The Warp.
A pitch-black behemoth spewed hellfire, scorching the surrounding Chaos energies.
It was a Blackstone Ark of Omen, the Dark Prince's personal vessel—
The Heart of Terror.
On the flagship's deck, a sea of Terror Warriors gathered in a black tide.
Their armor burned with dark crimson flame, and they carried modified heavy weapons.
"We are the most feared Chaos host in the galaxy and the Warp. This time, we must destroy those cowards.
"They've disgraced the face of Chaos Warriors!"
Dread Commander Eli roared as he addressed his warriors.
He was among the earliest to join the Terror Legion, blessed by Diablo the Destroyer, and proud of what he was.
To a Terror Warrior, other Chaos Warriors were no better than stinking beggars—so filthy they wanted to cut ties just to keep their own name clean.
Now the true power behind the Terror Legion had finally stepped into the open: the Savior, the Chaos Warmaster—Diablo the Destroyer's proxy in the galaxy and the Warp.
He had given the Terror Legion a sacred mission: to take part in the Great Game of the Empyrean, instead of fooling around in the galaxy like the Black Legion.
Not long ago, that Savior—Chaos Warmaster—issued an edict. The Terror Legion mobilized almost in full and entered the war for the Vigilus warzone.
Their target was the Black Legion—those cowards who didn't dare face the gods.
The Savior—Chaos Warmaster—had provided exact intelligence. They were to repay it with a harvest of victories.
At the same time, the Black Legion's flagship—the Planet Killer—completed its translation and appeared on the outer edge of the Vigilus region.
No one knew.
This Blackstone leviathan was a brand-new flagship, built using only part of the Planet Killer's original hull, yet inheriting its name.
On the bridge.
A Warp-forge was wrapped in countless cables of flesh and daemon-steel. Inside one hanging cage after another were blind sorcerers, sacrificing their souls to keep the forge blazing.
The hazy light spilling down from the Empyrean illuminated the whole chamber, making it colder, more whisper-filled, more wrong.
"Traitor!"
Abaddon advanced in black armor, crushing the air with his presence. The Talon of Horus crackled with warp-lightning.
He was enormous, surging with corrupted power.
Pssh—
The claw punched through a rusted suit of power armor, impaling a Chaos commander and lifting him into the air.
"You think your pathetic little tricks could escape the Despoiler's eyes?"
Abaddon stared at the dying Chaos commander with contempt.
"I knew from the start you were a lapdog of the Terror Legion.
"If I hadn't allowed it, do you think you could've passed our route to anyone? What you sent was false intelligence. It helped me. It let the Black Legion reach our real destination."
The Chaos commander's eyes flashed with shock.
He tried to beg—
The Talon of Horus tore him apart.
Thick, foul blood splashed across the nearby Chaos commanders, and fear spread through them like poison.
"This is the fate of traitors." Abaddon looked over the Chaos figures present, speaking slowly.
"No one escapes the Despoiler's gaze. The only end for a traitor is death!"
After that, under the guard of his inner retinue, Abaddon returned to his throne.
The Planet Killer resumed its voyage, heading for its true destination.
The Black Legion had fed the Terror Legion—or rather, that so-called Savior—bad information. It would force cracks and gaps in Vigilus' defenses.
Cracks the Black Legion could exploit.
"The Savior has won too many times. He's grown arrogant," Abaddon thought in silence. "He doesn't understand that failure will follow him like a shadow."
The Savior wanted to defend the entire Vigilus region with the Imperium's might.
Impossible.
Unless his fleets could encircle the whole system, there would always be holes.
"I've lost countless times," Abaddon's gaze hardened, "but I only need to win once."
Over the years, his prestige had taken blow after blow—robbed, defeated, mocked with Slaaneshi rumors—yet he had never fallen.
He still fought to maintain his authority.
Especially after losing the title of Chaos Warmaster.
But Abaddon knew he couldn't keep going like this. If he did, his legitimacy would be challenged—and the Black Legion would lose its grip.
It would fracture.
He needed a victory. A grand victory.
One that would drag the title of Despoiler back into the galaxy's awareness, burn it into memory, and create a new rallying force—
Instead of fading into irrelevance.
Vigilus was the perfect target. The Savior wanted it and had poured vast forces into the warzone.
Once Abaddon realized that, he began planning. Nothing would restore his prestige more than shattering the Savior—the Emperor of the Imperium—and ruining his designs.
This was his all-in gambit, staking his last strength.
"The Black Legion's main force has fought in the Vigilus warzone for years. We understand this place better.
"Compared to the Savior, I have the advantage. I know its weaknesses."
A thread of hatred slid across Abaddon's face.
"Even if I can't claim Vigilus again… no one else will."
That was the Despoiler's true purpose.
He would destroy Vigilus.
If he couldn't have it, then the Savior wouldn't have it either.
And fortunately—everything was unfolding smoothly.
After feeding the Savior false information, Abaddon immediately began operating across multiple fronts, breaking the Black Legion apart into smaller groups.
They converged from different regions, then slammed into the defensive lines.
"Not many beings in the galaxy can micro-manage war like this," Abaddon thought with confidence. It was undeniable—tactically, there was nothing wrong with his plan.
Soon, the Planet Killer would punch through the line, then land with Blackstone seismic devices and destroy Vigilus.
The Warp storm triggered by the annihilation of the Blackstone deposits would sever the Nachmund Gauntlet entirely, turning the region into a paradise for Chaos.
It would be a victory no less glorious than the Fall of Cadia.
"This will be the sixteenth Black—"
Abaddon murmured, then cut himself off. It felt unlucky.
He didn't want to talk about Black Crusades anymore.
Maybe after Vigilus was destroyed—after his prestige returned and his strength recovered—then he could consider it again.
"Seer. Will we reach the target region smoothly?"
After a moment of silence, Abaddon turned to the Chaos seer beside him—Moriana.
During war, he liked to ask her whether the future looked favorable.
Moriana's eyes were washed white. She lightly raised her deadwood staff, and the blind sorcerers' wailing intensified.
Her psychic power flowed through the staff into the Warp-forge, searching the Empyrean for an answer.
Countless fragments flashed by.
Most were dim.
Unreadable.
The seer searched patiently, and at last caught a thin trace of what might be.
A hint of joy appeared on her pallid face.
"My lord, our ships will soon arrive at the designated region, precisely on schedule."
Hearing that, Abaddon felt steadier.
He gave a hoarse chuckle.
"Of course. We're using a completely new set of routes. How could we possibly be intercepted?"
This plan was hidden, sudden. The Savior was being led by false intelligence. How could anything go wrong?
Abaddon couldn't even imagine how he could lose this time.
Boom—
The Planet Killer slammed out of the Warp and reached the designated assembly point.
In the next instant, the ship's augurs screamed, detecting a mass of signals.
It barely needed augur warnings. Through the bridge's canopy, they could already see the Imperial fleet ahead, glittering with cold light.
"Don't tell me…" Abaddon lurched to his feet, staring. "Did the fleet get surrounded by the Imperium again?"
The fleet had arrived—but an Imperial ambush was waiting.
"I'm finished."
His face was frozen in disbelief. A cold dread rose from his gut and flooded his bones.
The Despoiler remembered the ordeal of the Fourteenth Black Crusade.
Back then, his fleet had blundered straight into the core of an Ultramarines primarch's battle group, swallowed by endless broadsides.
Enemy ships on all sides. Firepower like a storm that never ended.
Even thinking about it made his hands go cold.
A hundred years had passed, yet the terror still sat in his mind like it happened yesterday.
Like the wheel of fate turning again.
Only this time was worse.
The Savior's encirclement would be even more horrifying than any primarch's.
"Is the Savior truly omniscient and omnipotent," Abaddon thought wildly, "or am I just cursed with rotten luck?!"
His body trembled despite himself, and his mind fixated on one word—
Retreat.
The Savior was terrifying beyond reason. This fight was impossible!
Yet in the instant he was about to order withdrawal, he swallowed the words back down—and a spark of hope flared.
There weren't many Imperial ships here.
If even one more Black Legion fleet arrived, they could wipe this Imperial force out completely.
And this was the designated rendezvous zone.
They could still fight.
Abaddon's emotions rode a brutal loop. He drew a deep breath.
"The Savior didn't predict our route. This is just routine defense—otherwise there'd be far more ships."
He knew what kind of firepower the Savior used when he decided to crush an enemy.
If this were a trap, the void would be filled wall-to-wall with Imperial hulls.
Because so many Warp storms raged across the Vigilus region, travel couldn't be direct. In this area, ships had to perform short-range jumps.
Which meant exiting the Warp.
The Savior likely had defenses stationed at multiple "breach points" to block enemy movement.
"Unfortunately for him, that only spreads his forces thin," Abaddon sneered. "It gives the Black Legion more opportunities."
He issued the order to engage.
Black Legion fleets would arrive from other routes soon. They would concentrate power, annihilate the Imperial fleet here, and tear open a massive hole in the defense.
After that, pushing toward Vigilus would be even easier.
BOOM!!!
The Planet Killer's main cannon glowed with a dying red light—like a doomsday eye.
Then the crimson beam ripped through the void and struck the Imperial fleet's flagship.
The battleship's void shields shattered with a thundercrack. The spill of energy disrupted nearby vessels and threw the formation into chaos.
Yet the Imperial commander seemed to have anticipated this. The fleet reorganized quickly and launched a counterattack.
A flood of lances and macro-cannon fire slammed into the Planet Killer's Chaos shields—
Only to be twisted and shredded into powerless debris.
But the barrage didn't stop. It kept coming, steadily chewing down the Chaos shielding.
"That Imperial battleship has layered void shields," Abaddon muttered, annoyed. "No wonder it can withstand the Doomsday Cannon."
It was beyond the Black Legion's expectations. If they'd charged just a little longer, they could have destroyed it in a single blow and seized the advantage.
Still—his reinforcements would arrive soon.
Once they did, wiping out this Imperial fleet would be effortless.
Abaddon sat back down on his throne, calm again, watching the battle for this patch of space.
Both sides drove ships forward, lines colliding. Lances, plasma, and macro fire interwove. Torpedoes slipped out in silent waves.
Some warships surged aggressively, ramming with armored prows, closing for boarding assaults.
The region became a slaughterhouse.
But gradually, Abaddon realized something was wrong.
More and more Imperial ships were arriving.
And the Black Legion fleets that were supposed to converge—
No word. No sign.
Pressure mounted across the line.
…?
Abaddon felt genuinely lost.
Where are my fleets?
Not long after, the sorcerers came running in panic with an emergency report—
Multiple Black Legion fleets across different routes had been intercepted.
By the Imperium, by Orks, by Aeldari, and by the Terror Legion, among others.
That was why the fleets hadn't arrived.
"Damn it," Abaddon's blood ran cold. "What is this?"
Was it an accident?
Or had the Savior predicted his prediction?
But if that were true—what about the xenos forces? Could that man really direct the xenos across the Vigilus region?
No matter what the answer was, the Despoiler's micro-control had failed.
"All units, retreat. Withdraw from this sector!"
Abaddon didn't hesitate. He gave the order immediately.
That was one of his strengths: when it's time to run, you run—preserve your power.
He was used to it.
Otherwise the Black Legion wouldn't have survived through sixteen Black Crusades and still retained enough strength to fight at all.
Abaddon gathered the remaining Chaos warships and initiated a coordinated short-range Warp jump, fleeing the Vigilus region as fast as possible.
This was the only way out.
The surprise strike on Vigilus was finished.
Retreat, preserve strength, wait for another chance—
That was the best choice.
And perhaps, when Vigilus turned into a grinding stalemate again, he could still return for a sudden stab in the ribs.
Erebus, at least, would never let the Savior rest easy.
Abaddon thought of it bitterly.
Erebus had once sought him out, proposing cooperation. Abaddon had refused. He wanted nothing to do with that shameless creature.
And besides—Erebus stood behind the Chaos Gods.
But what happened next chilled Abaddon even further.
The Savior's shadow clung to him like a curse.
Every time the Black Legion emerged from the Warp, they were immediately surrounded and attacked.
Four or five times in a row.
Even the Empyrean soul-pylons began to smoke from the repeated Warp travel, and the blind sorcerers withered and died in batches.
"Has the Savior placed defensive lines in every region?"
Abaddon's eyes filled with growing anxiety and unrest.
Then more reports came, one after another.
Several Black Legion fleets were annihilated.
Worse—more Black Legion fleets, after being intercepted by the Terror Legion, didn't even bother to fight or flee.
They simply defected.
Some even declared it a turning-from-darkness-to-light—the new Chaos Warmaster was more worthy of a Chaos Warrior's loyalty.
That was the terror of the Savior's influence and propaganda—on top of the Terror Legion's better treatment.
Eden had given Chaos Warriors a new "goal."
Not the conquest of realspace—but the eternal war of the Empyrean.
And the enemy?
The Chaos Gods.
Compared to that, attacking some fortress world or even Holy Terra suddenly felt… low-class.
Especially after some Chaos Warriors, invited by the Savior—Chaos Warmaster, swaggered into Holy Terra for a "visit," then went and checked in at the Imperial Palace like tourists.
Your peers are vacationing on Holy Terra.
And you're still shouting about storming the Sol System.
Say it out loud and you wouldn't even dare show your face.
Because most Chaos Warriors only wanted war after war—to prove their value.
So the "value" of Imperial bastions and Holy Terra seemed lower now, at least compared to god-slaying.
Thus, aside from the Chaos Warriors directly controlled by the Warp gods, most were more inclined toward the new Chaos Warmaster's goal.
To Abaddon, these messages were lethal.
The Black Legion was disintegrating. There was almost no chance of recovery.
"Traitors. All of them traitors—why?!"
Abaddon smashed an armrest of his throne. In grief and fury, he didn't even have the strength to stand.
Betrayal wasn't the deepest wound.
The deepest wound was that Chaos Warriors no longer wanted to be enemies of the Imperium—no longer wanted to attack Holy Terra at all.
To attack Holy Terra and rule the Imperium was the Warmaster's dying wish.
It was Abaddon's life goal.
It was the Black Legion's faith.
Now that faith was shattered—its foundations ripped out.
How could he possibly turn the board over?
He couldn't understand.
Why were Chaos Warriors unwilling to attack Holy Terra?
"I don't understand.
"Why is everyone talking about war in the Empyrean, instead of committing to realspace and ruling the Imperium?"
Abaddon collapsed back against his throne, his voice trembling.
"As if the galaxy—Holy Terra—means nothing to us.
"Ten thousand years ago, the Black Legion marched from the Eye of Terror and raised the Black Crusades. Everywhere we went, war burned…"
The once-Warmaster—Despoiler—recalled the glory of the past, when his might was at its peak, and the Black Legion's name shook the stars.
And now… would this small place, the Vigilus warzone, become the Black Legion's grave?
Abaddon slowly raised his head. His eyes were full of vengeance—
But before he could react, new alarms blared.
Boarding alerts.
And with them…
The Savior's presence.
(End of Chapter)
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