Chapter 579: This Is the Hellbeast We

Abaddon let out the loudest scream of his life,

even when carrying the dying Horus on the planet Davin, he had never been this terrified,

"What are you doing! What are you doing?!"

"Vashthor!! What are you doing!!"

"What is this thing!! Don't let me get near it!!!"

Vashthor turned his head slightly, his eyes—like glowing furnace coals—flicking toward Abaddon inside the life-support capsule, as if waiting for Abaddon to ask exactly that question.

"These are the strongest demons bound to me, each belonging to seven of the eight corners of the Aether and intrinsically tied to the human species."

"Craving, addiction: humans once frenziedly consumed a crude addictive substance called opium, suffering, struggling, yearning, delighting, indulging—these emotions birthed it: the Demon of Ecstatic Perception, Poppy."

"Disease, life: humans discovered their first antibiotic in mold, a drug that saved countless lives from infection; their craving for medicine, life, and antibiosis birthed it: the Demon of Decay and Collapse, Penicillin."

"Killing, bloodlust: early human civilizations—nomadic and agrarian—constantly slaughtered each other; within this cycle of slaughter rose countless nomadic tribes, born from all the killing and being killed by one such tribe: the Demon of Unintentional Killing, Hun."

"Deception, fraud: humans are among the most skilled deceivers, hiding behind geometric progression to create a scheme that endlessly expands its downline to steal wealth; countless souls struggled and sank in this fraud, and from this emotion it was born: the Demon of Hellstorm, Pyramid Scheme."

"Destruction, efficiency: human craftsmanship in weapon-making earned my praise; in crafting weapons to destroy their own kind, they possess extraordinary talent, building automated slaughter machines from the dawn of civilization—it was born from humanity's first automated weapon: the Demon of Malicious Craftsmanship, Maxim."

"Hunger, gluttony: no civilization escapes the curses of greed and hunger; one of humanity's earliest greedy tribes forged a terrifying myth of hunger, in which their god tormented a civilization with ten plagues; born from the emotion of this myth: the Demon of Greed's Dissolution, Ten Plagues."

"Unnameable, unknowable: when humans entered their first golden age, convinced science and wisdom could unravel all mysteries, a gloomy sci-fi author perceived that human intellect was negligible before the vast cosmos; he carved out humanity's most primal fear of the unknown with his pen, birthing this demon: the Demon of Formless Distortion, The Unnameable."

Vashthor introduced the seven demons with passionate fervor, then pointed his finger at the demonic sword Delanicon, standing alongside the seven demons:

"Destruction, self-destruction: in a drifting field of wheat, kin slew kin; humans completed their first murder with a blade of obsidian, and from that cruel killing, it was born—the Demon of Corrosive Destruction, Delanicon."

"Eight domains, eight demons, the eight-pointed star: the eight largest domains of Chaos converge here; I shall use them to accomplish a great creation."

"I ASK YOU! WHAT IS THAT?! WHAT IS THAT?!" Abaddon roared, unable to bear it any longer—he had been trying to interrupt Vashthor, but Vashthor ignored him entirely, continuing his monologue about demons Abaddon didn't care about.

All he cared about was the mechanical construct surrounded by the eight demons,

though called a mechanical construct, it resembled more a hybrid of demon, flesh, and metal—black metallic armor fused onto sticky crimson flesh, each plate etched with screaming, wailing demon faces; these plates formed a heavy humanoid shape six to seven meters tall,

its torso was massive, like a horizontal iron coffin, inscribed with a chaotic eight-pointed star forged from black stone, while thick limbs—each a fusion of flesh and metal—were mounted around it,

its left arm was especially massive, nearly as tall as an Astartes clad in Terminator power armor, fitted with a clearly enlarged version of Horus's Claw,

its right hand was simpler, resembling a human hand but wider than even the Primarch's, fingers carved with rough patterns designed to grip weapons tightly.

Its "head" was recessed into the center of the torso, forming a hollow, pitch-black cavity where countless metal cables and fleshy tentacles writhed, as if waiting for some unlucky soul to be buried within.

"Tell me! Vashthor! What is this?! What is this!!"

Vashthor turned his head and said: "This is the healing tool I'll use shortly."

Abaddon was stunned by Vashthor's sheer audacity.

"This is a Hellbeast!!! A Hellbeast!!!"

Abaddon roared:

"What are you going to do to me?! Are you insane!!?!"

Though vastly larger, there was no doubt—it was a Hellbeast.

A Hellbeast is a unique Chaos substitute for a Dreadnought, yet far more ferocious, terrifying, and insane,

and the Space Marine entombed within suffers a fate a hundred or a thousand times worse than that of a Dreadnought,

their flesh fuses with this damned metal cage, their souls are imprisoned and tortured by demons of Hell, they wail and roar in eternal darkness until they go utterly mad.

Abaddon once strongly agreed with a Dimensional Smith's assessment:

A Hellbeast is pure hatred, the most potent weapon in the galaxy—this is precisely why we shall destroy the Imperium: our hatred is beyond their comprehension.

And the Hellbeast is the embodiment of that pure hatred, one of the Black Legion's most powerful weapons; those Chaos Astartes entombed within—even if not willingly—still made a noble sacrifice, becoming a sledgehammer driven into the heart of the Imperium.

But even so, if Abaddon himself were to be entombed in a Hellbeast, he would rather die.

"The Hellbeast is my tool to heal you."

Vashthor said calmly to Abaddon:

"Once entombed within the Hellbeast, you will rise again, unleashing your power without hindrance, returning to the battlefield, becoming a war machine nearly invincible."

"Aren't you always desperate to avenge yourself against the Emperor and the Imperium? This is your best chance!"

As he spoke, the Iron Warriors lifted the life-support capsule toward the Hellbeast.

"You cannot do this! I forbid it! I forbid it!" The broken Abaddon, powerless to resist, could only howl and scream in protest.

"I certainly can! Have you forgotten your contract?"

"Article 138 stipulates: Vashthor is obligated to treat Warlord Abaddon's current and future injuries in whatever manner he deems best, ensuring Abaddon remains in optimal condition to fulfill his duty of assisting Vashthor in collecting Key Fragments."

"And subsection six of Article 138's annotation: 'The phrase 'Vashthor deems best' grants Vashthor the right to select any technique he deems suitable, and to assure Abaddon of its efficiency and advancement.'"

A smile curled on Vashthor's lips: