The Black Legion's flagship, the Vengeful Spirit, hung suspended in a boundless void.
Around it, countless Chaos warships floated.
These Chaos warships were covered in flesh, overgrown with eyes and fangs, while others had grotesque and distorted Warp creatures clinging to their surfaces.
This was an extremely terrifying military force, capable of easily conquering a sector and crushing all resistance.
Abaddon, the Warmaster, stood on the Bridge, planning his next campaign, pondering how to utterly destroy the Imperium of Man.
Since the fall of Cadia, Abaddon had ordered the Crimson Crusade, fighting many battles solely to open the path to Terra, to completely end the rule of the False Emperor, and to accomplish what Horus had failed to do.
However, with Guilliman's return and the rise of that Saint, many battles had been lost.
The Chaos forces' offensive was thwarted, and the Imperium of Man, which was already half-buried, rapidly grew in strength.
If this trend continued, it would only be a matter of time before the situation reversed.
His capable subordinate, Kayvaan, was still imprisoned on Terra!
Before launching the Thirteenth Black Crusade, he was full of vigor, believing victory was within his grasp.
Thus, he sent Kayvaan alone to Terra to surrender to the Inquisition.
This act was solely to tell those damned High Lord that the Imperium was doomed and Chaos would win the final victory.
Of course, the outcome of the Thirteenth Black Crusade was as he had predicted: Cadia fell smoothly, the Great Rift was opened, tearing the entire galaxy apart.
Immediately afterward, he relentlessly launched the Crimson Crusade, heavily wounding the loyalist factions of the Imperium, driving them back step by step, all the way to Terra.
However, Guilliman's return disrupted many plans that should have proceeded smoothly.
The Indomitus Crusade he launched thwarted the Crimson Crusade, recapturing important resource planets.
Many Chaos warbands were routed and suffered heavy casualties by the counterattacking Imperial forces.
The Crimson Crusade was now completely bankrupt.
For now, Kayvaan would just have to remain on Terra.
When the situation reversed in the future, then they could talk about invading Terra.
Abaddon withdrew his many thoughts, surveyed the Bridge of the Vengeful Spirit, basking in its magnificent glory.
Looking out through the portholes, countless arch-cannons of exaggerated caliber were arrayed along the warship's edges.
Some of these giant cannons were so exaggerated that an entire Imperial Knight could fit inside them.
The malevolent servitors of the Dark Mechanicum were fused within the thick, pipe-like internal organs.
The Warp flames spewing from the gargoyle-like vents of this magnificent warship tore through the mortal firmament.
And the iron grates beneath his feet were stained dark brown with blood.
These dripping bloodstains were marks of history; many Imperial heroes had bled here, some even from the Emperor and Sanguinius.
Thinking of this, Abaddon smiled, looking down at the Talon of Horus mounted on his hand, savoring the memories of Primarchs slain by it, relishing them once more.
The Daemon Sword Drach'nyen trembled behind the Despoiler, envious of the glory of its rival weapon in that moment.
"Alright, you will also have the chance to drink the blood of a Primarch, and even the blood of the Emperor himself."
Abaddon appeased the Daemon Sword, which slowly calmed its rage.
"Show me the galactic situation."
Abaddon turned to his subordinate sorcerer and said.
"As you wish, Despoiler."
The sorcerer bowed respectfully, then, with many Dark Sorcerers, began to cast a spell.
Some loyalists in tattered uniforms were dragged forward.
Their throats were slit, and their crimson blood sprayed onto the Chaos array, making its emitted light grow brighter.
"You will perish!" a ragged female officer captive cried out, "The God-Emperor will surely triumph! Humanity cannot be defeated!"
Her shouts brought a mocking smile to Abaddon's face.
"Your words make me laugh, poor wretch."
"No one can defeat me, not even the Chaos Gods."
The eight-pointed star carved into the floor glowed crimson, its lines intertwining to display the conditions of various regions of the galaxy.
Abaddon surveyed the many images floating before him, then reached out and pointed to one.
The image automatically drifted before the Despoiler.
Faint howls formed a melody of pain, constantly emanating from the image.
In the hellish glare, a brutal battlefield scene unfolded.
Countless corpses piled up like mountains, screaming beasts roamed the ruins, howling at the sky.
The Imperial Aquila banner lay fallen on the ground, then ignited in roaring flames.
Countless worlds burned, engulfing cities in darkness.
Abaddon's stern face showed a satisfied smile.
"After the fall of Cadia, the Emperor's realm was cut at the throat; it should have bled madly until death."
Thinking of this, Abaddon's eyes suddenly grew gloomy.
All of this was to blame on Guilliman and that Saint.
If not for them, the Imperium would have long since been utterly destroyed.
Abaddon suppressed the emotions in his heart, waved his hand to make the image dissipate, then examined another image.
"I will succeed. The age of the Primarchs is a thing of the past."
"One day, they will all kneel before me."
"Whether it's Guilliman or Leman Russ, they will all become my defeated foes."
Abaddon vowed in a low voice; he would never give up like this.
He could spend ten thousand years crippling the Imperium, and he could spend another ten thousand years defeating the Primarchs.
Just as Abaddon was about to continue viewing the images and focusing on the important war zones, a hellish light suddenly flickered, and the image tilted strangely.
A psychic shockwave, mixed with anger and panic, erupted, sweeping across the entire Bridge of the Vengeful Spirit.
"What's happening?!"
Abaddon cried out, looking up and around, finding the sorcerers conducting the ritual kneeling on the ground, their faces contorted in pain, constantly groaning.
Chaos warriors in Terminator armor rushed in through the doorway, protecting the Despoiler.
But the next second, they were all sent flying by a sudden burst of psychic power.
A strong wind, carrying bright light, formed a storm, throwing everyone on the Bridge into the air.
Grotesque flesh fused with cables shrieked piercingly, terrified by the dreadful pressure it felt.
A dozen tall figures appeared in the center of the storm.
The three leading figures were extraordinarily tall, like gods descended to the mortal realm.
They were Magnus, Fulgrim, and Lorgar, three Daemon Primarchs.
After reaching a consensus for cooperation on the Sorcerer World, they quickly took action.
To deal with Guilliman, Leman Russ, and that Saint, they needed an army capable of rivaling the Imperium.
Thus, they set their sights on the Black Legion assembled by Abaddon.
This legion had absorbed most of the Chaos forces and was the most troublesome Chaos army for the Imperium of Man.
Controlling this legion would naturally allow them to contend with the Imperial forces.
Magnus directly cast a spell on the Sorcerer World, using his powerful psychic abilities to transport himself, his two brothers, and his sons directly onto the Vengeful Spirit.
Abaddon's eyes widened instantly at the appearance of the three Primarchs.
What?!
What the hell is this?
Why aren't those three staying in the Eye of Terror? What are they doing out here?
"I didn't expect so many years to have passed, and Abaddon has already become a Warmaster," Lorgar said, looking down at Abaddon, who was guarded by Terminator warriors.
"Lorgar." Abaddon stared directly at him.
Ten thousand years ago, he certainly wouldn't have had such courage.
But now, times had changed; it was no longer the age of the Primarchs.
It was the age belonging to him, the Despoiler.
"From now on, the Black Legion will be under our command," Magnus said, looking at Abaddon and issuing his command.
"No!" Abaddon angrily refused, "The Black Legion is mine! You have no right to command it!"
"You have no choice."
Magnus extended a hand, and Abaddon was gripped by an invisible hand at his throat.
Immediately after, he was lifted into the void by an unseen force.
Invisible forces came from all directions, squeezing his war-plate until it groaned in agony.
If he was unwilling to surrender power, Magnus would not mind crushing him into a pulp.
A host of Chaos warriors and sorcerers tried to rush forward to rescue their master.
But Fulgrim and Lorgar stepped forward, looking at those Chaos warriors and sorcerers.
Their mere gaze filled these individuals with fear, making them dare not advance.
"Alright, I agree."
Abaddon, on the verge of suffocating, used his last ounce of strength to force out the words he wanted to say.
As his words fell, Abaddon was violently flung away, crashing heavily onto the floor with a dull thud.
"You know what's good for you," Magnus said, his voice cold.
Abaddon struggled to his feet, looking at Magnus but daring not to show the slightest resistance.
Even with the blessings of the Chaos Gods, he couldn't truly stand against a Daemon Primarch.
"What about you?" Magnus surveyed the Chaos warriors and sorcerers.
Those individuals exchanged glances, then dropped to one knee, pledging their loyalty to the three Daemon Primarchs.
Seeing this, Lorgar smiled with satisfaction.
"Excellent. Let's get to the point: how to deal with Guilliman and Leman Russ."
"We need to find a suitable location to set a trap."
Lorgar extended his hand, and the Chaos eight-pointed star emitted an even brighter radiance.
The light outlined the galaxy's star map in the void.
The Great Rift, tearing through the entire galaxy, was particularly conspicuous.
"Let's choose here," Lorgar said, pointing to the star map.
It was the Nakmund Corridor, which connected the Imperium Nihilus and the Segmentum Solar.
"As long as we cut this off, we can completely sever the Imperium Nihilus's connection with Terra, and our father will lose half of his territory."
"When a full-scale war erupts here and the Imperial forces are mired in the quagmire, I will use Guilliman's adoptive parents to force him to walk into the trap alone, thus defeating them one by one."
… … … …
Ghomorra.
Alex stood atop a magnificent Imperial building, overlooking this bustling Webway city.
After such a long period of reconstruction, the city had once again regained its former prosperity.
Ark Eldar and humans coexisted harmoniously here.
Countless ships arrived daily through the Webway, using Ghomorra as a transit point to other regions of the galaxy.
Most of them were Eldar ships; the Imperium of Man's fleet still primarily used the Warp for travel.
But Alex believed that, with time, more and more human fleets would inevitably use the Webway for passage.
During this time, the Webway repair project had also made significant progress, with several large Webway paths leading to the Imperium Nihilus being cleared.
Currently, small-scale fleets had already passed through, proving these Webway paths were viable.
This meant that the Imperium of Man now had the confidence to break free from the Nakmund Corridor.
"It's time to set a trap for Abaddon. As long as I can retrieve the fragments of Sanguinius's soul scattered within the Vengeful Spirit, I can fully resurrect him."
Alex planned his next move, intending to resurrect Sanguinius first.
By then, the Imperium would have three Primarchs.
"It feels like the Second Empire is re-emerging," Alex muttered to himself.
Surely the other Primarchs aren't planning another The Battle of Terra, are they?
Only these three didn't participate, hiding aside to build a new empire.
Alex wanted to summon Eldrad and the Avatar of the Laughing God, then connect with Guilliman and Leman Russ to discuss the Battle of the Nakmund Corridor.
How to lure Abaddon.
How to seize the Vengeful Spirit.
How to save Sanguinius.
And after the Nakmund Corridor was destroyed, how the Imperium of Man should seamlessly transition to the Webway.
Once in the Webway, how should the transit rights between humans and Eldar be determined?
All these issues needed to be thoroughly discussed.
Just as Alex stood up, preparing to convene a meeting, he suddenly remembered something else, so he summoned Cortana.
"Oh, right, Cortana, issue rewards to Desert and the other Players' organizations who participated in the Koronus Expanse, especially those involved in capturing Erebus. Each Player team will receive a bronze eagle medal."
Alex was also somewhat surprised to learn that Desert and the others had captured Erebus.
The worst guy in the entire galaxy had actually been caught.
If he hadn't actually seen the videos and photos, and had Cortana verify it, Alex would have thought Desert and the other Players were joking, just having fun.
After all, what kind of existence was Erebus? His escape skills were arguably the best in the galaxy.
His main trick was to cause trouble and then run.
"Understood, Master." Cortana nodded and turned to get busy.
Meanwhile, on Atoma, the thirteenth batch of Players had also come online.
Accompanied by flashes of light, Players appeared one after another in the spacious squares and churches.
Soon, the places were packed with people.
These Players, like the previous twelve batches, were thoroughly shocked by the completely realistic game world of Warhammer OL.
For a moment, exclamations rose and fell.
"Holy cow, this air, this light and shadow."
"I'm uncultured; I can only use 'awesome' to describe it."
"…"
Of course, many Players also made bizarre moves.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Thunder constantly appeared.
Occasionally, a violating Player would be struck into charcoal.
"I came, I conquered, brothers, for the Emperor!"
One Player raised his arm and shouted, eliciting responses from other Players. For a moment, shouts roared like clouds, their voices shaking the sky.