Chapter 573: On the Thickness of Abaddon's Skin

The glow of the plasma seemed ready to boil the entire world; the iron-ring robots basked in its spilling light and heat, their shells faintly melting, yet causing the Void Dragon imprisoned within to feel as if it had briefly returned to the energy sea that gave it birth.

The Void Dragon longed for that moment, for the time when it merged with the universe, its boundaries blurred, yearning to be immersed once more in the warm tides of energy, like a child yearning to return to the warmth of amniotic fluid.

The present reality was too cold—in truth, unsuitable for a Star God's survival—so the Void Dragon had sought to use the Black Stone to seize the near-infinite energy of the Warp, to boil reality anew and return all things to the warmth of creation's dawn.

Its plan had not yet truly begun when the Necrons betrayed it, shattered it, leaving only its consciousness fleeing in panic, hidden within a single shard.

Then, before it could attempt its plan again, it encountered on a remote planet a primitive warrior riding a horse and wielding a silver spear, who speared it straight to Mars, where it remained sealed ever since.

Now it would not make the same mistake again—it unleashed its full power, the maximum this shard could contain.

Hm?

The Void Dragon suddenly sensed something different—why was the surrounding temperature still rising? Why was the plasma beam striking the ground growing brighter?

Was it… bouncing back and striking it?

The Void Dragon stared blankly at the ground, where within the searing plasma tide, Lion El'Jonson drew from beneath his cloak a small, crimson cloak.

The cloak had nothing special about it—just an ordinary, thin silk fabric, untouched by even a trace of Warp energy.

From the Void Dragon's perspective, it was merely an ordinary piece of cloth.

Everything in the material universe fell under the Void Dragon's control; the power of the Warp was suppressed by the surrounding Black Stones.

Logically, such a cloth should possess no special properties whatsoever.

Yet Lion El'Jonson swung the cloth like a matador, gently brushing it against the plasma tide descending upon him.

BOOM!!!!!

The crimson cloak collided with the plasma tide, spraying forth scorching electric sparks.

Before the plasma heat capable of melting ceramite, adamantium, even gold-steel, the cloak remained utterly unscathed.

In the Void Dragon's bewildered gaze, the pale plasma was effortlessly deflected by the cloak, reversing direction and hurtling back toward the Void Dragon.

"*Star God profanity*" the Void Dragon could not help but curse aloud.

The iron-ring robots forged by Perturabo were drowned in the bright plasma flood, melting in an instant, their particles utterly shredded into microscopic fragments by relentless bombardment.

In that same instant, a silver figure emerged from the melting iron-ring robot.

The General's Cannon had shattered the iron-ring robot—and directly unsealed the chains Perturabo had bound upon the Void Dragon.

A slender, muscular, elegant, flawless body—untouched by the Warp—emerged from the plasma tide, glowing with emerald luster like molten silver not yet cooled, jagged fissures running across its form spewing arcs of electricity.

The Void Dragon flared its sharp Black Stone wings behind it, basking in the high-temperature plasma.

These extreme-energy particles harmed it not at all; instead, they filled it with profound comfort—it had been born in the searing heat of the universe's dawn.

Yet the Void Dragon did not linger in the pleasure of this fleeting warmth; it had just been unsealed, at its most vulnerable, and needed to hide swiftly in a safe place, slowly restore its power, then journey to Mars to break the seal on its primary consciousness.

With this thought, its tail—fused from Black Stone and living metal—lashed violently, reversing gravity in an instant; the Void Dragon shot skyward like a cannonball, aiming to escape the atmosphere and reach the boundless deep void.

Feeling the air around it grow ever thinner, the Void Dragon sneered inwardly.

Still just monkeys, clinging to primitive technology—how could they possibly harm a god of the material universe? They had merely helped break Perturabo's chains, granting it freedom.

Had a Necron Overlord stood before it now, holding a hyperdimensional cube prison, the Void Dragon would have been a prisoner once more—

A crackle of electricity suddenly sounded before the Void Dragon; its surroundings warped, and a metallic figure glowing with green light burst from a folded pocket dimension, blocking its path.

The Infinite One, Tarsis, emitted a cold, clacking laugh; before the Void Dragon could react, its hyperdimensional cube prison split into four segments, emerging around it with a roar of emerald lightning, weaving an energy net that crushed down upon the Void Dragon.

The Void Dragon let out a terrified roar—it could not fathom how Tarsis had precisely predicted its escape trajectory.

It struggled, unleashing its full power, trying to break free of the hyperdimensional cube prison's restraint.

The living metal forming the cube prison was torn layer by layer by the Void Dragon, yet the cube extended metallic tendrils that rapidly drained the Void Dragon's power to repair itself, then twisted into chains binding the Void Dragon itself.

The Void Dragon let out a piercing shriek—but it was useless.

The hyperdimensional cube snapped shut, becoming a glowing green pyramid, sealing the Void Dragon's shard utterly within.