Chapter 122
When the Warp-born Godzilla appeared, Abaddon had only one thought:
It seems I am not the victor after all.
In fact… this feels like a loss. A huge loss.
No, he couldn't admit that. He had to say something, create a scene—otherwise he would lose all face and dignity.
Abaddon suddenly turned, cape whipping, and barked to his Black Legion warband:
"Notify the fleet. Begin attacking the other star systems of the Obscurus Segmentum. This time, no one can stop us!"
At moments like this, smart subordinates stayed quiet.
Unfortunately, one warrior with very low emotional intelligence spoke up:
"Warmaster… what about the new Godzilla?"
Abaddon glared at him with eyes that said plainly: You don't have a job tomorrow.
But Abaddon was not the sort to be cornered. He instantly spun a justification.
"That thing is merely Godzilla's essence in the Warp. Do you even understand the nature of the Warp? Our goal was always the Blackstone Fortress array over Cadia. And now—Cadia has fallen. That means we have already won!"
He emphasized the word victory with savage force.
If anyone still failed to read the situation correctly, Abaddon would happily make a blood sacrifice of them to Drach'nyen.
Sure enough, silence followed. His prestige was absolute. Even the captains of other Traitor Legions held their tongues.
Lucius only licked at his own nose with that serpentine tongue and laughed to himself.
Typhus remained quiet, a cloud of flies buzzing around him.
Khârn simply turned, axe in hand, already eager to chop the nearest living thing.
"Good. Back to the fleet," Abaddon ordered. "Leave this battlefield to the daemons. We have more important work."
Ironically, without the Black Legion's intervention, Cawl and his allies would never have succeeded in reviving Roboute Guilliman.
The original plan was fragile: the Eldar's Crone Sword, combined with Cawl's armor of destiny, to kill and then resurrect the Primarch.
But who in their right mind would let an alien psychic blade strike down the Avenging Son? The Ultramarines would never allow it. Calgar himself would have smashed the Eldar into paste with his Gauntlets of Ultramar if they'd tried.
It was only the Black Legion's commando raids, jetpacks screaming as they descended from orbit, that forced the Ultramarines to focus on survival instead of murdering Cawl and Yvraine.
And so Guilliman lived again.
What loyalty, eh?
Does an eldest nephew really need a reason to save his thirteenth uncle?
Of course not.
Alright, enough jokes.
The arrival of Warp Godzilla meant Cadia's future was no longer an uncontrolled ruin. Like Godzilla's homeworld, or Catachan, it was now both Warp-tainted and strangely real.
Whether humans could survive there was another matter. A world fit for Godzilla was not the same as one fit for mankind. Don't project human aesthetics onto the King of Monsters.
Think about it—doesn't that make Godzilla very Warhammer already?
Anything inhuman, twisted, alien… fits just fine.
Cadia's story, for now, had ended.
But—
[Cadia stands.]
The battlefield cleared.
The Emperor, in His strange way, gave Godzilla face: a handful of humans chose to follow the lizardmen forces back to Planet Godzilla. No more than a thousand—less than the crew of a single frigate.
Compared to Cadia's tens of billions, it was practically extinction.
But more Cadians had been evacuated aboard Imperial transports. They would serve as the core of future Astra Militarum regiments.
Either way, the Siege of Cadia was over.
Godzilla returned to his own planet, ignoring the Chaos fleet that lingered in orbit.
Abaddon had once airdropped the World Eaters against him. None returned.
As for orbital bombardment? The Despoiler was not eager to awaken another kaiju nightmare.
'Hey, how long before Cawl reaches Macragge?'
[About half a year.]
'Half a year?! That long?'
[That's fast. With the Imperium's current efficiency, half a year from Cadia to Macragge is basically a miracle.]
'Tch. The Second Empire would be faster.'
[Keep saying that, and Guilliman might keel over from rage right after resurrecting.]
Godzilla sighed. Half a year. Too long to just keep swatting Chaos like flies.
Time to check on other matters.
'How's my ship?'
[The Genesis was heavily damaged. Katata and the remaining crew are repairing it. Once done, it'll be stronger than before.]
'Good, good. Let her take her time. Best if she can build me something like the Phalanx.'
[Impossible. Too big, too few resources. But something on the level of a planet-killer is within reach.]
'Hah! I like that Katata more and more!'
Godzilla's eyes gleamed. Creating the lizardmen had been the right call. It was boring, fighting alone all the time.
"I just love this kind of big, loud, WAAAGH! stuff!"
[So… do you like girls, or just oversized weapons?]
And the galaxy spun on.
Soon Guilliman would rise again, shifting the Imperium's wars from Chaos toward Tyranids and Necrons.
The Tyranids had already come close twice—nearly devouring the homeworlds of both Ultramarines and Blood Angels. Wrong place, wrong time.
Then the Necrons stirred. The Silent King returned, gathering his people, ending their civil strife, and calling his forces back from fighting the Tyranids.
The Adeptus Mechanicus unearthed forbidden Golden Age technology, clashing directly with Necron forces in the Pariah Nexus. It drove even the Silent King to despair.
The Imperium was still the same rickety house—but kick it hard enough, and a swarm of fanatics would spill out to beat you bloody.
With Vashtorr rising in the Warp, and the Leagues of Votann revealing themselves with ancient tech, the Necrons' claim to galactic supremacy no longer seemed absolute.
But still—once unified under the Silent King, the Necrons remained a force beyond imagining.
The Necrons were still formidable.
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