Chapter 54: Evil Plan
The backside of Mars.
The Abyss Rage's overall silhouette was sword-shaped, three trident-like protrusions jutting from its bow. Its size dwarfed even the Emperor-class and Gloriana-class battleships.
Thick armor plating covered the hull. Carved into the bow's armor was a massive symbol, a scroll written in gold and silver, encircling a flame.
Hundreds of laser cannons lined both sides, weapons of devastating power.
The bow mounted the first prototype Plasma Lance, capable of gutting enemy ships in close-quarters combat. A psychic interference device sat integrated within, designed to scramble navigators' sensory systems in the Warp.
"Huh? Why does that book look so much like the Book of Lorgar?" Francis stroked his chin, though his eyes remained fixed on Keelbor Hal.
Keelbor Hal caught the gesture naturally, with dozens of observation bionics, missing such an obvious look would mean he should abdicate his position entirely.
"I already told them this was for you! Those Word Bearers wouldn't listen. They insisted on mounting that thing, and I take full responsibility for inadequate supervision."
"Tell you what, name a request, and I'll make it happen. What do you say?"
Keelbor Hal sighed inwardly. The Imperium was full of straightforward people, so how did someone like Francis emerge?
"Oh, that's too much trouble!"
Francis deliberately fidgeted. Before Keelbor Hal could respond, he continued, "Remove the book from the bow and replace it with a giant cannon. Then share some of the alien blood or corpses you've collected with me. How about that?"
"Those are two requests. I can only fulfill one. Besides, what do you need so many alien samples for?" Keelbor Hal frowned, his patience wearing thin.
"Ah, so the affection has faded. I—"
Keelbor Hal cut off the theatrics immediately. "Alright! Done! But you'll have to wait—modifications and sample collection take time."
"No problem! Your home is my home. Staying a little longer is no big deal." Francis patted the other man's shoulder, indicating there was no need for formality among family.
Keelbor Hal said nothing.
For the teleportation technology, he would endure this.
Upon entering the Abyss Rage, Francis headed straight for the laboratory. He was impatient to verify his hypothesis.
The other Soul Drinkers seemed bewildered by their Primarch's actions, unable to understand his fondness for conducting experiments alone.
They were more eager to familiarize themselves with the Abyss Rage. They had finally regained a battleship belonging to their own legion, a sense of belonging arose naturally.
Meanwhile, Francis produced a large bottle containing Horus's blood, estimated at several tens of liters.
Precious resources he'd painstakingly obtained by fighting Horus head-on!
He solemnly pulled out a goblet and slowly poured a glass. The blood was noticeably cloudier than expected.
He swirled the glass gently, then sniffed. A distinct pungent odor emanated from the blood.
"Alas. The blood is cloudy with an irritating odor. Seems Horus has been too prone to anger lately, his blood quality has deteriorated."
"I'll make do."
Francis looked regretful. This quality was worse than even Angron's.
Gulp.
Horus's blood had a distinct gritty texture upon entry, the liquid scraping against the back of his tongue like a blade. A rich, putrid taste rose up, like an apple rotted in summer heat.
Soon, genetic information transmitted.
Gene-Primarch: Horus
Loves father
Born on Cthonia, a gang kid, killed his foster father
Strong psychic abilities
Military talent
...
Amid the jumbled genetic information, Francis witnessed countless scenes of the Emperor and Horus fighting side-by-side. Everything seen in his hallucination was now etched into memory.
Francis remained stunned for a long while. He didn't feel significantly stronger anywhere.
Except for feeling much more energetic overall.
"So... Horus's blood is roughly equivalent to a psychic version of caffeine?"
Francis pondered. "The dose must be too small. I need to increase the dosage."
He picked up the jar and began chugging, stopping after consuming roughly a fifth.
Indeed.
The change began.
Francis gradually transformed from his Ork-like appearance back to human form—or more precisely, to Horus's appearance.
When the transformation ended, Francis approached the mirror and examined his face, his eyes wide with surprise. "Holy crap! I really turned into Horus!"
"Oh, oh! No—I am the Warmaster! I am the Warmaster of the Imperium! I am the Emperor's favorite child!"
Francis feigned seriousness, practicing Horus's mannerisms and tone in the mirror.
He lacked Angron's abilities, but this would prove useful for deception. His eyes gleamed as an interesting idea formed.
Screech.
The door opened. Sarpedon, standing at the entrance, immediately straightened.
"Warmaster?! What are you doing here?!" Sarpedon was clearly bewildered, the Primarch had entered, but the Warmaster emerged!
Francis made a shushing gesture, then whispered, "I am the Warmaster... no, I am Francis!"
Sarpedon grew even more suspicious, already conjuring a bolt of Retribution Lightning in his hand.
"Where did you hide our Primarch? Even if you are the Warmaster, this is unacceptable!"
Seeing his captain's disbelief, Francis whispered, "When your flesh mutated, I personally cut off your balls. Have you forgotten?"
Sarpedon's eyes widened immediately.
He believed. This was a secret known only to the Primarch and himself.
"Go call Fabius. I have something to discuss with him."
Sarpedon quickly ran to drag Fabius from the battleship.
"What are you doing?! Huh? Warmaster, how—?" Fabius's eyes widened. Before he could finish, Francis pulled him inside.
With a thump, Fabius found himself pinned against the wall. Francis grinned. "Don't be surprised. I'm Francis, and I called you here because I want you to clone Horus."
"That's not advisable." Fabius seemed hesitant, as if he were a proper Apothecary.
"Don't pretend! You've wanted to do this for ages! Look, that's all Horus's blood. If you miss this opportunity, you won't get another."
Francis gestured toward the laboratory bench. Fabius's eyes went wide. "Hehe, only you truly understand me, Primarch!"
While Fabius began cloning, Francis wasn't idle, he retrieved Dark Eldar blood samples.
Time passed like an unbridled wild donkey; no matter how hard you pulled, it wouldn't turn back.
Ten days flashed by. During that time, Angron visited.
It seemed that because they were not Orks, after a Warp jump, they felt as though their bodies had been disassembled into particles and reassembled. They spent several days acclimating before recovering, a truly strange sensation.
During that interval, the Adeptus Mechanicus modified the battleship and delivered a dazzling array of alien samples.
Meanwhile, in the conference room.
"Keelbor Hal, you said you would provide us with an Abyss-class battleship. Isn't it ready yet?"
"It was nearly complete before, wasn't it?" Erebus of the Word Bearers contacted them through psychic communication.
He had no other choice, he needed a powerful fleet urgently. His identity had been exposed prematurely, and recent expenditures had been enormous.
"There's nothing I can do! Technical matters are difficult to explain, but it's still not ready. You'll have to wait longer." Keelbor Hal's tone was helpless.
"Alright, let's set that aside. The Warmaster ordered you to eliminate the Tech-Priests still loyal to the Imperium. Why haven't you acted?"
"Could it be you've betrayed the Warmaster? Don't you want those STCs anymore?" Erebus's tone rose noticeably.
[End of Chapter]