Cold, ruthless welding sounds rang out, and electricity and fire completely sealed the Hellbrute, as an unbearable darkness swallowed everything.
Steel pierced muscle, metal stabbed nerves, tentacles licked the brain, and the soul shattered within this coffin, as flesh and metal began to fuse.
Abaddon opened his mouth, letting out a silent yet sharp wail,
But no one could hear this sound anymore.
Vashtorr calmly watched the Abaddon-class Hellbrute activate after its wetware implantation, as boundless Chaos energy surged out from it, injecting into the body of this terrifying machine.
That was the blessing of the Chaos Gods bestowed upon Abaddon, but that was not the key.
More importantly, it was the blow with which Horus killed Sanguinius, a blow that contained the supreme power of the Gods, directly piercing through space-time and fate, tearing apart Sanguinius' essence, and then being continuously nourished by the millennia of remembrance of all living beings in the galaxy. The power contained in this single blow was hundreds, even thousands, of times greater than the blessing the Gods gave Abaddon.
On Ice Moon Krassus, Sanguinius extended a portion of his wound onto Abaddon, directly overwhelming him and almost turning him into a cripple.
Now, Vashtorr, through a series of ingenious techniques, extracted the power from that wound and the blessing of the Gods within Abaddon, injecting them both into this Hellbrute, which embodied the wisdom of Vashtorr and Perturabo.
A sharp, frenzied roar burst forth from within the Abaddon Hellbrute, and the flesh on its body instantly writhed and mutated. The terrifying Chaos energy even made its already much larger body, compared to an ordinary Hellbrute, appear to swell further.
"Traitor! traitor! traitor!!!"
A black hurricane howled, instantly knocking over the Iron Warriors closest to the Hellbrute. Their Power Armor instantly twisted and deformed, and the Astartes inside were directly shattered into a paste.
Vashtorr's metallic wings behind him trembled, and he retreated more than ten meters in an instant.
But almost in the blink of an eye, Abaddon, wielding the modified Horus' Claw, had reached him, its sharp claws directly approaching Vashtorr's face.
Vashtorr didn't even have time to defend himself—
Perturabo's speed was equally swift; his body, like an iron wall, directly slammed into the Abaddon Hellbrute.
Abaddon staggered a few steps from the impact, retreating repeatedly.
But even so, he still relied on his combat instincts, swinging the hand that was not equipped with a weapon, and smashing it towards Perturabo's face.
Perturabo raised a massive iron hand to block.
A strong metallic wail came from Perturabo's arm.
Vashtorr nodded slightly, extremely satisfied.
The power displayed by the Abaddon Hellbrute met his expectations.
Then, with a thought, Vashtorr's will sharply pierced into the Hellbrute's body, burrowing between the steel and flesh.
In an instant, Abaddon's frenzied and hateful will was suppressed by Vashtorr.
This was Vashtorr's authority, the power of the Malicious Art domain.
It was even more impossible for the Hellbrute, which he himself had created, to defy his will.
Abaddon struggled fiercely a few times, but ultimately to no avail; under Vashtorr's control, he retreated to his original position, within the circle formed by the eight surrounding daemons.
Vashtorr chanted incantations in a low voice. These incantations came directly from the Book of Lorgar, the enchantment techniques Lorgar had taught Abaddon and Khayon in the past.
Vashtorr directly modified this technique, integrating it with his own.
Under the effect of the incantations, the seven daemons, bound by the contract Vashtorr had signed, let out low growls.
Poppy, Penicillin, Hun, Pyramid Scheme, Maxim, Ten plagues, and the Unspeakable One—seven daemons closely related to humanity.
Ecstatic Perception, Corrupt Decay, Mindless Slaughter, Hellstorm, Malicious Art, Greedy Dissolution, and Indefinite Distortion—seven great positions in the Warp.
The seven daemons dissolved almost simultaneously, merging with the Abaddon Hellbrute, burrowing into the positions within it that had been prepared for them.
The eight-pointed star of blackstone engraved on the Hellbrute's torso instantly burst forth with seven different colored lights. Blackstone can both suppress and amplify Warp energy, depending entirely on its polarity.
This creation of the Void Dragon was indeed valuable, and Vashtorr installed it on the Hellbrute to suppress the ripples generated when the seven domains clashed.
The Hellbrute, under Vashtorr's control, slowly crouched down and picked up the demon sword on the ground, which glowed with an ethereal blue light.
That was the demon drach'nyen, born from humanity's first murder. It was sealed by the Emperor and transformed into a demon sword.
And it happened to belong to the domain of Corrosive Destruction, which is the domain of the Dark King, and also the domain currently vacant in the Hellbrute.
On the eight-pointed star, the corner symbolizing Corrosive Destruction burst forth with an extremely bright radiance, as if drach'nyen's power and contribution were the greatest among the eight daemons.
But a thought swept through Vashtorr, and he perceived that drach'nyen was merely putting on an act. He was clearly the most powerful of the eight daemons; even the strongest of the seven Greater Daemons, Penicillin, was far inferior to drach'nyen.
But drach'nyen's effort was even less than that of the weakest Pyramid Scheme and Ten plagues.
"If you are willing to serve me with all your might, I will find a way to lift the Emperor's restraint on you, freeing you from the form of a sword," Vashtorr said, looking at drach'nyen.
drach'nyen was silent for half a second.
"Actually, being a sword is quite nice," he replied to Vashtorr.
Vashtorr was momentarily stunned.
But he also had no way to force drach'nyen to cooperate. Not to mention that this was not Vashtorr's style, even if he were to use forceful means—
drach'nyen's power was extraordinary, and it was closely related to the birth of that Dark King. Its current stance was even more ambiguous.
Vashtorr had always suspected that drach'nyen was actually the Dark King's fishhook. To be cautious, he decided not to bite.
Almost at the same time, Vashtorr perceived that Tzeentch's final payment had arrived.
According to the contract between Tzeentch and Vashtorr, Vashtorr would come to Corinal to help the Red Angel, but regardless of whether the Red Angel succeeded, Tzeentch would pay a large amount of Caliban fragments as compensation.
These fragments fell into the Soul Forge, and with the fragments Abaddon had collected earlier, they were almost enough for Vashtorr to recreate the ancient artifact, the ouroboros.
But... it was too smooth. Was Tzeentch really so honest? So committed to the contract?
Although the so-called "Chaos Law" was born in the Warp amidst the clashes of the Gods, Tzeentch was a sorcerer. The other three Gods might adhere to this law to some extent, but Tzeentch would only distort it.
Considering that Tzeentch promised to pay regardless of whether the Red Angel succeeded, Vashtorr easily concluded that the Red Angel was merely a tool for Tzeentch to conceal his true purpose; success or failure was not important.
So why specifically Vashtorr's help? What was Tzeentch's purpose?
If it was just to buy time, Tzeentch himself wasn't without Primarchs; what was Magnus for?
Several points of light flashed in Vashtorr's orange-yellow eyes.
Within the Soul Forge, Vashtorr, like a mist of thought, scanned dozens of time points, finally settling his gaze gently on the near future, in a sector called Nephilim.
The reason he stopped there was not because Vashtorr saw something, but because Vashtorr saw nothing at all.
It was a deep, completely Warp-isolated dead zone... but precisely within it, Vashtorr felt the summoning of the Malicious Art domain.
"Is this the spiderweb you've woven?"
"Am I a small insect fallen into the web, or one of the spiders you've arranged?"
But even knowing it was a spiderweb, as long as it was beneficial to his ascension, Vashtorr would step into it.
Because he was truly curious, curious since the day he was born, curious every moment.
Curious what truth he would see in that position? What creations he would make? Could he break free from all limitations and pursue knowledge and creation freely?
To satisfy this curiosity, Vashtorr was willing to be a spider in Tzeentch's hand.
On the former Sorcerers' Planet, now the Steroid Planet,
"That's enough for today! You've practiced very well! But remember to rest!" Magnus, whose body was all crimson muscle, clapped his hands and said to the Thousand Sons sorcerers and Thousand Sons who were exercising.
Ahriman picked up a towel and wiped the sweat from his body, looking somewhat puzzled as his genefather walked into the lounge after the gym.
It wasn't that this behavior was strange; after all, Ahriman himself would occasionally go to the lounge to rest and talk with his father.
What truly puzzled Ahriman was that his genefather's workout sessions had become increasingly short recently, as if he had something on his mind.
Could it be that that bastard Tzeentch was brewing another conspiracy? A conspiracy against Magnus?
Ahriman's alarm bells rang loudly in his heart.
He couldn't help but begin to ponder whether to inform Saint Doraemon of this situation.
But Ahriman also suspected that this matter might be a hook Tzeentch was using to bait Saint Doraemon.
After all, Tzeentch had very strong control over Magnus. If he wanted Magnus to do something, there would be no need for schemes or to be so secretive.
Ahriman was somewhat worried that Saint Doraemon might be tricked by Tzeentch, as the hope for the Thousand Sons' resurrection rested entirely on him, and even Magnus' true liberation from Tzeentch's control also depended on Saint Doraemon.
"What should I do?" Ahriman pondered, lowering his head.
"Master! There's something on the observation array!" shouted Jamshid, Ahriman's former student and one of the resurrected Thousand Sons.
This was one of the projects Ahriman was working on for Alexander: an observation array for monitoring the flow of Warp tides. As compensation, Saint Doraemon would resurrect one Thousand Son for Ahriman each year. Over several decades, dozens of Thousand Sons had been resurrected this way.
Of course, this was just one of the work projects; other projects were also running, and cumulatively, over five hundred Thousand Sons had been resurrected. Although this was still a drop in the ocean compared to the entire legion of the past, Ahriman had already seen hope.
So when he heard that there was a problem with the observation array, Ahriman quickly went to it, frowning as he observed the flow of the Warp tides.
The omnipresent Warp tides actually showed a black spot, a void... corresponding roughly to the Nephilim sector in reality.
Ahriman precisely performed several divinations, vaguely receiving a few short syllables in the Warp.
"..Cursed... Founding...?"