At this very moment, near the Rock.
While Abaddon was having an intimate "exchange" with his relatives, Vashtorr hadn't been idle either.
He was currently commanding a hidden Balefleet to tighten its formation and launch a sneak attack on the Rock.
Vashtorr sat at the core of his flagship, confirming the news he most wanted to hear through a stolen vox-receiver:
The vast majority of the forces on the Rock had been deployed to the front lines, relentlessly entangled with the main fleet of the Arks of Omen.
Vashtorr felt a surge of pleasure. He unleashed his full processing power, correlating and triangulating all the data he had collected.
This data was projected into his field of vision, forming a schematic layout of the Rock.
Sirens and signal bells blared piercingly without end within the fortress-monastery, indicating that Vashtorr's psychic intrusion had been exposed.
But Vashtorr ignored all of this. He continued to push deeper; based on process-of-elimination calculations and logical analysis, he knew the thing he was looking for absolutely had to be just ahead.
A section of cable peeled away from the wall, slithering its way into a grand hall to act as Vashtorr's eyes.
The space where the Tuchulcha Engine should have been housed was completely empty, with only scattered cables hanging limply on the walls.
And in the center of the hall, someone had used perfectly square blocks to build a giant hand.
All the fingers except the middle one were curled into a fist, with only that middle finger pointing straight up at the ceiling.
Vashtorr's database quickly retrieved the meaning of this symbol—a galaxy-wide universal gesture. He had been played.
Vashtorr was immediately perplexed. The Tuchulcha Engine was massive. Relocating it without damaging it would inevitably require a large-scale operation, unless the enemy possessed some sort of spatial storage ability.
It's a trap. Vashtorr realized his mistake. He had intended to take advantage of the Imperial forces launching a full-scale assault on the Arks of Omen to launch a sneak attack on the Rock from the rear and seize the engine.
But this also meant that Abaddon was left all alone on the Ark of Omen; his ally was fighting a solitary battle.
Alarms blared loudly within the Rock. Countless assault craft had already taken off from various hangars, locking onto Vashtorr's position.
Vashtorr immediately issued the order to retreat; he had to go support Abaddon at once.
–
Having finished dealing with Abaddon, Zeke had just built a prison for him in the Nether. Before he could even lock him inside, a voice echoed from behind.
"Where is the device that can bring true victory?" A sound like gears grinding against flesh rang out, carrying a trace of anger.
Everyone on the deck heard this voice.
In the void not far away, a cluster of electrical arcs was rapidly hurtling toward the deck. The arcs slammed into the metal, exploding into countless wandering sparks of lightning.
A daemon of fire and metal emerged from the lightning, levitating in mid-air, with residual energy still dancing across his bizarre metallic wings.
Foul, industrially polluted exhaust fumes billowed from his body like a shroud, obscuring his true face while simultaneously deterring any enemy who dared to approach.
The Primarchs gripped their weapons tightly, keeping their guard up against the Warp demigod before them.
The Key to the Soul Forges in Vashtorr's hand pointed directly at Zeke. "It seems Abaddon has fallen into your hands."
"Should we attack?" the Lion shot Zeke a look.
"Wait a moment. If Vashtorr wanted to attack us, he wouldn't be greeting us first. Judging by his tone, it seems he wants something from me," Zeke said openly, without any hesitation right in front of Vashtorr.
Vashtorr's eyes burned like bright lamps. He could tell that Zeke was the leader of this group of Imperial forces.
"Human, we could actually cooperate."
Zeke looked at Abaddon, who was kneeling on the ground. "Are you just going to sell out your teammate like that?"
"Not exactly," Vashtorr replied, his logic crystal clear. "Abaddon helped me find some fragments, and in return, I gave him the Arks of Omen. The cooperation between us has already been settled and cleared."
"Tch, Warp entities are all like this. There is absolutely no reason to trust them," the Lion advised Zeke.
"You can rest assured on that front. Vashtorr is different from the other Chaos Gods of the Warp you are imagining. He rarely uses lies to conceal his true motives, and the contracts he signs are basically all clearly priced and transparent."
These words made the Primarchs look at each other in dismay, but allowed Vashtorr to secretly breathe a sigh of relief.
He didn't know why this human understood him so well, but at least there was room to negotiate. The Key was far too important; it concerned his ascension to becoming the fifth Chaos God, allowing for absolutely no carelessness.
"What exactly are you collecting these things for?" Guilliman asked with a scrutinizing expression.
Vashtorr spoke again, eloquently detailing the history:
"A very long time ago, when your ancestors were still wriggling in protoplasmic slime, a war broke out between several god-like races.
One side was known as the Old Ones, and the other side consisted of the gods that parasitize the void and the stars.
"They shook the entire void, unleashing terrifying powers that even those who claim to be omniscient and omnipotent cannot comprehend."
Guilliman's interest was piqued, but he didn't want to let the daemon before him become smug, so he merely furrowed his brow.
"This war lasted for a very, very long time. Both sides paid a heavy price, falling one after another. Subsequently, lesser lifeforms began to appear, breeding on worlds that had lost their gods. They were cowardly and desperate, completely unable to see the power contained within the weapons left behind by their deceased masters, only remembering the destruction those devices brought upon them. Thus, filled with fear, they sealed these weapons away, closed the vault, and then dismantled the Key."
"Just get to the point, daemon." Zeke interrupted Vashtorr's showing off.
Although Vashtorr felt dissatisfied, he still shortened his tale.
"Of the three fragments of the Key, I have already found two. The final one is in your hands. What you need to do is very simple: hand the last fragment over to me. As a reward, we can share the treasures within the vault together, or I can build some inconceivable machines for you."
Zeke raised an eyebrow. "Inconceivable machines? Are they as inconceivable as Redstone and the Create mod?"
Vashtorr had never heard of Redstone, nor did he know what the 'Create mod' was, but he still sneered:
"Hmph. Human, do not challenge a god with your shallow knowledge. The technology I command is not something you could ever begin to fathom." He paused, pulling the topic back on track. "So, human, are you interested?"
"Give it a rest, Vashtorr. Don't think I couldn't hear it: what you've told me is nothing but inconsequential lore. Furthermore, quite a few of your words are misleading. For instance, your claim that you possess two fragments."
Zeke spoke unhurriedly, directly calling out Vashtorr's lie.
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If we somehow reach TOP 3 before the reset I will upload 3 more bonus chapters excluding the normal bonus chapter.