Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 573 Who is it?
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Ahriman and his nine followers, the Supreme Sorcerers, immediately realized that things were not simple when the dark blue energy halberds, the special long-handled energy axes and the demon-killing storm bombs with special dust added inside suddenly appeared from the darkness behind them and began to sweep away all the witchcraft products and the lifeless creatures in the warp like cutting melons and vegetables.

The targeting of these weapons was too obvious. They were obviously prepared for occasions like today, and just as they were expected, they were wielded here at will, breaking through the protective spells hastily cast by the wizards in panic, slicing through the original protection on the surface of those ancient ceramic steel armors. When the energy blades were swung down, they could not only smoothly split the flesh of demons and Chaos warriors and annihilate their metaphysical mass, but also split the abnormal fog that had accumulated in the Webway for billions of years and had been bothering travelers.

When the ancient primitive chaos contained in these mists was killed, there were bursts of dazzling lightning, huge noises and strange and unpleasant smells. To humans, they sounded like the rolling thunder in the sky before the lightning, the collision of Huangzhong and Dalu, the earth-shattering sound of a horn, the roar of a tiger, the howl of a jackal, and the shout of one or a group of humans; they smelled like rotten eggs, fragrant flowers and dust that decayed and dissolved in a crystal bottle, dried herbs and a mixture of frankincense and myrrh soaked in blood.

The pale blue energy blades, when swung at high speed, splashed their light like the brilliant light of the rising sun. The light of this strange energy weapon was even bright enough to sting the observer's naked eyes.

Defenders and attackers alike could hear never-before-heard war cries rising from the deeper darkness, chants of litanies incredibly bright and deep.

The dark blue dots and strips of light and the dancing circles of the halberd and axe blades gradually spread out from one point, lit up, merged, grew longer, and became larger, just like a dark blue sun rising from the darkness before dawn. Among the Imperials, only the Black Templars and the Sisters of Battle raised their heads and looked into the distance with some kind of sacred ecstasy.

A giant in distinctive silver armor was sweeping through the bloodless, fleshless, or lifeless army of the exiled betrayers, his blue goggles flashing and his storm-killing bombs roaring.

There was a cheer among the surviving Astra Militarum troops. Although they did not recognize the silver power armor of these sudden reinforcements, it was obvious that their well-equipped Terminator armor belonged to some variant style of the Emperor's Angels Order. Each of them seemed to be able to control powerful forces, were not afraid of the wizards' spells, and their attacks were highly targeted. Every blow could cut down a Rubric Warrior or cause serious injuries to a Sekhmet Terminator, as if what was in front of them was not a powerful army of dead souls, but mortal bodies without any enhancement.

The embers of the fallen warriors and demons were still burning. Ashes drifted in the darkness. The crackling explosions of demon-killing bombs were like the muffled thuds of thousands of bones being broken. The piercing and terrifying roars echoed one after another in the ruins.

The Terminator Wizard and the nine Supreme Wizards did not sit still and wait for death. They each used their magical powers and turned their attacks towards these suddenly appearing powerful enemies.

The environment in the broken webway is so special, the Warp and these demon warlocks are so closely integrated that they can drive their psychic powers at will without paying too much cost. Some summon more armies of the Unliving to try to trap the other side, some chant time curses to trip up the hands and feet of the reinforcements, and some begin to summon unclean lightning, sorcerously transformed flames, or the forced gaze of Chaos, trying to corrupt, distort and destroy these strange Astartes. Those wizards who are proficient in time spells cast exquisite magic to manipulate the flow of time, trying to uncover the dice cover that fate has covered in the gamble of this battle, and to gain the result of victory by peeking at the dice points of the fate of both sides - in the end, these people died the fastest and most violently.

Fast and fierce means that as soon as these wizards began to try to get a glimpse of each other's fate, they immediately dropped their staffs, dropped their flying discs or mounts, and began to grab their faces and howl. Flames, just like the flames that burned Prospero, burned from their bodies from the inside out, burning from their eyes, noses, mouths, and every hole in their bodies, as if the fate that they had escaped ten thousand years ago had caught up with them again.

No matter what school they were good at or what cult they belonged to, no matter how many protective spells and hiding places they had added before or now, and how many magic arrays, magic weapons, relics, and artifacts they activated at this moment to escape and hide the world, all these things became ineffective. The light of the magic array flickered and went out like a charcoal fire without oxygen. The relics and artifacts became dull and gray, as if they had lost their vitality and metaphysical connotations. Naturally, their effectiveness was also lost, and they became their own dead appearance.

The remaining members of the Exiles warband were terrified, because each of them felt the "real death" of their companions who died from the weapons of these attackers or the backlash. - A death more terrible than the killing of the body and the withering of the soul - they realized that the impressions and memories of these companions in their minds were madly fading, and these attacks would eventually make the dead as if they had never appeared in this universe.

Such a level of destruction even made the most powerful of the Great Daemons stop in their tracks, they too felt the real threat of death, the Lords of Change exchanged glances and slowly retreated to the rear of the army, while the remaining wizards and Supreme Sorcerers gathered around the Chosen of Tzeentch, because only the area around Azek Ahriman showed traces of his powerful and genius power against the opposite silver army. It was also a circular protective circle, but this time the offense and defense were different, and those hiding in the protective circle were the Thousand Sons Chaos Sorcerers who thought they were orioles but were actually mantises.

"Go there." Ahriman remained calm. He pointed to the defensive circle of the human defenders.

"Won't that mean we'll be attacked from both sides?" asked one of his men.

"No, they will be our hostages. My power is enough to isolate the inside and outside. There is no opponent among them. Although the protective shield is powerful, it is very simple. I can circumvent the rule with some time, yes." The former Chief Librarian of the Thousand Sons and now the Lord of the Exiles replied, "If you still want to continue to doubt me, then go forward and try their psychic blades yourself."

As expected, the doubters immediately shut their mouths. The wizards cut through the air, crossed the space, and stood outside the defense circle of the Imperial defenders in the smell of ozone and dead flowers. They even had a few wizards with flashing figures bypass the fragile walls of the Webway and arrived between the defenders and the Webway gate, completely surrounding them.

The wizards and traitors were so close to them that the eyes of the Black Templars' warriors were shining red. Fanatical faith and rage for revenge aroused wave after wave of passion for dedication in their hearts. Although the sisters were wounded, they were also excited and wanted to continue attacking and kill as many enemies of the Emperor as possible. Only the timely blocking of the Living Saints with their wings and the careful listening of the sacred prophecies prevented them from immediately rushing over to inflict the sacred punishment of the Emperor's Sword on these traitors, the most hateful and unforgivable wizards.

"Don't go." She said, a white dove surrounded the calm and smooth face of the living saint, and roses were blooming and withering in her hands and feet holding the hilt of the sword. "I feel the voice from the unknown, don't go. They will be forced to face the fate they have been avoiding for a long time. This is what they deserve."

"That sounds great if there's retribution, but what can we do now? Even our way to the door is blocked. How the hell did they get through?"

"It's no surprise that some of Tzeentch's minions are masters of seeing countless outcomes and methods in the future, but we haven't had time to move ourselves. This all happened too fast."

"Yeah." The Inquisitor muttered, frowning, "This damn thing looks like a series of traps and conspiracies. None of them are worth trusting, and neither are you."

"Although you have been speaking harshly, Inquisitor." The living saint who looked like a girl still replied calmly, "But this is honest and straightforward, and I will not feel any offense. I can see that your heart in serving the Emperor and the Empire is so upright and pure, please always keep it."

"Tsk. I'll keep watching you. Until you reveal the same flaws as them, you pretentious heretic psychic witch." The Inquisitor's words attracted the angry glares of several warriors, but she was not afraid at all. She just turned her head and looked at the Archmagus with her gun in hand. "Archmagus, your cargo, I mean, if we can't keep it, have you set up any suitable safety devices for it?" "You can't fail to keep it!" The voice of the Archmagus sounded a little bit exasperated like a mortal, or it might just be an illusion, "This is a precious thing that I worked hard for ten thousand years to finally complete the task I received from a noble man! It is vital to the empire today! I abandoned my Mechanicus exploration fleet to cover our rear just to keep it! We have come here, you must keep it! Until we reach our destination!"

But the Inquisitor still stared at him with his eyes, so the Archsage of Domination muttered reluctantly, "I am such a genius, of course I have a back-up plan... But you don't need to ask more questions, and mortals like you can't explain my genius design."

"As long as there's insurance, that's fine." The Inquisitor nodded, "Then let's hold out here as long as we can... Huh?!"

Her voice, which had been cold and resolute since the beginning of the journey, had an uncontrolled rising ending for the first time.

People followed her gaze and saw that the reinforcements that had shattered the subordinates of the Thousand Sons and forced the great wizards, any one of whom could stir up a bloody witchcraft frenzy and heretical riots in a galaxy or even several sub-regions, into a defensive posture had already stepped out of the fog, and the searchlights on the Great Sage's vehicle illuminated their sacred bodies.

Extremely special bright silver Terminator power armor, equally rare energy weapons and bolters, shoulder armor without chapter emblems, armor decorated with demon codes, and armor engraved with countless arcane text records, the surface of which was embellished with exquisite gold and a little red. Fortunately, they saw the "I"-shaped emblem representing the Inquisition style and many pure holy seals, which made them secretly relieved - no matter what, this strange team should be friendly forces from the Empire, although most of them have never heard of or seen them.

But this was not the reason for the Inquisitor's surprised sound.

Her surprise came from the tallest and strongest warrior in the lead. He walked forward, faced the Thousand Sons wizards and the human defenders, stretched out his hand, and slowly took off his helmet. Under the silver crusader helmet, the power of the creature that could be felt for a moment was so strong that in the psychic vision of the Inquisitor, who was also a high-level psychic, he was so powerful... like a living interstellar psychic storm, or a burning star, which was condensed countless times and compressed into this small humanoid body.

Just thinking about such terrifying power and the fragility of the body that imprisoned it makes people feel the most ancient fear from the bottom of their hearts: facing the irresistible force between heaven and earth with nowhere to escape and the opponent may lose control at any time.

She unconsciously shifted her gaze slightly away: staring at him for too long would give her head a severe headache. Although this could also be used as a weapon, now was not the time and there was no need to make her condition worse.

"Huh?!" This voice of astonishment and surprise sounded almost at the same time as the Inquisitor's voice. There was also a commotion in the Thousand Sons' formation, and this voice came from Azek Ahriman, who seemed to be confident of victory from the beginning to the end. "Who are you?!"

But they didn't seem to be agitated by the comparison of psychic powers. The Inquisitor keenly noticed that their agitation was more due to seeing the... face of the mysterious silver-armored warrior?

They knew each other? The Inquisitor's heart was alarmed.

She turned her gaze back and moved it upwards as far as possible, blinking away the stinging tears in her eyes, and looked at the other person carefully: the warrior's expression was firm and resolute, his eyes were full of faith, determination and holy anger, but strangely, he had a somewhat elegant scholarly air. He had brown skin, black slightly curly hair, and typical looks of humans in the desert. Even though he was cut and torn by several faint scars, it did not destroy the overall beauty of his appearance. She even caught a glimpse of a faint blue eyeliner passing under the corners of his eyes - faint blue eyeliner?

She was suddenly startled and turned her gaze to Ahriman, who had calmed down and was staring at her blankly - there was a similar pattern in the place of his eyes on the ancient silver mask that concealed his face.

"Ahriman," the other said.

The Inquisitor blinked in confusion.

Then she felt cold all over, and she couldn't help shivering, and pulled the trigger of her weapon again.

Beside her, the living saint was silent, with his wings lowered, and a faint sigh seemed to float in the air.

The Inquisitor realized that the name was not meant to address the Chief Wizard.

He was answering the question just now.

--Who are you?

——Ahriman.

(End of this chapter)