That face that flashed under the hood, that voice, those words, and that aura.
That aura, that aura was undoubtedly his, an aura no Horus' Sons could ever forget, the aura of their gene-father.
Abaddon's gaze wavered, his expression trembled, filled with fear and terror.
His eyes, looking at the figure in the linen robe, no longer saw an enemy, but rather...
Like looking at his own father.
"Father... but how is this possible?" Abaddon cried out in despair.
"Nothing is impossible, Ezekiel."
The voice of the linen-robed figure was very soft:
"Just as I could not imagine that the First Captain of the Luna Wolves would fall to such a state without realizing it."
"No!" Abaddon's voice suddenly sharpened, and he immediately retorted: "I haven't!"
"I haven't followed in your footsteps, I haven't fallen into the abyss of Chaos, I haven't become a puppet of the Four Gods!"
The figure in the linen robe said nothing, merely watching Abaddon silently.
Only after a few seconds did he slowly open his mouth and say: "You are not the first to think that."
Abaddon suddenly gasped, taking a sharp breath.
"I'll give you two choices."
The linen-robed figure moved slightly, revealing Alexander behind him:
"The first choice..."
"The pocket on my friend's belly is specially prepared for lost souls like you."
Hearing the words of the linen-robed figure, Alexander smiled slightly, extended his hand, and shook the four-dimensional pocket on his belly: "Why don't you come in and have an epiphany?"
Abaddon was startled, a layer of cold sweat breaking out all over his body.
He wasn't foolish enough to walk into a tiger's mouth.
Even ten thousand years ago, Abaddon's feelings for his gene-father were not that deep.
"No!"
Abaddon refused sharply, he suddenly stood up, and then—
A bloody gash appeared on his face, blood gushing out, and one of Abaddon's eyes was in excruciating pain, seemingly completely blinded.
But Abaddon also quickly swung the Demon Sword Drach'nyen in his hand, clashing with the Black Sword in the hand of the linen-robed figure.
Abaddon was instantly forced back; he could feel the Demon Sword Drach'nyen beginning to slack off again.
He couldn't help but mentally curse drach'nyen's non-existent mother.
"Are you forcing me to kill you?"
The figure in the linen robe slowly spoke.
"You are trying to kill me!" Abaddon said hoarsely: "I don't want to be your enemy."
The main reason was that he couldn't win.
Regardless of whether the person in front of him was his gene-father, his strength was undeniably powerful.
Abaddon couldn't defeat him, especially with drach'nyen only pretending to fight.
Drach'nyen's only wish was to kill the False Emperor.
It wasn't interested in the holy relics transported by Belisarius Cawl.
Nor was it willing to fight an existence that might be a Primarch for Abaddon.
The Black Sword drooped slightly, and the linen-robed figure gazed at Abaddon.
"Then why aren't you retreating?"
Abaddon's eyes widened suddenly, disbelieving the words spoken by the linen-robed figure, but also feeling as if he had received a great pardon.
A flash of teleportation light instantly enveloped Abaddon and the Gasterling Terminators who had followed him, surrounding them.
The Warmaster Abaddon chose without hesitation to use a teleportation beam to escape back to the Vengeful Spirit, his haste evident.
His figure vanished in the teleportation light after a few breaths.
Meanwhile, the ordinary Black Legion Astartes watched this scene with dull expressions.
The Warmaster ran away???
Warmaster Abaddon ran away???
Wait, did the Warmaster just call that figure in the linen robe "Father"?
A terrifying silence filled the air, the linen-robed figure holding the Black Sword, silently glancing at the Black Legion warriors.
"One day, Warmaster Abaddon was bragging to Fabius, the old english doctor."
Alexander suddenly spoke leisurely:
"Fabius said: 'My medical technology is very advanced; I can create a medicine that will revive a corpse if it takes it.'"
"Abaddon said: 'My great work will surely be realized; I will kill my way from the Eye of Terror to Terra along the Crimson Path!'"
"Fabius didn't believe him and demanded proof. Abaddon panicked and quickly gathered his subordinates to discuss."
"At this moment, a wizard who believed in the Lord of Change spoke: 'Warmaster Abaddon, I have a plan. You can have Fabius bring the medicine and give it to Warmaster Horus' corpse. Once Warmaster Horus revives, you won't need the Crimson Path to run from the Eye of Terror to Terra.'"
Everyone present listened to Alexander's words, stunned in place.
"Pfft ha ha ha ha ha." Only Reyna was on the side, trying hard to hold back her laughter, but in the end, she couldn't and burst out laughing.
Alexander looked at these Black Legion Astartes with pity.
"Silly kids, run!" he said sincerely, extending his hand to point the Black Legion towards the direction of the mountain peak, indicating for them to run that way.
Incidentally, Alexander also retrieved the Hot Clapboard & Robot Director from Sanguinius' hand.
In an instant, the Black Legion Astartes suddenly understood.
That's right, the path down the mountain was blocked, they should run up the mountain, cross this mountain, and then figure out a way to retreat back to their void ships.
The Warmaster had fled, what were they still doing here?!
The Black Legion did not hesitate, turning and running towards the peak of the Old Woman's Mountain.
The Battle Sisters, the Cadia 184th Regiment, and the Knight Houses wanted to pursue, but Alexander waved his hand, signaling them not to rush.
The Cadia 184th Regiment were the first to stop; they were old acquaintances with Alexander and knew his style.
The Battle Sisters also stopped, only because Saint Celestine stood in front of them.
Belisarius Cawl likewise uttered a string of binary prayers, signaling the Knights that there was no need to pursue.
Only Greyfax looked at Alexander with suspicion and scrutiny, then unhesitatingly prepared to continue following the Black Legion—
Bang!!!
Belisarius Cawl struck Greyfax's back of the head with the back of his axe. His strong body, constantly modified over ten thousand years, and his accumulated extensive biological knowledge allowed the Archmagos to knock Greyfax unconscious with a quick, short axe blow.
Alexander couldn't help but give Archmagos Belisarius Cawl a thumbs up. Cawl tilted his mechanical body slightly, bowing in return to Alexander.
He didn't know why, but the Archmagos' body was trembling slightly. Could it be that Krasus' cold wind was affecting the operation of his machine spirit?
Before Alexander could ponder, Sanguinius walked up to him.
Alexander looked at the face Sanguinius hid under the linen robe; it was a bald, majestic face, like an ancient general—it was Horus' face, molded from Alexander's Body Clay.
"My essence contains all the emotions of living beings towards Horus over ten thousand years, and the echo of Horus killing me."
"Furthermore, the scar Horus left on my chest back then is still there. With these two combined, I can disguise my aura to be indistinguishable from Horus."
"This also benefits from you; you've used the faces of me and my brothers too many times, so the gods in the Warp pay less attention to these things."
"Of course, it's still limited to five minutes, otherwise the gods would surely see through it."
Sanguinius spoke softly, handing the Black Sword in his hand to Alexander:
"Spoils of war. the machine spirit of this Black Sword contains fragments of Sigismund's consciousness. His anger and hatred for Abaddon are so strong that they haven't completely faded after ten thousand years. You decide whether to sell it or not."
"If more than half of the Black Swords could be gathered, there might be a way to revive Sigismund's consciousness from them."
Alexander nodded slightly, tucked the Black Sword into the four-dimensional pocket, and glanced at its price.
The price was indeed not low, but for Alexander now, it wasn't something he absolutely had to sell. Keeping it as a collection was quite good, after all, it contained a part of Sigismund's old Black Sword, and the machine spirit still retained some of Sigismund's will.
As for gathering more than half of the Black Swords, and perhaps finding a way to revive Sigismund's will—that would require the cooperation of the Black Templars.
"Can't kill him?" Alexander asked with some regret, referring, of course, to Abaddon.
"The gods have other plans for him and will not let him die here. Rashly attempting to kill him would only draw the gods' attention."
Sanguinius shook his head and said:
"By the way, these gods include five. And then there's drach'nyen; even my father wouldn't dare to underestimate it. This Demon Sword, born from humanity's first murder, is a natural bane to the human race, and I am no exception."
"As long as it doesn't want Abaddon to die, I can't finish him in five minutes."
"However, I have transferred a tiny fraction of the wound Horus left on me to Abaddon, combined with my Psyker power, and a physical wound—Abaddon will not be able to heal for a very long time."
Alexander nodded slightly; this was a plan they had discussed early on.
This way, to clear that wound, all Four Gods would have to agree.
And the Four Gods were not a monolithic entity, especially since Abaddon's value had actually decreased after the Great Rift opened.
By the time the Four Gods reached an agreement and discovered that this wound was the one Horus had left on Sanguinius, Alexander and the others would have already arrived at Macragge.
Furthermore, the wound on Abaddon's body was an extension of the wound on Sanguinius' body; on the Warp level, they were one.
When the Four Gods cleared this wound, Sanguinius would have the opportunity to have the wound on his own body cleared as well.
Healing Abaddon meant giving Sanguinius a chance to heal. What would the Four Gods choose?
Sanguinius silently checked his internal clock, then looked at Alexander and said: "Time is running out, I'll retreat back into your four-dimensional pocket."
Alexander nodded slightly, shaking the four-dimensional pocket for Sanguinius to enter.
Just then, the sound of battle erupted from the mountaintop.
Alexander looked out and saw that the recently retreated Black Legion had collided with the Eldar Death Guard descending the mountain.
A smile involuntarily curled at the corner of his mouth.