Warhammer: Empire Reboot

Vashtor also embedded specially designed subspace portals deep within each ark.

Those rewritten and tormented giant portals allow the Ark to make jumps between the physical universe and the High Heavens with far greater precision than a regular Chaos Fleet.

What truly made Huron uncomfortable were the ghastly green pillars of light atop the ark.

Soul-inducing pillar.

Vashtor's vicious imitation of the Terra Star Torch.

Each Soul-Guiding Pillar is composed of twisted flesh, spiked black steel, and thousands of crushed and stitched-back demonic spirits.

Its fuel is psionic energy.

Psionicists abducted from various worlds by the Black Legion will be nailed alive to pillars.

The magic steel pipes pierced their brains, spinal cords, and chest cavities, igniting their souls under the dual pressure of pain, fear, and warp energy.

That light was far less magnificent than the Terra Star Torch.

It was short, filthy, and foul-smelling, like a moldy wick burning in dead man's oil.

As long as the Soul Pillar remains intact, the cruisers, destroyers, troop transports, and cultist transports following the Omen Ark will be able to maintain their attack formation and stay on track amidst the unpredictable warp storms.

A chaotic fleet was finally able to advance in formation through the storm like an army.

That in itself is terrifying enough.

As for how to pilot this deformed behemoth that couldn't even be drawn up in structural diagrams, Vashtor's answer was even simpler.

In the core control room of each Omen Ark, a demonic entity is nailed to the ground.

The ferryman.

Pierced by iron nails, runic chains, and magic steel nerve plexuses, they lost their ability to function in the real universe. Their consciousness was forcibly expanded and merged with the entire Ark's engines, fire control systems, shields, gravitational fields, and warp gates.

The Chaos Lord only needs to stand in front of the ferryman and give the order.

The ferryman would turn this deformed continent, which is tens or even hundreds of kilometers long, around, fire upon it, airdrop supplies, or open a subspace portal.

The devil is the helmsman.

Used as a skeleton for scrapped ships.

The psionicist is the lamp oil.

This is the war machine that Vashtor gave to Abaddon.

The first batch of Ominous Arks has been delivered, numbering in the dozens.

Deeper into the anchorage, more derelict space ships are being towed towards the dark mechanical dock by tractor beams.

Each dock is like a gaping maw, waiting to swallow the wreckage and then spit out new monsters.

These ominous arks, along with the remaining main force of the Black Legion, the defeated Red Pirates, the Word Bearers' ritual fleet, the Iron Warriors' siege formation, and countless Chaos Warbands that have defected, constitute a new trump card in Abaddon's hands.

Disaster Fleet.

Its scale was comparable to Guilliman's Indomitable Expedition.

But chaos never truly belonged to anyone.

Therefore, Abaddon had to put his hand down the throat of every fleet.

The Disaster Fleet was divided into dozens of battle groups.

Some were led by the Black Legion's champion commanders, while others were handed over to the Chaos Lords who came with their troops.

Some of the largest Omen Arks even housed legions of Chaos Space Marines, as well as billions of cultists, slaves, and mutated monsters.

They have only one goal.

Key fragments.

Whether the signal points to an Imperial Fortress World, a Death Planet, an Alien Ruins, or a cemetery no one dares to approach, the Catastrophe Fleet will arrive, conquer, and rip open the earth's crust to find the fragments.

Abaddon knew exactly what his men were.

loyalty?

That's a term that only Imperial idiots and Word-Willing madmen would seriously use.

Therefore, every calamity fleet controlled by an outside war gang was crammed with Black Legion Chosen Ones and Champion Warriors.

The nominal purpose is collaboration.

It was actually surveillance.

These overseers possess the authority to fire beyond their command level and are authorized to decapitate commanders on the bridge. If necessary, they can wage war inside the Ark, turning the entire fleet into a bloody slaughterhouse, all to ensure that the key fragments ultimately reach Abaddon.

But Abaddon's insurance has more than one layer.

Before setting sail, he secretly met with a group of people from the Alpha Legion.

There was no record of that meeting.

No witnesses left alive.

The leader of the destruction, wearing the insignia of a multi-headed serpent, stood in the shadows, his voice neither male nor female, and his face not the same as the one he was referring to.

Abaddon offered them a price: pure gene seeds left over from the Great Rebellion, untouched by severe mutations; and, upon completion, three rare stealth cruisers to be chosen from the Black Legion's armory.

The exchange conditions are simple.

They broke into smaller units and infiltrated the disaster fleet.

They did not need to report to the Black Legion overseers, nor did they need to participate in the frontal assaults.

In the worst-case scenario—if the Warlord rebels, the Overseer is killed, or the Ark goes out of control—ensure that the key fragments are returned to Abaddon by any means.

Whether it's stealing or cheating.

Even blowing a hole in the whole ship would be fine.

The fragments must be returned.

Huron only learned about this deepest safety bolt later.

After finding out, he only said one thing: "You really don't trust anyone."

Abaddon replied, "I believe they will betray us."

Now, the first fleets of disaster ships are leaving the anchorage one after another.

The Soul-Guiding Pillar at the top of the Ark glowed with a ghastly green light, and the Warp Gate resembled an open, rotting eye socket.

The massive ship slowly disappeared into the whirlpool, followed closely by the escort fleet, the bridge lights flickering as they departed.

Huron watched as the Ominous Ark, carrying tens of thousands of Chaos Space Marines, disappeared.

"Sixty ships."

Huron continued, "Just counting those that can be deployed immediately, there are sixty Ominous Arks. Add to that the legion-level formation navigation provided by the Soul-Guiding Pillars, Warlord, if we push all of these towards the orbit of the Vigilant Star now!!"

“Lorson’s grid defense will be torn apart. No matter how many lines his assassins fill, a hundred holes will open at the same time. We can plow the entire Vigilant Star into a pulp and drag that bastard out of his tower.”

Huron turned his head and looked at Abaddon with his one eye.

Don't you want to watch?

Abaddon slowly gripped the hilt of the sword at his waist, and the makeshift greatsword emitted a low groan as if it could not withstand the strain.

“I want to set the course of the Cataclysmic Fleet right now. I want to tear open the crust of Vigilant Star and crush the spire of Agrippina to ashes. I want to nail the warriors of Lawson before his eyes one by one and make him watch them burn.”

"But thinking doesn't mean you can do it."

Abaddon looked out the porthole at the remaining images of the ark.

"The Cataclysm Fleet can fly because of the Felsteel Neural Plexus, the Ferryman, the Soul Pillar, and the Warp Gate. The one who truly holds the key to this system is neither you nor me."

"It's Vashtor."

The bridge floor seemed to tremble slightly when the name was uttered.

Abaddon continued, "The Creator will not allow us to invest his assets in a revenge war that yields no profit until all the key fragments are gathered."

Huron's voice lowered slightly, "Losen's head isn't considered a gain?"

“It applies to you and me,” Abaddon said, “but not to him.”

Huron tapped his prosthetic knuckles against the armor on his leg.

Abaddon said coldly, "You and I have both seen what Lawson has in his hands—that damned speed of logistical support. Of course, he can fight if he sends sixty Ominous Arks over. But if he can only hold off a portion of them, even just ten or twenty, it will still damage Vashtor's plans."

"So when will we wait?"

Abaddon said, "Get the new weapons. Get what Vashtor promised. And then let Lawson know that taking the Vengeful Spirit is not a victory."

"They just wrote the date of death one line later."

Huron was silent for a moment, then finally let out a low laugh from his metal throat.

"Then he can live a little longer."

“The faster he expands, the bigger his grave becomes,” Abaddon said.

Behind the bridge, a piercing sound of gears grinding suddenly came from the shadows.

All machine servants stopped moving at the same time.

Black data streams emerged from the gaps in the bridge deck, and countless tiny gears flew out of the shadows, meshing, recombining, and stacking to form the silhouette of a towering demon.

Vashtor stepped out of the shadows.

"Your hatred for that human warlord is too noisy."

"It even affected the energy output stability of the three nearby Soul-Guiding Pillars."

"I'm here to remind you that the contract is still in effect."

"You provide labor, fleets, blood, and conquest."

He then pointed to the enormous arks in the anchorage.

"I provide the Ark of Omens, the Soul-Guiding Pillar, the Ferryman, the Search Device, and the Path to Find the Key Fragments."

The mechanical knuckles stopped between the two.

"Before the contract is finalized, do not attempt to alter the course of the Calamity Fleet based on your cheap personal grudges."