Chapter 85
The Thirteenth Black Crusade was beginning in earnest.
The Chaos fleet had pulled back after the Genesis appeared, merging with forces within the Eye of Terror to form an even greater armada. Its sheer size now dwarfed the Cadian navy several times over.
On the flagship at the heart of the fleet sat Abaddon the Despoiler, Warmaster of Chaos and supreme commander of the Black Crusade. Since Horus's death, none among the Traitor Legions stood higher—discounting the scattered Daemon Primarchs.
Encased in baroque Terminator armor, Abaddon radiated a power that echoed his gene-sire, Horus Lupercal. Once the First Captain of the Sons of Horus, he might not quite match a Primarch's might, but he was still far stronger than any mere Astartes.
His most recognizable feature wasn't the armor or even the daemon blade Drach'nyen in his grip—it was the long braid hanging from his bald scalp, a strange trademark that stood out even among the warlords of Chaos.
"My great expedition is about to begin."
Abaddon gazed out across the countless ships of the Traitor Host, the sight stirring memories of the Great Crusade ten millennia past. Now, he would launch his own crusade—against Terra itself.
Behind his fleet lumbered titanic weapons of war: the Blackstone Fortress and the Planet Killer. Each was larger and more devastating than any battleship, and they were his greatest assurances of victory.
This time, there would be no repeat of the Gothic War.
Cadia would burn.
The Thirteenth Black Crusade would erase that eternal thorn in the Dark Gods' side.
Of course, Warhammer fans would laugh at the number "thirteen." How loyal could Abaddon be? More than once, his bungling had "accidentally" spared Imperial forces.
After all, thirteen was the Emperor's number—the number of Guilliman's XIII Legion. And now Abaddon, in his so-called Thirteenth Black Crusade, was indirectly paving the way for Guilliman's return.
What color is loyalty, again?
Enough jokes.
The Chaos fleet pushed closer to Cadia. Though the planet was shielded by immense void shields against apocalyptic weapons, Abaddon intended to destroy it outright.
"Such an eyesore."
He crushed the throne's armrest with his Talon of Horus, fury burning in his eyes.
"Just the sight of that world makes me seethe."
"By my title as Warmaster of Chaos, Cadia will fall!"
Around Cadia, Imperial systems had already been cut off, harried into uselessness by the Traitor Host. This time, the four Gods had committed their legions. Chaos Titans marched in squadrons. Over a hundred lesser Knights were deployed.
Victory was inevitable. Or so Abaddon thought.
A lieutenant interrupted with grim tidings.
"Warmaster!"
"Speak."
"A planet has appeared beside Cadia. It emerged from the Warp. It's larger than Cadia itself."
Planets varied in size, of course, but this was no ordinary phenomenon.
"From the Warp?" Abaddon frowned, considering. For a moment he tried to trace its origin, then waved the thought away.
"No matter what it is, it cannot halt my Crusade."
The lieutenant hesitated.
"Also… Godzilla."
"Godzilla?" Abaddon turned sharply. The name meant nothing to him—yet when he heard it, a vague, towering silhouette flickered in the corner of his mind.
Something he knew, but could not name.
"I have a bad feeling."
"Oh-ho~~~."
Abaddon was right to feel ominous. After all, when have Chaos cultists ever not ruined their own plans?
Godzilla had been drawn into the depths of the Traitors' positions, yet no matter how they assailed him, he refused to fall. Worse—he was moving toward the Blackstone pylons.
"Idiots!" Erebus snarled. "Why lure him to the Blackstone Array?!"
One pylon had already been blasted apart, and cultists were busy planting charges on a second. To lure the kaiju here of all places—were they brain-dead?
Then again, who but the brain-dead would pledge themselves to Chaos in the first place?
Godzilla paused before the titanic structures, his gaze sweeping over the towering formations.
The Blackstone Array stretched across the land in geometric precision, monoliths lined up in Necron-like order, their pyramidal shapes unmistakable.
This is the Blackstone Array. Definitely Necron work.
The structures radiated a psychic null field. Warp energies recoiled from them, squeezed out of the surrounding space. It was similar to the null-zone aura of the Sisters of Silence.
These can't be destroyed. Not yet.
He understood their importance. If the pylons were dismantled, the Eye of Terror would engulf Cadia outright, swallowing whole systems in raw Immaterium. No Imperial world—not even Holy Terra—could survive in such conditions.
Nearby, Godzilla spotted a squad in pale, script-marked armor.
Word Bearers?
Few other Traitors wore white, but the galaxy was rife with splintered warbands. Still, the answer soon came.
[They are Word Bearers.]
Erebus is here?
[He is.]
Perfect. I'm going to kill him.
Godzilla's roar thundered across the battlefield, shaking the Word Bearers to their core. Even Erebus felt the urge to butcher the idiot cultists who had brought this beast here.
The kaiju's rage was palpable.
"Retreat at once!" Erebus barked. "Third squad—slaughter the cultists, use their blood to open a Warp gate! We're leaving immediately!"
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