"Dad! Listen to me carefully!"
"I have four brilliant strategies to break Cadia, open the Crimson Path, destroy the Empire, conquer Terra, and seize the Emperor's bird-throne!"
"Strategy One: Attack the heart. I shall order my beloved brother and lieutenant, Khayon, to sever his own psychic powers and enter Terra empty-handed to surrender to the Inquisition. This will herald the arrival of my Crimson Path, terrifying those vermin High Lords of Terra so they cannot rest by day or sleep by night, drowning in constant exhaustion and dread. To win without fighting—the day I destroy Terra shall be the day I reunite with my brother Khayon."
"Strategy Two: Attack the fortress. I have led twelve Black Crusades, victorious in every one, winning again and again. Now, with the Thirteenth Black Crusade, I attack Cadia once more. A victorious army is bound to be arrogant, an arrogant army is bound to fail, a failing army is bound to wither, and a withered army is bound to win! My initial slump at Cadia was the 'Arrogant Army Failing'; my mid-stage entrapment was the 'Failing Army becoming Arrogant'; and my late-stage reversal is the 'Withered Army Winning'!"
"Strategy Three: Attack the stars. I have obtained the artifact Blackstone Fortress. None know who forged it, why it was forged, or where it was once used. I simply saw that when its ramparts interlaced, it resembled the Chaos Star. I loved it so, and seeing its hull was solid, indestructible, and as massive as an asteroid, a brilliant plan struck me: to use the Blackstone Fortress as a battering ram! Indeed, one strike shattered Cadia, revealing the true might of the artifact!"
"Dad! With these five strategies of mine, destroying the Empire and killing the Emperor is as easy as turning over a hand!"
"Congratulations, Dad! You can become Emperor!"
"Dad! Do you think I can inherit your legacy and be called the 'Great-Legacy'?"
Horus reached out and rubbed his temples. Originally, after being restrained and adjusted, Abaddon was almost silent, like a buried statue that had lost all control over its body. But in these past few hours, Horus couldn't help but confide in the silent Abaddon, pouring out his thoughts. Gradually, changes appeared in Abaddon—it was as if Horus's words had awakened a part of Abaddon's will, allowing him to resist the daemons. Abaddon's body was still being fought over by eight chaotic daemons, but Abaddon had reclaimed the lead of the microphone.
Now that he could speak, Horus didn't want to confide in him at all. Instead, Abaddon babbled incessantly with crazed words.
"Dad! My six brilliant strategies are flawless!"
"Unless some Archmagos of the Adeptus Mechanicus escaped the fall of Cadia, and this Archmagos happened to have lived for ten thousand years, was assigned by Roboute Guilliman to resurrect him, and had already crafted armor capable of healing him. And it just so happens that a planet near Cadia has a Webway gate, and a group of Eldar just happened to open that Webway to take the Archmagos to Macragge."
"Even more coincidentally, that Archmagos is accompanied by someone or something with the power of the God of Death. But even then, it doesn't matter. Based on my knowledge of the Empire, Calgar, the Chapter Master of the Ultramarines, is a serious and cautious man. How could he allow an Archmagos bringing xenos and dangerous figures near Guilliman? Even if allowed near, Calgar would never permit them to use the power of the Death God to kill Guilliman... Hahaha, Calgar isn't an idiot. Who would fall for such a stupid lie as using the power of an evil god to resurrect one's father!"
"Could it be that my Black Legion just happened to invade Macragge at that moment, dropping from the sky into the Temple of Correction to tie down Calgar, giving them the chance to succeed... Hahaha, how could it be such a coincidence!"
"It won't be that way! I didn't lose! Dad! I, Abaddon, didn't lose!"
Listening to Abaddon's delusional voice, Horus couldn't help but sigh. At that moment, footsteps sounded behind him.
The footsteps were crisp, firm yet ethereal—like a ghost, a wraith, a monarch, a general, a sage.
"Adonai, my Lord, the ritual is essentially woven. My scions have all sworn to serve Abaddon as their master, symbolically becoming members of the Black Legion, strengthening Abaddon's nature as the representative of all Chaos Astartes."
Lorgar's voice interfered with Horus's listening.
The girl had never revealed her name, just as the Emperor always called Himself the Emperor. The true name 'Adonai' was a title from ancient Terran religious scriptures, discovered by Lorgar to address the girl. In ancient times, servants called masters, and wives called husbands by this term. It was also used for gods; its meaning implied honoring God as a servant honors a master, and loving God as a wife loves a husband—where the self no longer belongs to the self, but to God. Horus loathed Lorgar's use of the term, both because it degraded his dignity and because Lorgar likened his love for God to a wife's love for a husband.
"Gwah! Such a beautiful and divine being! Dad, you must catch her and bring her into the Pantheon—"
BOOM!!!!
Horus smashed his fist into the metal body of the Abaddon-Helbrute, cutting off the nonsense.
But the girl's hollow eyes still moved toward Horus.
+He is speaking.++Abaddon's will has recovered to a certain extent.++You have spoken with him too much.+
This made Horus's heart tighten. "Does it affect the ritual? If so, you should have told me earlier."
+Not much. It is just a slight awakening of his will; it may bring trouble.++Fortunately, the body is still under the control of the daemons. He has only reclaimed a bit of the ability to speak.+
The girl remained indifferent.
Horus felt the blood flow in his heart become sluggish. A sense of nausea echoed inexplicably in his throat, but he couldn't say where it came from. When he tried to feel it again, it vanished without a trace, as if it were merely a hallucination.
"He is my son," Horus said. "Of course I want to talk to him more."
The girl looked at Horus, her hollow eyes drooping slightly. +Oh. That is your right.+
There was no condemnation, but Horus couldn't help but clench his teeth. No, that wasn't how she should answer. How would the Emperor have answered? The Emperor would surely have condemned Horus and told him: For the greater cause, for the benefit of humanity, sometimes father-son sentiment must give way.
When the Emperor spoke like that, Horus understood that He still had the feelings of a father and son, only clumsily hiding them for the sake of something greater. But the girl neither condemned nor told him that. It showed she simply didn't care; father-son sentiment didn't exist in her heart at all. She was just... just pacifying Horus.
Looking at the girl, Horus felt his skin crawl.
"Brother, she is God," Lorgar patted Horus's broad shoulder gently.
Yes, she was God. Horus's sense of dread receded slightly. The Emperor was different from before; she was a god, not the god who once walked among men. This was a mistake Horus himself had made.
+Let him pray to Alexander.+
The girl's hollow eyes turned toward Abaddon.
Horus nodded slightly. "Abaddon, my son, I need you to pray to Saint Doraemon." "You must represent all Chaos Astartes, represent the lost and the cursed, even represent Chaos itself to believe in him." "You must pray sincerely and earnestly."
"..." Abaddon actually fell silent.
He seemed to be thinking, pondering something. "I have a request!" Abaddon spoke.
Horus exhaled. "Fine. I agree. You've inherited my legacy. You are now my..."
"I want to ask... can you forgive me?" Abaddon interrupted Horus.
Horus's mouth opened slightly, a flicker of panic crossing his face. "I do not blame you for the mistakes of these ten thousand years; they were but the continuation of my own errors!" "Abaddon, do you... do you want me to forgive you for sending me into the temple on Davin?" "I forgive you for that too. I truly do not want to blame you; the Gods, Erebus, and I myself should all be held responsible..."
"Everything, Father," Abaddon's voice echoed heavily from the Helbrute. "I hope you can forgive me for everything I have done."
Horus fell silent. He gently placed his hand on the casket lid, which was full of pain and torture. "I... I didn't intend for it to turn out like this at first. But once I started acting, once I took that first step, it was like falling into a bottomless abyss, falling, falling, falling..."
Abaddon's voice inside the casket was fragmented, but the bond between father and son allowed Horus to understand him.
"In the pain and torture, in the gaps of madness and loss of control, my mind has never been this clear. In those most chaotic corners, the Gods and Fate cannot interfere with my thoughts... for the first time in my life." "You may think I am completely mad, but I have indeed found a bit of sobriety within the madness... Do you still remember your expectations for the Mournival?"
"You were the soul of the Legion, the four personalities and traits of the Legion," Horus's fingers tightened. "And my own personalities and traits." "Torgaddon was Sanguine—from my heart, hot-blooded, social, open, and lively." "Aximand was Melancholic—from my stomach, suspicious, sensitive, moody, and hesitant." "You were Choleric—from my liver, short-tempered, violent, and as swift as a raging fire." "Loken was Phlegmatic—from my brain, calm, rational, steady, and self-restrained."
"You and the part of me in the Legion's soul became too much of the others, and too little of Loken," Abaddon's voice came from the coffin. "So I beg you to forgive me for everything I have done, and then... then promise me, this time, you are acting because of the 'Loken' part."
Horus remained silent for a long while. Under the girl's gaze, he finally opened his mouth. "I forgive. I promise."
"..."
The voice in the coffin went silent for a moment. Then, a fragmented but sincere prayer began—a prayer directed at Saint Doraemon. Similar prayers began to rise from outside the tower; the Word Bearers were also offering prayers to Saint Doraemon.
The eight daemons in Abaddon's coffin let out piercing shrieks. They contradicted, merged, clashed, separated, and collided. The intense faith of the Word Bearers gathered, pouring into their bodies to grant them flesh.
Bright red poppies grew out; vines, flowers, and limbs withered by addiction combined to form a daemon wreathed in a strange fragrance, struggling out of Abaddon's body and screaming toward the southeast. A rotten melon burst; blood, organs, and mycelium-covered flesh grew to form a daemon that repelled everything around it, waving its arms as it crawled toward the southwest.
Blood flowed; hooves emerged from the metal shell of the Helbrute, stepping onto the earth to form a centaur-like daemon, drawing a bow as it crawled toward the northwest. Deceptive laughter, circling coins and notes, and stacked pyramids intertwined; illusion and fraud formed a blue-feathered daemon, giggling as it crawled toward the northeast.
Ammo belts spat out, and black barrels gave them form—a daemon like black iron crawling on the ground, dragging itself toward the east. Locusts, frogs, bloody water, dead livestock, falling hail, and buzzing flies merged to form a daemon writhing out toward the south.
Like a shadow, an angle, a beast, darkness, an octopus, the deep sea—a daemon composed of non-Euclidean geometry twitched out toward the west. Finally, the flames of murder were lit, and a daemon shaped like a primitive warlord emerged from Abaddon's body, holding a ritual blade of obsidian, walking step by step toward the north.
The ends of their bodies were still anchored within Abaddon. Their emerging bodies, crawling in eight directions, were like eight arrows forming a twisted, hideous Eight-Pointed Star.
Chaos. Chaos itself was manifesting here.
Abaddon was like the representative of the entire Warp. Deceptive, wicked laughter, obscene moans of decadence, and bloodthirsty, frenzied war cries rang out simultaneously. The Three Divinities were watching; to split Alexander and make him fall into Chaos, they were willing to cooperate with the girl, contributing their own power to increase Abaddon's weight as the representative of Chaos.
But the girl watched this scene calmly. A flicker of mockery and playfulness crossed her hollow eyes. +Horus, you asked me why I needed Lorgar?+
+I answer you now: I did not come here for Lorgar.+
+I came here for this ritual itself.+
+Do you know?+ the girl asked softly, questioning both Horus and the Gods.
+Alexander's Four-Dimensional Pocket can only connect to the Future Department Store when he 'himself' uses it.+
The wicked laughter, the obscene moans, and the bloodthirsty war cries fell silent at the same time.
The girl smiled and asked:
+So, what constitutes 'Alexander himself'?+