Abaddon stood on the bridge of the Vengeful Spirit. Beside him stood Falkus Kibre and a squad of Bringers of Despair.
The visual feeds displayed within the gaping maws of the gargoyles showed the distant battle situation.
Four Chapters. Abaddon was alard. Even if his father were here, he probably wouldn't be able to withstand such a terrifying offensive.
However, his goal was never to withstand it, but to stall for ti. As long as Vashtorr found the Tuchulcha Engine, everything would be fine.
It was just... could he really hold out until then?
Abaddon reviewed the entire battle once more, carefully searching through every detail of the tactical situation.
He couldn't shake the feeling that a familiar power was working in the shadows. Primarchs resurrecting one after another and gathering together—this could not possibly be a coincidence.
Soone had to be pulling the strings behind the scenes, secretly orchestrating all of this.
A floral scent that absolutely should not exist drifted into his nasal cavity. Abaddon's nostrils twitched slightly.
"Who is there?"
He abruptly spun around. Years of combat experience ant he didn't even need to think; his body instinctively entered a combat stance.
Within his line of sight, a winding forest path erged from the void like a mirage, and a golden-haired lion pounced toward him from the trail.
Lion El'Jonson.
During the Great Crusade when the Imperium of Man swept across the galaxy, Abaddon, along with Sigismund of the Imperial Fists and Raldoron of the Blood Angels, were jointly known as the "Three Heroes of the Great Crusade" and were selected into the Legion's Mournival.
It was entirely due to the glory of these honors that he had the privilege of eting many Primarchs. Facing the charging Lion, Abaddon was not unfamiliar with him.
Shock and joy simultaneously surged into his heart.
He was shocked that the Lord of the Dark Angels had tracked him down so quickly, and in such an unheard-of manner.
That forest path appearing out of thin air seed to be a teleportation ability capable of crossing spatial dinsions.
He was joyous because there was actually only one Primarch. This was aboard his Vengeful Spirit, his territory, his ho turf.
Coupled with the surrounding Chaos forces, it wasn't impossible to fight him.
Abaddon gave a aningful look to the Bringers of Despair around him. He wasn't stupid enough to duel the Lion one-on-one.
Coincidentally, the Lion was thinking the exact sa thing. He pulled out a Blueprint and held it in his hand.
The Forest Walk couldn't transport too many people. After so discussion, they had decided to use Zeke's Nether Portal instead.
Then, Abaddon's nightmare arrived. It was a square doorfra—one that Abaddon found extrely familiar.
"It's you, Zeke!"
In an instant, all the clues connected, and Abaddon finally knew who the mastermind behind the scenes was.
No wonder Guilliman could reinforce them so rapidly. No wonder the Lion dared to charge onto his flagship entirely alone.
He had seen this thing on Cadia. At the ti, he hadn't fully understood its purpose. It was only through post-battle analysis that he realized it acted as a teleportation gate.
Once established, an endless stream of troops would teleport through it. The impact this would have on a war was entirely subversive.
"Stop him!"
The Warmaster roared, taking the lead and charging forward.
Armor servos whined, and heavy footsteps slamd against the deck, echoing with the clanking sounds of tal striking tal.
The Bringers of Despair followed closely behind, their bolters already raised.
The movents of the Lion's hands did not cease. He didn't stop building the portal to engage in a lee with Abaddon.
Before Abaddon even reached him, the construction of the Nether Portal was already complete. It barely took any ti to begin with.
The Lion finally deigned to look the Warmaster straight in the eye. There was not a single ripple of emotion within those beast-like, golden pupils.
"I hear you have attained power comparable to a Primarch. I will show you just how astronomically wrong you are."
Abaddon's angry roar echoed across the bridge as the Talon of Horus lunged straight for the Lion's head.
With a light flick of the Netherite Sword in his hand, the Lion completely deflected all the kinetic force behind the Talon of Horus.
The vicious, jagged claws scraped past his breastplate without leaving so much as a scratch on the paint.
Abaddon's second strike followed imdiately, swinging the daemon sword Drach'nyen with his left hand.
This cursed weapon practically oozed the most primal malice along its blade.
The Lion's beast-like intuition captured the threat hidden within it. His right hand brought up the shield at his side, perfectly blocking the blade's path.
Abaddon's eyes widened. He couldn't believe soone could block this strike with such precise timing and angle.
It was as if that shield had predicted his every movent, moving into position before he even launched the attack.
"Compared to your father, you still have a very long way to go."
The Lion thrust his sword, swatting Abaddon across the side of his face in an almost humiliating manner.
What mildly shocked the Lion was just how thick Abaddon's skin actually was. He had used ten tenths of his strength, yet it only left a bloody gash sliced into the flesh of that face.
Abaddon crashed into the bulkhead, denting the tal wall. He struggled to his feet and wiped his face, his hand coming away stained with crimson blood.
Why is the gap so massive? This was Abaddon's first ti fighting a Primarch in earnest.
In his expectations, he should have at least been able to fight them to a fifty-fifty draw.
Refusing to accept defeat, Abaddon raised his head, wanting to try again, only to see the watery film stretching across the Nether Portal pouring out an endless stream of Space Marines.
The colors of their armor varied—dark green, blood red, grayish-white—but without exception, all of their morale was sky-high.
"This man has learned the secret of the Dark Angels! Kill him!" Chapter Master Azrael charged with the Sword of Secrets, its tip aid straight at Abaddon.
"Worthy of the blood of Sanguinius!" The second to charge out was Dante, wearing the death mask of Sanguinius, his blood-red armor blazing like a roaring fire.
"For the Imperial Regent!" A uniform wave of Smurfs poured out of the portal, the Ultramarines' war cry ringing across the bridge.
"Blood for the Blood God!" A World Eater had only roared half the sentence before a veteran behind him slapped him hard on the back of the head. "Are you stupid? We aren't the World Eaters of the past anymore!"
The World Eater rubbed his head, stunned for a second, and imdiately switched slogans: "For Angron!"
The Space Marines of the various Chapters imdiately plunged into the battlefield, engaging in fierce, bloody combat with the Black Legion, the Dark chanicum of the Arks of On, the Word Bearers, and various other Chaos forces.
The flas of war raged across the Vengeful Spirit. This warship, modified by Vashtorr, tottered precariously amidst the sky-high fires, looking as if it could collapse at any mont.
Abaddon's heart bled. The relic left behind by his genetic father was currently suffering unprecedented devastation.
But that was no longer the thing he needed to worry about the most.
Because the final three figures to step out of that Nether Portal made him feel, for the very first ti, what true despair was.
"Long ti no see, Abaddon."
"Zeke! You are too despicable! What kind of skill is ganging up on soone?! If you have the guts, fight one-on-one!"
Zeke answered Abaddon with action. He unclipped Angron's Poké Ball from his waist and threw it, bringing the final Primarch onto the stage.
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Next Goal = 1650 Powerstones.
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