Abaddon let out the loudest shriek of his life.
Even on Davine, when he was carrying the dying Horus, he had never been so terrified.
"What are you doing! What are you doing?!"
"Vashtorr!! What are you doing!!"
"What is this thing!! Don't let me get near it!!!"
Vashtorr turned his head, his orange-red eyes, like furnace fires, twisting slightly as he looked at Abaddon in the stasis pod, as if he had been waiting for Abaddon to ask that very question.
"These are the strongest among the daemons who have signed contracts with me, conveniently belonging to seven of the eight points of the Warp and closely related to the human species."
"Hunger, addiction. Humans once madly consumed a crude addictive drug called opium. They suffered, struggled, craved, found pleasure, and indulged because of it. From these emotions, it was born: the Demon Poppy of the Ecstatic Perception Domain."
"Disease, life. Humans once discovered the first antibiotic among molds. This antibiotic saved countless lives from infection. Their craving for medicine, life, and antibacterial properties gave birth to it: the Demon Penicillin of the Corrupt Decay Domain."
"Slaughter, bloodlust. In the early stages of human civilization, nomadic and agricultural civilizations always slaughtered each other. In this cycle of slaughter, countless nomadic tribes rose. It was born from all the killing and being killed wrought by one nomadic tribe: the Demon Hun of the Heartless Slaughter Domain."
"Deceit, fraud. Humans are one of the most adept races at deception. They used geometric progression as a cover to create a pyramid scheme that continuously expanded its downline to defraud wealth. Countless people struggled and fell into this scam. From this emotion, it was born: the Demon Pyramid Scheme of the Hellstorm Domain."
"Destruction, efficiency. Human skill in weapon manufacturing is commendable. In the matter of creating weapons to destroy their own kind, they possess extraordinary talent. From the dawn of civilization, they created automated killing devices. It was born from the first automatic weapon created by humans: the Demon Maxim of the Malicious Art Domain."
"Hunger, gluttony. No civilization can escape the two curses of greed and hunger. In early humanity, a race known for its greed created a terrifying myth about hunger. In this terrifying myth, their god humiliated a civilization with ten plagues. From the emotions born of this myth, it was born: the Demon Ten plagues of the Greedy Dissolution Domain."
"Unnameable, unknowable. When humanity entered its first Golden Age, believing that science and wisdom could unlock all mysteries, a somber science fiction author realized that human wisdom was insignificant before the vast cosmos. His pen unearthed humanity's most primal fear of the unknown and gave birth to this demon: the Unnameable Demon of the Formless Distortion Domain."
Vashtorr introduced the seven daemons with a rather passionate and spirited tone, finally pointing his hand towards the Demon Sword Drach'nyen, which stood alongside the seven daemons:
"Destruction, self-destruction. In the swaying wheat fields, kin killed kin. Humans committed the first murder with an obsidian dagger. In this cruel murder, it, the Demon drach'nyen of the Erosion and Destruction Domain, was born."
"Eight domains, eight daemons, an eight-pointed star. The eight most massive domains in Chaos converge here. I shall use this to accomplish a grand creation."
"I! Ask! You! What! Is! That?!" Abaddon roared, unable to contain himself. He had been trying to interrupt Vashtorr all along, but Vashtorr had completely ignored him, introducing those daemons that Abaddon didn't care about.
All he ever cared about was the mechanical construct surrounded by the eight daemons.
Though called a mechanical construct, the thing looked more like a hybrid of demon, flesh, and metal. Black metal armor was attached to gooey crimson flesh, and on each plate of armor, the screaming, wailing faces of daemons emerged. These metal plates formed a bulky, humanoid figure, six or seven meters tall.
Its mechanical torso was massive, like a horizontal iron coffin. The iron coffin was inscribed with a Chaos eight-pointed star forged from blackstone, and around the iron coffin were attached thick limbs, each a combination of flesh and metal.
Its left hand was particularly massive, almost as tall as an Astartes in Terminator power armor, and mounted on it was a noticeably enlarged Horus' Claw.
Its right hand was relatively simple, resembling a human hand, but wider than even a Primarch's palm. Its fingers were designed with many rough patterns, seemingly for gripping weapons.
And its "head" was located in the center of the torso, recessed inward, forming a hollow, pitch-black space where countless metal cables and fleshy tentacles writhed, seemingly waiting for some unlucky soul to be buried within.
"Tell me! Vashtorr! What is this?! What is this!!"
Vashtorr turned his head and said, "This is a healing tool we'll be using later."
Abaddon was stunned by Vashtorr's shamelessness.
"This is a fucking Hellbrute!!! A Hellbrute!!"
Abaddon roared:
"What do you want to do to me! Are you mad!!?!"
Although much larger, there was no doubt that this was a Hellbrute.
Hellbrutes are a unique Chaos equivalent to Dreadnoughts, but they are far more ferocious, terrifying, and insane than Dreadnoughts.
And the fate of the Space Marine buried within is hundreds or thousands of times more tragic than that of a Dreadnought.
Their flesh merges with that damned metal cage, their souls are cruelly tortured by the daemons residing within the Hellbrute, and they wail and roar in eternal gloom until they go completely mad.
Abaddon once deeply agreed with a Dark Mechanicum's assessment:
Hellbrutes are pure hatred, the most potent weapon in the galaxy, and this is why we shall surely destroy the Imperium: their hatred cannot compare to ours.
And the Hellbrute is the embodiment of this pure hatred, one of the Black Legion's most powerful weapons. The Chaos Astartes buried in Hellbrutes—even if they are not willing—still make a noble sacrifice, transforming themselves into a hammer to strike at the heart of the Imperium.
That being said, if Abaddon himself were to be buried in a Hellbrute, he would rather die.
"The Hellbrute is my tool to heal you."
Vashtorr calmly said to Abaddon:
"Once you are interred within the Hellbrute, you can stand again, unleash your power without hindrance, return to the battlefield, and become an almost unrivaled weapon of war."
"Haven't you always yearned for revenge against the Emperor and the Imperium? This is your best chance!"
As his words fell, the Iron Warriors lifted the stasis pod and walked towards the Hellbrute.
"You can't do this! I forbid it! I forbid it!" The broken Abaddon was powerless to resist, only able to wail and shriek in protest.
"Of course I can! Have you forgotten the contract you signed?"
"Article 138 states: Vashtorr is obligated to treat Warmaster Abaddon's current and future injuries in the manner it deems best, to ensure Abaddon is in optimal condition to fulfill his obligation to help Vashtorr collect key fragments."
"And sub-clause 6 of Article 138 states: 'The best manner as deemed by Vashtorr' means Vashtorr has the right to choose any technology it deems suitable, and to guarantee Abaddon the efficiency and advanced nature of said technology."
A smile appeared on Vashtorr's lips:
"This is what I consider the most suitable technology."
"And I guarantee you, this technology is absolutely efficient and advanced."
"This Hellbrute itself is one of the most exquisite designs I've ever made, with Perturabo's technical involvement. Once you are implanted within it, you can maximize the blessings the gods have bestowed upon you and the power from the wound on your chest. You can even command it to take down a Castellan-class Knight or even a Warhound-class Titan."
"Even more ingeniously, I will use a technique improved from Lorgar's enchantment to transform this Hellbrute into a mighty daemon Engine. The eight daemons of the eight domains will be fused within the Hellbrute, becoming your power. This aligns with the Chaos eight-pointed star; the power within it is beyond your imagination."
"What more do you have to complain about? Have I violated our contract in any way?"
"..You lied to me!!" Abaddon's eyes widened, trembling madly in the stasis pod from anger and fear.
"There isn't a single word of fraud in my contract. Before you signed it, you had the right to carefully read every clause and raise objections."
Vashtorr calmly directed the Iron Warriors to place the stasis pod in front of the Hellbrute.
Then, Vashtorr sighed softly and said:
"But why do you always fail to read contracts properly?"
"And in the end, you still blame me for deceiving you."
Saying this, Vashtorr opened the stasis pod and extended his sharp fingers towards Abaddon.
"Don't come near me!!!"
"Go away! Go away!!"
Abaddon twisted his mutilated body in terror, but it was useless.
Vashtorr's sharp claws gripped Abaddon's skinless face, pulling him from the stasis pod.
The Creator gently vibrated his metallic wings, dragging Abaddon to the pitch-black opening at the center of the Hellbrute's torso.
The steel cables and fleshy tentacles within the opening writhed excitedly, as if impatiently eager to devour Abaddon.
"No! No! Vashtorr! You can't!!"
Abaddon struggled in fear, letting out a weak shriek:
"I am the Chaos Warmaster, I am the Master of the Black Legion, I am the First Captain of the Horus' Sons, I am the Despoiler! You cannot do this, you must not do this!"
"No! Don't put me in this coffin! Vashtorr! Stop! Stop!"
Abaddon struggled so forcefully that Vashtorr had to summon several Iron Warriors to hold him down and push him little by little into the Hellbrute.
"How dare you! You cannot! I am your Warmaster!"
"You traitors! Scum! I curse you! I curse you, you vile traitors!"
"Traitors! traitors!! traitors!!!"
"Gods... Gods! I am the Gods' Chosen! The Gods will not allow you to do this!"
"Gods save me! Gods curse you!"
"Blood for the Blood God, skulls for the Skull Throne!"
"Only Tzeentch, be not ensnared!"
"All things decay, life endures!"
"Six circles of extreme desire, desire and craving!"
"Blood God! Nurgle! Lord of Change! Dark Prince! I will be your slave! Save me! Save your slave!"
"Father! Father! Horus! Save your son! I beg you!!"
Cold metal pierced Abaddon's flesh, and viscous tentacles drilled into his temples, licking his brain.
"Emperor! God-Emperor on High! God-Emperor on High! I repent!"
"I repent! Forgive me! Forgive me! Save me! Save me!"
"Kill me! God-Emperor! Quickly kill me!!!"
"No!!!"