Chapter 140: The First Black Crusade
The Vengeful Spirit slowly passed through the torn warp rift and descended upon the daemon world where the Sons of Horus resided. In the distance, a magnificent yet menacing city stood amidst the chaos, Maeleum, the City of Canticles.
Abaddon strode into the city's heart.
The city's high walls blazed with inextinguishable chaotic flame, and the air grew thick with the stench of decay and blood. Countless Chaos warbands occupied this place.
Along the way, Abaddon's black power armor gleamed with cold light, and the Talon of Horus on his left hand emitted a low hum, as if thirsting for fresh blood. His followers, Falkus and Khayon, silently pursued him, their eyes tracking his every movement.
Whenever Abaddon approached a Chaos warband's stronghold, the warband leader emerged to meet him.
"Abaddon! Your Primarch is dead, what are you doing here?" one snarled.
"No way, they still want us to obey the Warmaster's orders!" another scoffed. "But the Warmaster is gone, hahaha~."
The gang leader's eyes flashed crimson, his voice low and rough. He stretched out his hands mockingly, bending two fingers in contempt, as if mocking a child who had lost his father's protection.
A sharp crack echoed through the air.
Before the leader could react, he looked down in shock to find four of his fingers missing. His hand hung mutilated at his side. For a moment, he stood frozen. Then he roared in anger.
"DAMN YOU! ABBA..." Before he could finish speaking, a black blur flashed before his eyes. The headless body of the Chaos gang leader fell to the ground.
Blood trickled from the Talon of Horus as Abaddon's eyes blazed with fury. When he spoke, his voice was low and measured, all the more terrible for its control.
"No one can insult the Warmaster. I will inherit everything Horus has to offer! The crusade will not end!"
With each enemy he defeated, Abaddon roared out his identity, his deep voice echoing like a howl from the warp itself, intimidating all who witnessed it.
"I am Abaddon!"
"I am the successor of Horus!"
His steps were firm, like an unstoppable storm. More than a dozen Chaos warbands attempted to stop him, each leader defending their territory with violence and force, but all fell one by one before Abaddon's advance. Bodies littered his path.
Each swing of the Talon of Horus carried deadly speed and power, tearing any challenger into a bloody mist. The other members of the warbands, watching Abaddon's back, seemed to see the Warmaster himself reborn.
"Warmaster?" whispered the voices in confusion. "How is that possible? The Warmaster is already dead!"
"What is he trying to do?" Their eyes filled with curiosity, they gathered and followed him, drawn by the force of his presence.
Finally, Abaddon stepped into the central square of Maeleum.
Here, he found the Sons of Horus huddled in a dilapidated sanctuary, their expressions sorrowful and their eyes vacant. They barely moved at his approach. Their armor was riddled with cracks, their former pride long since replaced by pain and confusion brought on by Horus's death. When Abaddon's gaze swept over them, his eyes blazed with uncontrollable rage.
He stood directly on the high platform. He did not speak immediately. Instead, he moved deliberately, his hands rising to tie back his loose hair, a command through gesture alone, forcing attention.
Then, facing his former comrades, he roared. "OPEN YOUR EYES AND LOOK WHAT YOU HAVE BECOME!"
"Have you forgotten your former glory?! One defeat and you have given up completely?! We will have our revenge!!!"
"Let the Imperium feel our WRATH!!"
His voice thundered through every corner of the square. The silent Sons of Horus raised their heads, and a flicker of unease and hope began to appear in their eyes.
"Our father, Horus, led us to show the universe what great ambition truly is! His failure is not our end, but our beginning! His legacy still flows in your veins, and in your hands, you still hold the power to make the galaxy tremble!"
Abaddon stretched out his hand, raising the Talon of Horus high. The power of Chaos surged across the claw blade, forming a burning runic glow that lit the square with eldritch fire.
"From this day forward, we will no longer lament our defeats. We will rebuild our glory!"
"Bearing a brand new mission, we will be reborn with a new identity!"
"The Black Legion! A legion that lives in the name of victory!"
Abaddon's every word struck like a hammer blow into the hearts of every warrior, igniting the long-buried anger and pride within them. The Sons of Horus slowly rose to their feet, their gazes hardening, their armor seeming to be revitalized by the chaotic light.
At the end of the square, the banner of the Black Legion was raised high, its pitch-black surface fluttering in the daemonic wind.
"Abaddon!"
"Abaddon!!"
"Abaddon!!!"
The Sons of Horus chanted Abaddon's name, their shouts resounding throughout the city. At this moment, the shadow of defeat was dispelled, and a new Chaos Legion was born from the ruins.
In the days that followed, Abaddon recruited disparate warbands, traitors from the former Imperium, and even daemons from the Four Gods' factions, integrating these loose forces into the Black Legion's ranks.
Their fleet gradually expanded, and their arsenal became full. The Black Legion refined its tactics in every battle, forging a flexible yet brutal fighting force through plunder, torture, and experimentation. Their warriors inscribed the legacy of Horus on their armor and painted it black, symbolizing the unity of chaotic will.
To solidify the Black Legion's position within the Traitor forces, Abaddon turned his blade against the warband led by Death Guard Thagus Daravek.
On the orbit of a corrupted planet, the Black Legion's fleet engaged in fierce combat with the Death Guard's plague ships. Macro-cannons and plague weapons intertwined to create a symphony of destruction as countless vessels exploded in the dark vacuum.
As the battlefield shifted from orbital space to the surface, Abaddon personally led the Black Legion onto the planet's ground to face Daravek in direct confrontation. In the heart of the battlefield, Abaddon and Thagus Daravek met face to face.
Daravek wielded a massive plague scythe, his armor oozing foul, putrid liquid. Abaddon brandished the Talon of Horus, charging toward his opponent like a storm of wrath.
"Daravek!" Abaddon roared. "You are nothing but a servant of decay, while I am the conqueror of the galaxy! If you surrender, I can spare your life!"
His voice shook the entire battlefield.
Daravek was not to be outdone. He let out a low, disgusting laugh. "Hehe... My father is still alive!"
At those words, Abaddon felt himself engulfed in boundless rage. He brandished the Talon of Horus, roaring madly.
"Damn it! You have already chosen your path to death!!!"
"I will kill you!!"
The two clashed instantly. The plague scythe and Talon collided, unleashing shockwaves of psionic and corrosive power. Each impact was accompanied by a deafening roar, tearing the ground into huge cracks while spores and venom splattered into the sky.
"The power of the Grandfather is beyond your imagination!!" Daravek snarled.
"You are nothing but a pretentious fool!" Abaddon spat.
Daravek roared and swung his plague scythe, unleashing a corrosive energy beam at Abaddon. However, as the energy beam approached its target, Abaddon dodged with a cold smile, pivoting sharply with economical precision.
At that moment, Iskandar Khayon stood in the distance, his hands raised high. Psionic light blazed on the battlefield like a sun given form, releasing a wave of energy that struck deep into Thagus's soul. This attack shattered the bond between Daravek and Nurgle, the source of his power.
Abaddon seized the moment. He roared as he charged toward Daravek, plunging the Talon of Horus into the opponent's chest.
"Aaaaaah!! You are despicable!!" Daravek screamed in rage and agony.
"I refuse to accept this!!"
Daravek attempted to fight back, but his power was being torn apart by psionic energy. Intestines spilled across the scorched earth.
"Heh! In this world, power is all that matters," Abaddon growled, his blade twisting without mercy. "I am busy conquering the galaxy. I have no time for a fair duel with you!"
However, at that very moment, a Chaos beast crashed through the combat zone and escaped with Daravek's body. Seeing this, the Death Guard forces quickly fled the field.
Abaddon stood alone on the charred ruins, raising the Talon of Horus and roaring at all the warriors of the Black Legion. His body remained rigid, towering over the devastation like a monument to victory.
"Victory!! This is the victory of the Black Legion!!"
"We are an invincible legion, and now we must strike while the iron is hot! Let the Imperium know how powerful we are!!"
"Let us break free from the Eye of Terror and teach the Imperium a lesson!!"
Upon hearing this, all the warriors of the Black Legion roared in answer. "Slay the false Emperor! Rebuild the legion's glory!!!"
"Destroy the Imperium, and the galaxy will belong to us!!"
"Aaaaaah!!!"
Abaddon, leading the newly integrated Black Legion, emerged from the depths of the Eye of Terror aboard countless warships.
His plan was simple: he would destroy several Imperial worlds using a thunderous offensive to announce the return of the Black Legion to the entire galaxy.
The void beyond the Eye of Terror was like a twisted abyss, the Black Legion's warships passing through the warp rifts one after another. Shattered light flashed behind the fleet like fragments of broken worlds.
The Vengeful Spirit was positioned in the center of the fleet, with Abaddon standing on the command platform surrounded by his trusted lieutenants. Falkus, Khayon, and others stood in their positions, awaiting the impending victory.
"This is our path of revenge," Abaddon sneered, his gaze fixed on the distant void. "Let them tremble."
The Black Legion's drop pods, like burning meteors, tore through the sky and crashed onto the surface of a barren planet. Dust rose from the desolate land, and a fierce wind carried the scent of scorched earth, accompanied by the tremors of destruction.
Abaddon stepped out of the drop pod, his entire body covered in heavy armor. His cloak billowed in the wind, and the Talon of Horus, inlaid with chaotic runes, gleamed coldly in the twilight of the battlefield.
Then a dazzling golden light rose from the enemy's position.
The golden light was as dazzling as the blazing sun, causing the chaotic shadows to recede in an instant. All the warriors of the Black Legion stopped in their tracks, their gazes forced to focus on the golden figure that now dominated the field.
"I am Rogal Dorn!" the figure proclaimed, his voice carrying the weight of a Primarch's authority. "Surrender! It is all over!"
Rogal Dorn, Praetorian of Terra and Primarch of the Imperial Fists, stood atop a high platform overlooking the Imperial army. His armor shone with unblemished brilliance, a beacon of the Emperor's light against the encroaching darkness.
Behind him, ranks of golden-armored Imperial Fists held position, their bolters tracking the Black Legion's advance.
Abaddon's jaw clenched. He had expected scattered PDF forces, perhaps a token garrison. Not this. Not a Primarch.
The weight of centuries seemed to press down on the battlefield. The Sons of Horus, no, the Black Legion now, had faced Dorn before. At the Siege. In the killing fields of Terra itself. That memory hung heavy.
"Withdraw," Falkus muttered through the vox, barely audible. "We're not prepared for, "
"No." Abaddon's voice cut through like a blade. His fingers flexed around the Talon. "We do not run. Not anymore."
But even as he spoke, tactical reality crystallized with brutal clarity. A Primarch. Imperial Fists in full strength.
His Black Legion, still raw, still reforming from the broken remnants of the XVI. This was not the battle he'd planned. This was a slaughter waiting to happen.
Abaddon: "..."
Black Legion: "..."
[End of Chapter]
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