanced vocabulary."

"I'm also good at taking apart many things that seem solid."

Abaddon remained aloof throughout, offering no intervention.

The unfortunate gang leader suffocated to death in his own power armor, his body still in a ridiculous kneeling position.

"So what exactly do you want?"

"godhead."

Vashtor answered directly.

Even Abaddon's expression changed slightly.

"You want to be the fifth in the warp?"

"I want to officially sit at that gambling table called the Great Game."

The furnace flames within Vashtor's chest pulsed violently, and his voice was filled with fanaticism.