The moment Abaddon fell, the tens of thousands of elite Black Legion warriors in space felt an emptiness rise from their souls.
The icon of their faith had fallen.
The banner they had followed for ten thousand years had snapped.
The fanatical, twisted conviction that held the entire Black Legion together vanished in an instant, like a punctured balloon. Countless warriors stared blankly at the cold corpse on the asteroid, their Boltguns clattering to the ground.
Where... were they supposed to go now?
On the bridge of the Vengeful Spirit, Khayon watched the life sign go dark and remained silent for a long time. Finally, he slowly removed his helmet and offered an ancient military salute in that direction, one known only within the Luna Wolves.
"Farewell, Ezekyle," he said softly. Then he turned and gave his final order to the commanders still standing in stunned silence.
"Lay down your weapons."
"Our war... is over."
Elsewhere, the other Chaos Legions, which had been lurking at the edges of the battlefield waiting to reap the spoils, reacted in precisely the opposite way the moment Abaddon fell.
"Get out of here! That monster has finished Abaddon! We're next!" For the first time, a trace of panic entered Typhus's voice, which sounded like bubbles rising through a swamp. Without hesitation, he ordered his Plague Fleet to begin a Warp jump.
"Heh heh heh, what a dull ending." Lucius licked his lips. There was some disappointment in his eyes, but far more excitement. "A more perfect 'toy' has appeared. It seems I'll have to pay him a visit... when the time is right." The Emperor's Children fleet also slipped quietly into the void.
As for the World Eaters... their reaction was the most straightforward.
"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!"