Chapter Sixteen: The Spirit Clan

Abaddon and the old veterans of the Black Legion were now deeply unsettled, for standing before them were two gene-primarchs and a Custodian, their gazes locked in a tense standoff. Abaddon’s entire plan had unraveled. First, the Greater Daemon was severely wounded by two Space Marines; the daemon, initially targeting the primarchs, was then lured away by the taunts of the other Space Marines. Now, the Greater Daemon was being pummeled by dozens of Space Marines, pinned to the ground and mercilessly beaten.

Abaddon’s mind raced as he faced the gene-primarchs, but Wang Ming allowed him no time to think. Without hesitation, Wang Ming swung his massive golden sword toward Abaddon. He had wanted to kill Abaddon back on Cadia; the great blade became a streak of golden light, cleaving straight down at Abaddon’s head. Yet Abaddon, Chaos-blessed Warmaster that he was, reacted instantly. The sword missed him by a hair’s breadth, slicing off a chunk of his shoulder plate.

Just as Wang Ming’s first strike fell, Abaddon unleashed the corrupt power of Chaos, tearing open a rift in the Warp. In a flash, he and the Black Legion veterans teleported back to the Vengeful Spirit, leaving the Khorne Daemon behind to be battered by the interlopers on Clyssus’ soil. Abaddon knew full well he could not allow the primarchs to return to Terra, but with two of them present, he was outmatched. Only the Daemon Primarchs lurking in the depths of the Warp could hope to confront them.

Wang Ming stared, dumbfounded, at the suddenly empty icy wastes. He had never anticipated such speed from the Chaos Space Marines; even his own reflexes as a gene-primarch hadn’t kept pace, and Abaddon had escaped.

A sharp crack rang out as the ice shattered, and a hail of “star darts” shot toward the Chaos horde, beating back their assault. Wang Ming watched the star darts weave through the air, turning the tide against the Chaos forces, and finally allowed himself to breathe easy.

At last, the Harlequins had arrived. Now they could use the Webway to reach the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar and seek out the Thirteenth—then return to Terra together.

The interlopers, too, were well-versed in the unfolding events. Fighting side by side with the Harlequins, they delayed the Black Legion, buying precious time for the Imperial forces to withdraw into the Webway.

Having handed command of the battlefield to the Custodian and Fulgrim, Wang Ming descended beneath the Webway gate to speak with Cawl and the Harlequin leader, Yvraine.

In truth, the interlopers had no real chain of command; entrusting the Custodian and Fulgrim with leadership was little more than asking them to observe the battle and intervene when necessary.

It was worth noting that Wang Ming no longer required the Custodian to translate for him. After unlocking the “Market,” he had procured simultaneous translators for each interloper and himself—worn like collars around their necks, these devices automatically rendered Chinese into Gothic. At last, Wang Ming and the others faced no language barrier.

“What a magnificent sight,” Wang Ming remarked, gazing at the active Webway gate. The entrance was a colossal, bone-white ring, its center shimmering with rippling, watery energies. Above it, Saint Celestine hovered in the air, praying to the Emperor.

Wang Ming felt that the Webway gate was large enough to admit even a Titan, though he could not be certain. Whether a Titan could truly pass through remained to be seen.

“Magnificent, indeed. This is a great work of the ancient Aeldari Empire, human.” A woman’s voice came from behind him, speaking in Gothic with a strange accent but perfect pronunciation, rendered clear by Wang Ming’s translator.

He turned to see a woman in an exquisitely crafted robe, with a red-armored Aeldari warrior at her side. From her appearance, Wang Ming immediately recognized her—Yvraine, the Harlequin emissary of death.

Cawl, standing beside Wang Ming, eyed the xenos warily. He had no idea what these unexpected visitors wanted, or whether they posed a threat to the precious “cargo” in his care.

“These xenos mean no harm,” Wang Ming assured Cawl, urging him to relax.

“You are not in the prophecy,” another Aeldari appeared before Wang Ming, studying him intently.

This was Illic Nightspear, a figure Cawl recognized—she had once revealed the true nature of blackstone to him on Aelior VI.

“We have long been aware of your cargo and your intent to travel to Macragge to revive the primarch Guilliman,” Illic said to Cawl.

“That is correct, but what business is this of the Aeldari? What are your intentions?” Cawl’s surprise was brief; he quickly composed himself, glancing at Wang Ming before addressing Illic.

“We intend to form an alliance with humanity and aid you in reviving Guilliman,” Illic replied. “This Webway gate will take you to your destination—Macragge.”

Cawl listened closely and looked to Wang Ming for guidance. Though this gene-primarch had appeared without warning, every action he had taken thus far had been for the good of the Imperium.

“The Webway gate does indeed lead to the Macragge system. Let the troops move quickly,” Wang Ming said to Cawl.

Cawl nodded and relayed the order for the Imperial forces to advance through the Webway gate.