Chapter 477: Ambush! Encirclement! Crimson Daemon Magnus!
"Such a disgusting creature. I'd rather be tortured to death than end up looking like that."
Standing beside Horus, Abaddon clicked his tongue. At first, when he realized that the current Warmaster of Chaos was "himself," he had felt a little ashamed. But once he understood that the one who caused the Heresy was Horus, his mind quickly balanced out.
After all, his own Primarch had caused a disaster far greater than he ever could—what was there for him to worry about? And besides, in this timeline, he had only become Warmaster of Chaos because the Dark Gods had no one else to put on the throne.
Otherwise, the position would never have fallen to him.
Deep down, Abaddon knew exactly where his strength stood.
Looking at this Abaddon who was the spitting image of his former self, the Daemon Abaddon froze for a moment. After so many days, he had more or less figured out the origins of these Primarchs.
A group of Primarchs from a parallel universe had come here to restore the Imperium of Mankind.
The Chaos Gods didn't know how these Primarchs had arrived, but once they learned even part of the truth, much of their dread and anxiety melted away.
The unknown is always the greatest fear. As long as they grasped some information, they believed they could overcome them.
Since another batch of Primarchs had appeared, then they too would be corrupted and turned into Daemon Primarchs!
"You want to end up looking like me? You're not qualified."
Daemon Abaddon sneered. With a swing of his daemon sword, more Chaos legions poured out of the Warp rifts—over twice the number that had emerged before!
Clearly, this was a carefully prepared encirclement against Horus.
In the blink of an eye, the surging Chaos legions completely surrounded Horus and his Luna Wolves. Their warships and troops quickly sealed off every direction.
Even at Daemon Abaddon's side, countless elite Chaos warriors and commanders clustered together.
"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!"
Countless Chaos warriors bellowed provocations at Horus. After ten thousand years, most had long forgotten what the former Warmaster of Chaos had once been like—youthful, resplendent, full of fire.
Immortality and infinite Warp power had made them abandon their old honor and ideals. Now, all they wanted was to seize more territory, power, and resources to satisfy their selfish desires.
Pleasing and serving the Dark Gods was their sole purpose.
Chaos warriors poured in from every direction, blurring the boundary between realspace and the Warp. Phantoms materialized, organs and flesh spilling into reality, the battlefield turning into a living hell.
"Heh, with this ragged mob? You're not even enough to get stuck between my teeth."
Facing the mountains of corpses and seas of blood, Horus burst into bold laughter. This only deepened Daemon Abaddon's hesitation.
Seeing Horus so confident, he couldn't help but wonder if his enemy had some hidden trump card.
Although Daemon Horus had been dead for ten thousand years, no one knew Horus's abilities better than Daemon Abaddon.
This man never fought unprepared. And yet, surrounded as he was now, Horus and his Luna Wolves had not shifted into defensive formations—instead, they looked eager to charge.
Could these Astartes truly fight even stronger than his own legions?
Around them, the Chaos warriors were already straining at the leash, desperate to tear the enemy apart. Like restless beasts, they thirsted for flesh and blood.
But without Daemon Abaddon's order, none dared advance recklessly.
Meanwhile, the Luna Wolves stood battle-ready, poised to attack. They had only just finished a two-hundred-year-long crusade. Their discipline, tactics, and fighting skill were still razor-sharp.
Situations where they had been surrounded before were nothing new—every time, they had been the ones laughing last. This time would be no different.
Sure enough, just as Daemon Abaddon realized Horus was only bluffing to stall for time, he looked up—and saw countless warships breaking through the Warp into the battlefield.
The fleets formed dense ranks, like rivers of starlight cascading across the void, unleashing fire upon the Chaos legions.
"Don't think you're the only one who can call for help. My brothers are far more numerous than yours!"
Horus laughed in relief. He never truly thought his small force could gain the upper hand against Daemon Abaddon—unless the two of them fought a one-on-one duel.
And though Abaddon bore the blessings of all four Chaos Gods, Horus was still the Warmaster of the Imperium, armed with the Emperor's Sword.
And Abaddon's gene-seed had come from Horus himself—their clash would be like a father disciplining his wayward son.
But Horus was no fool. He knew no one would play by the old rules of single combat when a group battle was far more effective.
So he had played along—bantering to buy time, while secretly summoning the other Primarchs to converge here.
Since Daemon Abaddon had revealed himself, he had to be destroyed on the spot. Killing him here would hasten the collapse of the Chaos legions.
"This… this is impossible! How could they have arrived so quickly?!"
Daemon Abaddon was stunned.
By rights, even if Horus had sent out a distress call beforehand, it would have had to travel through the Warp. Even if their sorcerers hadn't intercepted it, it should have taken decades—perhaps centuries—to reach distant forces.
But now? Only moments had passed, and the Primarchs' reinforcements were already here.
Seeing his dumbfounded expression, Horus laughed with smug delight. The Universal Megacorp's superluminal communication and jump drives had long since been installed on their fleets.
Reinforcement in such short order was no challenge at all.
Soon, drop-pods rained down like a storm, blanketing planets and void alike. Daemon Abaddon stood frozen, stunned by the sight.
He even caught glimpses of AI war-machines among them—but weren't those abominations banned by mankind? How could they appear in Horus's army?
"Horus, you despicable bastard! You dare use abominable intelligence…!"
Daemon Abaddon trembled with fear and rage as he watched wave after wave of troops reversing the encirclement, trapping his Chaos legions instead. He realized his defeat might already be sealed.
"Abaddon, Tzeentch's schemes haven't made you any wiser. Khorne's bloodlust hasn't made you any braver. Look at yourself—you're just as pathetic and stupid as before."
Horus mocked him without restraint, leaving the Abaddon at his side feeling more than a little embarrassed.
The insults were aimed at someone else, yet he still felt ashamed himself.
Abaddon wanted to say something, but he dared not speak rashly in front of the Primarch Horus, so he simply pretended not to hear.
"This time you were lucky. Next time we'll fight again!"
Daemon Abaddon was no bull-headed fool. Without absolute certainty of victory, he would never go head-to-head to the bitter end.
The greatest advantage of the Chaos Legions was their freedom to come and go as they pleased, able to open a warp rift and retreat swiftly to their lairs. Humanity outside the material universe could do nothing to stop them.
Now, as before, he intended to use his daemon sword to open a return channel into the warp, leaving Horus behind to fume in frustration.
Seeing more and more Primarchs' forces arriving at the battlefield, Daemon Abaddon sneered coldly. What did it matter how many came? If they struck empty air, their trip was wasted all the same.
Bang—!
Just as Daemon Abaddon attempted to reenter the warp, an invisible force slammed him back.
When he looked more closely, he realized that the warp portal opened by his daemon sword had vanished into thin air!
And not only that—all the other arrays opened by Chaos sorcerers also disappeared one by one. The psychic energy within them dimmed away until it could no longer be felt at all.
"The warp… has vanished?!"
Daemon Abaddon looked around in terror. He had never seen such a bizarre thing. Without warp power, this Chaos host could stir up nothing at all in the material universe.
What terrified him even more was the tall, handsome Primarch approaching him—one hand holding the Forgebreaker Blade, the other holding a scorched severed head.
It was none other than Fulgrim, Primarch of the Emperor's Children!
When Abaddon clearly saw that the head in Fulgrim's hand belonged to Daemon Prince, his face turned pale with shock. If even daemon prince had been slain, then surely the remaining Primarchs would be hunted down one by one in turn.
Thud.
Fulgrim tossed the severed head at Abaddon's feet, still looking at him with distaste.
"Abaddon, you look so hideously ugly like this, it's almost breathtaking."
"To be honest, I don't even feel like killing you."
As always, Fulgrim's first strike was directed at a daemon's appearance. As a true devotee of beauty, he could not abide the existence of anything imperfect—especially the grotesque forms of Chaos warriors.
Hearing Fulgrim's words, the Abaddon beside Horus was once again caught in the crossfire.
It was bad enough being scolded as brainless and stupid by Horus; now Fulgrim had come to insult his looks as well. That was just bullying!
But faced with the open and subtle mockery of two Primarchs, he could only endure it.
After all, in intelligence he could not compare with Horus; in looks, he could not compare with Fulgrim or Sanguinius.
Though unhappy, being called a fool and an eyesore wasn't exactly wrong.
"Abaddon, give up your resistance now and spare us all the trouble."
As Fulgrim's voice fell, the other Primarchs appeared as well—Ferrus, Rogal, and others—surrounding Daemon Abaddon in unison.
They weren't urging him to surrender out of mercy, but only to offer these Chaos traitors a swifter death. Being shot dead was kinder than being hacked to pieces.
In any case, the Chaos Legions were doomed. At least this way, everyone could save some effort.
Facing his former Primarchs one after another, Abaddon felt as if he were dreaming. He had always been a minor, insignificant figure.
Now, confronted with so many radiant Primarchs, his feelings of inadequacy crushed him, shame and fear choking him until he could not issue new orders.
He had worked so hard to arrange an ambush for Horus, yet in the blink of an eye, he himself was the one being ambushed by the Primarchs!
"Heh heh heh… Truly, the Changer of Ways is cleverer still. He foresaw that Horus had a hidden hand. But it's useless—your trip here is doomed to failure."
Just as Daemon Abaddon hovered on the brink of despair, paralyzed with uncertainty, the frozen warp was suddenly shattered by a mysterious psychic force. In the violently rippling warp came a raucous, manic laugh.
An instant later, a crimson-skinned, fiend-like Daemon Primarch appeared—it was Daemon Magnus, Daemon Prince of Tzeentch!
Holding a staff glowing with psychic light in one hand and a sphere covered in dark runes in the other, Magnus stepped forth before them.
The Primarchs were briefly stunned at the sight of Magnus's corrupted form. This was nothing like the Magnus they remembered.
But soon, their shock gave way to delight. They had been fretting over how to enter the warp to hunt Magnus down, and now he had come to them of his own accord!
Perfect—time to finish it in one sweep.
"Magnus! Quickly, get us out of here!"
Abaddon was overjoyed. Yes, it had to be Tzeentch's Daemon Primarch—far more cunning than that reckless fool daemon prince.
He could not fathom how Fulgrim had managed to kill Daemon Prince. By rights, Fulgrim should never have been his match.
To be slain in single combat—such a humiliation was an indelible stain upon the Chaos Legions.
But it no longer mattered.
Given the situation, even if daemon prince himself were here, it would change nothing. But Magnus's arrival—this gave them hope of escape.
Even before his fall, Magnus had been an extraordinary psyker, second only to the Emperor himself. Now, with Tzeentch's tutelage, his psychic power was hundreds of times greater.
All manner of forbidden arrays and sorceries were child's play to him.
"Rest assured. I came here to save you."
Daemon Magnus did not take the gathered Primarchs seriously in the least. He had already prepared a massive teleportation array and woven counter-sorceries against the Geller Field Horus had raised.
No one could stop him from taking this Chaos host away!
But before he acted, the proud Magnus approached Horus and the other Primarchs, taunting them:
"Brothers, how I have missed you. The knowledge of the warp—I truly wish I could share it with you. But don't be disheartened."
"Because before long, we will meet again in the warp. And once more, you shall faithfully serve the mighty gods as you did before!"
Magnus's cruel smile was utterly sinister. Tzeentch had already laid countless snares, preparing to lure these Primarchs into betraying the Emperor once more, to bring them beneath the banner of Chaos.
If the plan had succeeded once, surely it could succeed again!
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