Chapter 669: I Am His Champion, I Am the Imperial Crown Army

“Do I speak illogically? I always speak logically—sometimes less so, but even when I’m illogical, I’m still logical; it’s just that the logic isn’t clear, so it seems illogical.”

“Fabius, this medicine of yours is a bit good, but also a bit bad—if it were better, it’d be good, but it’s just not good enough, though I still think it’s quite good.”

“Honestly, I feel fantastic—when I’m not in pain, I’m not in pain at all, but when I am in pain, I’m not in pain either, you know?”

Abaddon’s chaotic words blared from the massive speaker mounted on the Hellbeast, a speaker and six drug pumps the size of gasoline tanks on Abaddon’s back—all new modifications by Fabius.

Adron’s pale flesh trembled slightly from the gusts of air blasting from Abaddon’s speaker; he had initially tried to decipher the meaning behind Abaddon’s words, even suspecting the Hellbeast’s perception had been heightened by the drugs, and he was now making prophecies through his connection to the Warp.

But soon Adron realized Abaddon was simply babbling nonsense, as if his mind had been burned out by the drugs.

“The dosage is too high!” Adron said firmly to Fabius Bael, staring at the six drug tanks on Abaddon’s back.

Fabius glanced at Adron with disdain: “He’s a Hellbeast—flesh and shell fused as one. Naturally, he requires a greater dosage.”

“Then there’s something wrong with this drug!” Adron insisted, his tone unwavering.

“Are you questioning my research?” Fabius Bael sneered. “This drug was extracted and refined from an extremely precious genetic sequence—a miracle of the galaxy. When infused into flesh, it automatically empties the mind during Warp intrusion, discarding thought entirely to block the Warp’s illusions.”

“I can guarantee its efficacy—I’ve conducted numerous animal trials.”

“Animals?” Adron frowned in confusion.

He hadn’t expected Fabius Bael to conduct animal experiments at all.

“Didn’t you try it on humans?” he asked.

“I did—once. After injection, their intelligence dropped to animal levels,” Fabius said, glancing away.

“Resistant to the Warp, but lowers IQ? Are you sure this isn’t from an Ork gene sequence?” Adron asked, frowning.

“Impossible. I ran a full genetic scan—the original host’s intelligence was clearly intact.”

Fabius shook his head:

“The sample size is too small. Perhaps insufficient willpower caused this severe… logical disarray.”

“Want to try a shot yourself?”

Fabius Bael smiled at Adron.

Adron subtly stepped back, waving off the offer.

Fabius calmly set down the syringe.

“Regardless, I’ve successfully curbed Abaddon’s ferocity, suppressed the eight demons constantly tearing at his body, and restored his ability to understand speech and move with relative freedom.”

“Vashtor’s craftsmanship is exquisite. This Hellbeast possesses terrifying raw power—and now, with my further modifications, no mortal could stand against him.”

“The cost? Merely a slight loss of intellect.”

Adron looked skeptically at the Hellbeast: “Do you remember who you are?”

From within the Hellbeast came a garbled roar: “I am I am the First Captain of the Shadow Wolves, Abba Abba Abba Abaddon!”

But moments later, he seemed to realize his mistake and hastily corrected himself:

“No—I’m not the Shadow Wolves. Lokken is the Shadow Wolves. I am… I am the Sons of Horus!”

“No, I’m not a son! I’m a father! I’m Horus’s Dad!”

“No, Horus’s Dad is the False Emperor—I get it now. I’m Horus’s Step-Dad!”

Adron stared blankly at Abaddon, instinctively stepping back, glancing warily around.

“If the Warmaster were still alive, he’d beat him to a pulp, inch by inch,” Adron said, recalling the Warmaster’s might from the Great Crusade era.

“Even so, he won’t die. The Warp grants him extraordinary vitality—allowing me to unleash my creativity.”

Fabius Bael smiled, gazing at the Hellbeast beside him.

His eyes flickered slightly; drugs automatically pumped into Abaddon’s body, blending with hormones and neurotransmitters to modulate his emotions.

“This awakens his hatred—shows him whom to hate, whom to slaughter.”

“As long as he kills, that’s enough. After all, our Black Warmaster has spent ten thousand years proving himself a fool.”

Adron nodded in full agreement. In his view, Abaddon was a pure fool. Leaving aside the first twelve Black Crusades, Abaddon’s thirteenth—his proudest achievement—was, to Adron, the height of stupidity.

Many things changed after Abaddon’s solo campaign during the thirteenth Black Crusade.

Before the Great Rift opened, warbands could harass the Imperium at will, torment loyalist chapters, and roam the galaxy freely, causing chaos.

After the Great Rift opened, Chaos warbands poured forth from the Eye of Terror—only to face Archangel Sanguinius, Regent Roboute Guilliman, Lion El’Jonson, the Ascended Saint Doraemon, and the million-strong Adeptus Astartes of the Primaris. It was as if the False Emperor had lured the rebels out of the Eye of Terror just to slaughter them.

Even hiding within the Eye of Terror, they’d suddenly be ambushed by flaming skeletons. Adron even began to suspect: the opening of the Great Rift was the False Emperor’s scheme, carried out through Abaddon’s hands.

Abaddon’s body shuddered slightly; faint, indistinct sounds emerged from his speaker.

Within his steel frame, Abaddon’s mangled body bathed in drugs and hormones—his hatred awakened by the chemicals.

The first face to surface in his vision was Fulgrim’s pale countenance, lips curled in mocking amusement.

It was he—Fulgrim—who had brought Abaddon to this ruin.

“Fulgrim. Fulgrim.”

Abaddon’s roar blasted from the speaker. Fabius Bael nodded in satisfaction.

But Fabius did not know that Fulgrim was not the only face now rising before Abaddon.

A bald head tattooed with scripture, the last Shadow Wolf, the False Emperor, the Rock—countless figures flickered in Abaddon’s vision.

Yet in the end, his gaze fixed upon a black knight wielding a black sword.

The black knight stared at him, eyes burning with endless rage, charged with the hatred of a mortal enemy.

“Sigeismund.”

Abaddon whispered.