Abaddon lay in agony on the command throne of the Vengeful Spirit.
The wound on his chest was constantly writhing.
This wound originated from the blow Horus dealt to Sanguinius, infused with the boundless Warp energy of the Four Gods.
The wound directly pierced through time and causality, branded onto Sanguinius' very existence, and became a part of Sanguinius' essence.
Unless the Four Gods withdrew their power, this wound was almost incurable.
However, this wound was not without its benefits for Sanguinius; he could tap into a sliver of the Four Gods' power through it.
He could extend this wound to others, such as Abaddon, and the extended wound would likewise be almost impossible to remove, unless the Four Gods permitted it.
But if the Four Gods allowed the wound on Abaddon to heal, Sanguinius' wound would also disappear, as they were essentially the same wound.
Thus, the Four Gods unanimously decided, 'Let Abaddon suffer a bit.'
Though shallow, they all, for their own reasons, were unwilling to relinquish that sliver of a wound etched into Sanguinius' essence.
This, then, was Abaddon's suffering.
On Sanguinius, this wound at most affected his combat prowess, but the problem was that even with this wound, those who could defeat Sanguinius were still few and far between.
But on Abaddon, this wound was different; Abaddon felt as if he was on the brink of death every moment, the blasphemous Warp energy of the Four Gods within the wound was so potent it was almost bursting his body.
Abaddon clearly perceived that the Four Gods' blessings contained in the blow Horus used to kill Sanguinius were many times greater than what the Four Gods had ever given him before.
This was simply more than Abaddon's flesh and blood body could bear.
Besides this wound, there was another thing that tormented Abaddon.
Through the command throne, Abaddon could sense that the Vengeful Spirit was riddled with holes.
The gap trees and various blasphemous plants from Nurgle's Garden were growing within it, and from time to time, large numbers of crew members were infected by plague, turning into zombies rampaging in the shadows of the ship's hold.
This Gloriana-class Battleship was, in essence, on the verge of collapse.
Abaddon had visited many Warp-smiths and members of the Dark Adeptus Mechanicus with the Vengeful Spirit, but none could repair it.
He even went to visit Perturabo, risking angering him by disturbing his vehicle-building, to beg for his help.
The only response he received was that Perturabo was not home; he had gone to look for his missing hammer.
This inexplicable response left Abaddon furious.
He was Perturabo; who would dare steal his hammer? It was clearly just a pretense to fob off Abaddon!
Abaddon was angry, but helpless.
His body grew weaker, the Chaos Warp energy constantly eroding him.
His Vengeful Spirit was on the verge of shattering, his flagship for ten thousand years, and once the flagship of the Horus' Sons.
Horus' Sons, Luna Wolves.
Under the torment of Chaos Warp energy, fragments of hallucinations appeared before Abaddon's eyes.
He seemed to see a dark pool of water, with the rising moon reflected within it.
He saw the Four Kings Council welcoming a new member:
"By the moon, Loken."
Abaddon heard himself standing by the pool, saying:
"You shall make an oath to us, as unbreakable as all the oaths you have ever made."
"Among brothers, there are no secrets; the present world is material, but friendship is eternal."
"This is an oath witnessing the bond of brotherhood, not a sorcerous pact. We stand side by side in the moonlight, and only this oath connects us into a bond that only death can break."
Loken wore a foolish expression; he suspected at the time that it was some blasphemous ritual, and Abaddon had to use much persuasion to convince him it was merely following custom.
"I understand," Loken still said solemnly, "I am willing to make the oath."
So Loken began to recite the names of the deceased members of the Four Kings Council.
The Four Kings Council, the four most excellent warriors among the Luna Wolves, they were Horus' advisors, the Warmaster's close companions, representing four different qualities and personalities, serving as different aspects of the Warmaster's will, and together forming the soul of the legion.
Abaddon was fiery and wrathful, Little Horus was melancholic and detached, Torgaddon was lighthearted and cheerful, and Loken represented rationality and calmness.
That had been Scyarnus' position.
Loken began to recite the names of the departed, from Kyshen to Scyarnus; since the founding of the Four Kings Council, nine had passed, three remained, and Loken was the thirteenth.
"Died in glory!" Little Horus and Abaddon declared in unison, "Only moonlight offers lament! Only death can break their duty!"
"The names of the departed have been spoken, let us praise Scyarnus, the last to fall! Hail! Scyarnus!"
"And you, Gavriel Loken! The Four Kings Council asks you to take Scyarnus' place. Do you accept and swear to uphold the unity of the Four Kings Council?"
"I gladly accept and swear."
"Are you proud of the name Luna Wolves and forever loyal to it?"
"I am proud of it and forever loyal."
"Are you loyal to our Primarch and the Immortal Emperor who commands all Primarchs?"
"I swear it."
"Are you willing to kill for the living, and also kill for the dead?"
"I kill for the living, and I kill for the dead."
Finally, Abaddon gazed at Gavriel Loken and said, "By the moonlight that shines upon us, do you swear to be my, our, true brother, without concealment, open and honest, cherishing our brotherhood and never betraying it?"
Gavriel Loken looked up at Abaddon: "I accept."
"Whatever the cost?" "Whatever the cost."
"Loken, my brother, welcome to the Four Kings Council. By the bright moon, among brothers, there are no secrets; the present world is material, but friendship is eternal." Abaddon embraced Loken tightly.
And then what?
And where was that bright moon that once shone upon the Four Kings Council, upon the Luna Wolves, upon Scyarnus, Abaddon, Little Horus, Torgaddon, and Loken?
Abaddon only saw Loken's lonely back, kneeling on one knee beside Horus' remains, gently advising Abaddon not to make the same mistakes again, not to repeat Horus' errors.
Loken, the representative of rationality and calmness in the Four Kings Council, fulfilled his duty until the very last moment. He advised Abaddon to lead the still-redeemable rebel legions to surrender to Dorn, and to stop creating more chaos and slaughter in the galaxy.
But Erebus suddenly appeared and killed Loken, claiming it was inevitable fate, that Loken had to die, this was a closed loop.
"Erebus is dead too!!!" Abaddon slammed the command throne, roaring angrily.
He had heard the news; the entire galaxy was singing of how Khârn had taken Erebus' life with his axe, achieving vengeance.
Abaddon still remembered Khârn's invitation before leaving the Vengeful Spirit. If Abaddon had agreed to Khârn then, if Abaddon had agreed to Loken then, if there had been no Serpent Temple, if, if, if...
There were no ifs. Abaddon had long since passed the point of no return.
He could only press on into the darkness, forward, forward, until the Crimson Path tore Terra apart, until he destroyed the False Emperor.
Abaddon had countless times deluded himself with words like 'for humanity,' 'for the Astartes,' 'for revenge.'
But at this moment, he suddenly realized that there was only one reason for his thirteen Black Expeditions from beginning to end: he could only do this, he had no other choice.
Just then, a harsh, sharp electrical sound suddenly roared in the Vengeful Spirit's bridge. The Warp-smiths and Dark Adeptus Mechanicus priests who were trying to repair the ship let out terrified screams, but their cries instantly turned into a chaotic binary whisper as they entered the air.
A hoof, dripping with molten iron, extended from the void and landed on the metal floor, making a crisp sound.
Metal wings slowly spread, and furnace-like crimson eyes stared at Abaddon.
"Abaddon, the Despoiler, Warmaster."
A metallic voice resounded, and the Warp-smiths and Dark Adeptus Mechanicus priests simultaneously looked at Abaddon and said:
"I am Vashtorr, the Arch-Forger. I have come to negotiate."
Another despicable dark entity, Abaddon thought, propping up his weakened body.
Just then, Abaddon suddenly felt the entire Vengeful Spirit tremble. Many Warp-smiths and members of the Dark Adeptus Mechanicus seemed to be controlled, beginning to repair the Vengeful Spirit with unprecedented efficiency, and even the Vengeful Spirit itself was rapidly repairing.
"I could manipulate this ship to destroy you. I could control these cultists to slaughter you, but I haven't."
The dark entity calling itself Vashtorr said with a cold, utterly transparent tone, devoid of any pretense:
"Instead, I am healing your ship. I hope you take this as goodwill, as the basis for our alliance."
Abaddon laughed.
"I will not consider you an ally for this ridiculous goodwill. You, you dark entities, will never be my allies, nor will you be my masters."
"I know that behind your goodwill lies only deceit. You are fickle and unpredictable. You will never truly give us what we want."
"You only want to exploit the foolish blind followers, and I am not the person you seek. I have never wavered. I use the Dark Gods as I would a rich resource that requires no repayment. I will not blindly follow your capricious words."
"I don't care who your masters are behind you; you are all the same."
Vashtorr couldn't help but laugh, seemingly pleased by Abaddon's words.
"I belong to no one. I am not a servant of some entity you imagine."
Vashtorr said in an unequivocal tone:
"I am an independent entity. I have come to sign a contract with you on my own behalf."
He was independent? Vashtorr's words made Abaddon pause. This resonated slightly with him; he himself also refused to submit to the Dark Gods.
Almost instantly, Abaddon felt a fleeting moment of goodwill towards Vashtorr.
No, they were all the same, fickle and shameless. Every word they spoke contained thousands of traps, completely lacking in contractual spirit.
"You can look at the contract first before considering," Vashtorr said.
Contract?
This unfamiliar word made Abaddon momentarily stunned.
Then he saw Vashtorr wave his hand, and thousands of white papers fell from the void, arranging themselves neatly before Abaddon, forming layers of white mountains.
Abaddon, somewhat dumbfounded, picked up one of the papers.
It clearly and precisely delineated Abaddon's and Vashtorr's respective obligations, rights, and risks, with each clause clarified by hundreds of thousands of annotations to eliminate ambiguity, and each annotation further clarified by other annotations to eliminate ambiguity in the annotations themselves, as meticulously structured as a building constructed by the most rigorous engineers.
Furthermore, the contract straightforwardly stated his purpose, which was the pursuit of true apotheosis, and even the ways and means by which he intended to achieve this purpose were clearly written in the contract, without a single riddle or prophecy.
Clean, direct, neat, logical... Is this really the Warp? This isn't going to take me to Macragge, is it?
This guy, he really seems different.
Abaddon thought, bewildered.
Indomitus Crusade First Battle Group, High Fabricator Belisarius Dora Cawl's Ark Mechanicus, the Explorer King.
Alexander walked somewhat silently through Cawl's massive laboratory, observing Cawl's research achievements.
Especially the white substance, resembling both clay and some kind of flesh, submerged in a cultivation tank, and a red metal block placed beside the tank.
"Hallowed be! Great prime mover, divine Doraemon, your arrival has increased the research efficiency throughout this ship by 2222%. Your loyal servant High Fabricator Belisarius Dora Cawl praises your boundless might."
High Fabricator Belisarius Dora Cawl bowed to Alexander with his metallic body, which was even larger than an Astartes. He seemed a little apprehensive.
The Archmagos hesitated for a moment before speaking:
"My Lord, I follow your teachings, studying and exploring the wisdom within the wondrous tools you created, attempting to unravel their principles."
"However, my wisdom cannot compare to even a fraction of yours. Currently, my research has only yielded these two results, which may seem quite laughable in your eyes."
"But this is the culmination of my humble efforts — perhaps the zenith of human ingenuity."
"This flesh-like substance I call 'Body Clay,' is the result of my research into your magnificent tool, the 'Body Clay.'"
"Through complex electrical stimulation, 'Body Clay' can be molded into any shape of limb or organ. Once formed, no transplantation is required; it simply needs to be applied close to a severed limb, and it will automatically join, with no rejection reaction whatsoever. It's ready for use immediately upon application."
Alexander's brows twitched slightly. Compared to the Body Clay, which could be freely molded, Cawl's 'Body Clay' was clearly much more troublesome, but to achieve this level was already...
"And this metal is the result of research into the 'Phantom Thief DX Suit.' I found that the materials used to forge this tool are distinctly different from other tools. After long-term research, I am convinced that the material used is transformed from common metals."
"But the complexity of the technology within it is beyond my comprehension. I can only crudely imitate a very small step in the transformation process, which led to the creation of this metal."
Belisarius Cawl pointed to the red, polygonal metal, which looked more like a crystal than metal:
"I call it Belisarius Metal. This metal can be transformed from any common metal and is easier to forge than most metals. Once forged, its strength is slightly greater than auramite."
"The only pity is that the transformation process takes a long time. Although it is easier to produce than auramite, its output still cannot rival ceramite."
"Please forgive your foolish worshipper for presuming to show off before your great wisdom."
"..Perhaps in your eyes, this is merely a laughable creation, but it is the utmost we mortals can achieve."
Cawl lowered his tired head, speaking with extreme humility and reverence.
Alexander first looked at Cawl, then at the Belisarius Metal on the table and the Body Clay beside it.
And then...
"..Damn it, Cawl, you're a genius."