Chapter 114
Abaddon had considered other methods to smash Cadia—redirecting asteroids, abandoned hulks, anything. But installing drives on an asteroid took time, and the Phalanx and Eldar Craftworld vessels would never let a meteor crawl past unchallenged. Time was exactly what he lacked.
Losses no longer mattered.
Just a few Blackstone arrays. Just a little more.
"If we win, everything else will be forgotten. If we lose… it doesn't matter how."
Abaddon could accept tactical defeat, but strategically—he had to win. Even if he entered the fray himself.
But on Vashtorr's front, things looked grim.
"This is… a technique I've never seen."
The Dark Mechanicum demigod stared at Godzilla's tail. Energy pulsed across it at terrifying intensity, yet it wasn't even an organ designed for output. Godzilla dragged his tail forward, the movement echoing the ancient motion of a warrior dragging a blade.
"No matter what trick this is, it won't defeat Gatron in one blow. Gatron—stop him."
The daemon engine bellowed and charged like a bull, relying on regeneration to wear Godzilla down. By any measure, Gatron was incredible. He had held Godzilla at bay for over half an hour. In a tokusatsu episode, he'd have filled half the runtime as the main villain.
But he had underestimated Godzilla.
The instant Gatron entered range, Godzilla's spines flared.
'I'll cut you in two!!!'
He spun, tail sweeping at supersonic speed. Gatron moved to grapple—expecting a normal strike. Instead, a flash of cold light cut the air.
The daemon froze.
"???"
Vashtorr blinked. "Why aren't you moving, Gatron?"
Then he saw it.
A diagonal line across Gatron's waist. Perfectly clean. Too clean to notice at first glance. Slowly, the upper half of Gatron's body slid away from the lower half.
The bisected core, once hidden in his chest, glowed for an instant—then detonated. Warp energy erupted outward, consuming what remained of his body.
"It's over."
Vashtorr's words were bitter. Gatron was gone.
"…"
The soldiers of Cadia were speechless.
"Did you see that?"
"Better sword skills than our instructors!"
"I wish I had a weapon like that—cut the enemy clean in half with one strike!"
Even as they spoke, more Chaos cruisers slammed into Cadia's surface, destroying the last remaining Blackstone arrays. Godzilla only glanced at the impacts. He couldn't stop them.
'It's insane. Warships crashing into a planet like meteor strikes.'
[Better to say you forced him to throw warships at the ground.]
The arrays fell one by one. When the final one collapsed, Abaddon's laughter shook the comms.
"I've won! Do you hear me, Godzilla?! I won this round! Hahahaha!"
From the Eye of Terror, warp energy poured unchecked. Countless daemon portals opened across the void and Cadia's surface. Daemons of all Four Powers surged forth in terrifying numbers—greater even than those of the Webway War.
"Cadia is finished," Trazyn muttered. "Mechanicus sage, how close are you?"
"There's just one last adjustment."
Cawl's hands moved feverishly across the towering armor before him—the Armor of Destiny, key to Roboute Guilliman's resurrection.
"Then there's nothing we can do but hold."
Trazyn sighed. His mind drifted to his collection: a company of 30K-era Ultramarines, an Emperor's Custodian, even a certain infamous Inquisitor. He could release them—but none could hold back this flood for long.
"You must hurry. Before the Webway Gate collapses, we still have a chance."
"I'll finish it," Cawl said. He had promised Guilliman, and he would keep that oath.
"Fortunately, Godzilla still holds the field," Trazyn added, though his gaze lingered on the warp storm pressing in from orbit.
Godzilla stared upward at the swirling maelstrom, warp energies like a tidal whirlpool threatening to consume the planet.
'Cawl still hasn't finished the Armor of Destiny?'
[Almost. A little more time.]
On the plains below, daemons poured in—a tide of red, purple, blue, green, and pink horrors. Dozens of Greater Daemons already pressed the front, and more emerged with every passing second.
'The Four are throwing everything at this.'
[And yet—because their energy has reached this place, it means one thing.]
"Finally," Isis whispered, "I can let go."
The suppression of the Blackstone was gone. Her psychic powers surged to their full, terrible breadth. The ocean of daemons did not frighten her. Even those equal to her in strength—she faced them without hesitation.
"My god hasn't left. That means this fight must be won."
She struck her staff into the earth, psychic power rippling outward.
"Priests of the ancient slumber, awaken. Rise, and fulfill the will of our god."
The first to stir was the oldest of the Lizardmen priests.
Croca.
"I have slept too long."
The moment her eyes opened, the air shook. Even Vashtorr flinched. The psychic weight was on par with a demigod.
"I will carry out the will of Godzilla. I will bring despair and finality to our enemies."
She raised her arms. Her psychic aura was so vast it bent even the Eye of Terror's suffocating presence.
And then—
"Ahhhhhhh!"
Her chant rose like a soprano, pure and terrible. The skies darkened. Daemons looked upward in confusion. Above them, a vast psychic impact took form—like a meteor large enough to blot out the battlefield sky.
Even the Greater Daemons of Tzeentch froze in horror.
The psychic comet fell, and a towering mushroom cloud of pure warp-burned mindfire rose. The battlefield glowed like a psychic nuclear detonation.
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