Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 789 Then I'll ask you -
The lurking observers—Lamizane, Euphrates, and Loken—followed the attackers throughout the operation, while three others were instructed to stay further away to provide backup and avoid detection.

They followed them through streets of destroyed and burned houses, through deep green gardens that exuded a rich fragrance after being trampled, through ancient city walls, until they witnessed them boarding a Thunderhawk gunboat moored on a secluded headland on the other side of the bay hills.

"Now... what... what are you going to do?" Euphrates asked breathlessly, looking even paler as if she were ill, with only her eyes shining brightly in the darkness, reflecting the moonlight.

"They obviously have no choice but to return to orbit, but it's unclear which ship they intend to return to."

"...I think this is not surprising."

It was Loken who spoke, his voice sounding heavy and strained. "It must be the spirit of vengeance."

"Ah." Ramizane's face showed an expression of certainty; while Euphrates' face suddenly flushed red like someone suffering from tuberculosis. "How can you be so sure?!"

She screamed, her voice a desperate struggle, "The Spirit of Vengeance is the Warmaster's flagship! His most loyal sons, subordinates, and allies are all on it! If even the Spirit of Vengeance can't be trusted, who can we trust?! What gives you the right to accuse these loyal wolves?!"

"I saw it with my own eyes!" Gavial Locken finally lost his self-control for a moment due to the many shocking events of the night. He forcefully shook off the woman's hand that was holding him and pushed her away, almost causing her to fall to the ground.

“I saw it! That’s Azekel Abaddon’s helmet! It’s his regular power armor, which is why we didn’t recognize him at first! But he forgot, there’s no way I could mistake the full moon mark on that helmet!”

The moment Euphrates' blue eyes widened and he looked utterly distraught at the moment his colleague called out the name of one of the participants in this act that was completely contrary to the warlord's will and orders and bordered on treason.

She collapsed to the ground as if all her strength had been drained—not that Ramizan didn't try to help her up, but for some reason, the Lord of Steel dared not pull her up after his leg joints made a crisp "click."

Loken, however, calmed down immediately after shouting. He went over and bent down to help the thin, frail photographer up.

"I'm sorry... ma'am, I didn't mean it. I was too rough... are you alright?"

Her frilly blonde hair fell down, obscuring her face, and she remained silent.

After a while, she said softly, "I'm fine. Let's hurry up and find a way back to Vengeance. This matter is not so simple to resolve. If we want to form a complete and reliable chain of evidence, we need to see how they continue to operate in Vengeance."

“That makes sense,” Ramizam nodded.

After the trio met up with the other three, they immediately headed to the helipad in the foreign affairs area and boarded the Thunderhawk gunboat that Lucius had prepared in advance.

The swordsman, who had recently become quite famous (just kidding) in the 63rd Combined Fleet, proudly sat in the driver's seat and stepped on the non-existent accelerator—meaning he pushed the accelerator lever.

"Don't worry, I've already registered my round-trip itinerary and left the port legally, but with the speed of the Hidden Blade... wait?! What's that?!"

As they looked down through the gunboat's portholes at Zenobia, which was ablaze with fire, they saw a massive but fleeting burst of light flash across the city like an electric current passing through an integrated circuit.

"What's going on? What happened? What kind of light is that?" Ignas asked, while Messadi blinked frantically to take pictures.

"I don't know, but that happened on the ground. We'll find out about it later. Right now, whatever our reasons, we should prioritize returning to Vengeance."

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"This is truly...an unexpected surprise, or rather, a huge shock?"

Now, the three Primarchs have dismissed their respective followers and other unrelated persons from the room, leaving only themselves sitting in Horus's private parlor.

Saint Gilles folded his wings and looked at his brother with concern. No one could tell whether there was a hint of inquiry hidden in his expression, but his more urgent body language than usual slightly revealed his inner turmoil.

Compared to the Angel Lord, who was deeply troubled, the Primarch, who had just returned, seemed much more direct.

"Unleashing divine power? Huh? A god descending to earth?! Trans-spatial sensing?! Performing mass teleportation in front of everyone?! Without teleportation beacons or Terminator teleporters?!"

Lamizain shouted, "I can't believe it! Didn't you tell me to be careful with my words?! Then tell me, what are you doing?! You can imagine what's going to happen next even if you use your toes!!"

“Wait a minute,” Sanguires exclaimed, raising his eyes in shock, “So this miracle of mass teleportation isn’t a function of the new equipment you created, Peturabo?!”

"That's what you said to him?" The Lord of Steel stared at the War General, whose expression was strangely calm.

“I didn’t tell him that,” Horus Lupecal replied. “That’s how the Mechanicus and those who still believe in the truth of the Empire explain it to others and to themselves, and he’s obviously more inclined to accept that version.”

The Angel Lord frowned his beautiful eyebrows. "Horus... the Imperial Truth is the teaching of the beloved Emperor. He has repeatedly denied in public that he is God. Perhaps you should consider issuing an order to ban certain illegal missionary organizations that are causing unrest."

"Perhaps the Emperor's teachings are actually outdated, and all of you should update your own version of the truth."

An eerie silence fell over the air.

A genuine look of shock appeared on the face of the Angel Lord until the Iron Lord broke the silence.

"That means there's another group that absorbed the neutrals and the people you brought... the Church of the Holy Word? I guess."

“The Church of the Holy Word.” The Warmaster nodded. “They were originally a small group that was secretly spreading their teachings illegally here, and their numbers were not many. But in the last 24 hours, the number of their casual followers has increased more than a hundredfold, and the number of fanatics has also increased significantly. Now they have members everywhere from Titan crews to ordinary crew members, and even some in Astartes, mainly those warriors who followed me to Zenobia.”

"Aren't they supposed to belong to a warrior...group? Why would they suddenly believe in this? Where did they get in touch with them?"

"Now this ship is full of people who have experienced miracles. The Word of God sect has always been difficult to suppress in Terra. If they have an existing organization, they can use this event as an opportunity to increase their number of believers exponentially."

“Then you have quite a few groups on your legion flagship,” the Lord of Steel clicked his tongue. “There are small groups in Astartes, and there are small groups among mortals. In addition to these two small groups, there is a bunch of people who previously believed in the truth of the Empire. You have to distinguish between Astartes and mortals... It’s really hard to believe that you were able to control them for so long before you got here.”

“I hope you’ll separate the Imperial Tax Collectors’ fleet from the calculations,” the Warmaster said coldly. “These people are more loyal to Macardo and his civil service system than to the Emperor. Their interests lie not in the Astartes or mortals.” Saint Gilles looked at Horus again in surprise, his wings spreading and then closing.

Now, the face of the Angel Lord is beginning to show hesitation and struggle: "Should I stay and join this exciting and dangerous discussion, or should I leave as soon as possible to protect myself?"

“Ah-oh. Indeed. That adds another group to the mix, and I suspect that, given Makado’s habits, he’s crammed plenty of so-called Handprint agents into it.”

"Clearly. Our enemies are not only from the outside, but also from the hyenas who want to feast on the Empire's still-open feast."

Saint Gilles coughed loudly.

“Brothers. My dear brothers, I beg you to stop.” The angel stretched out his arms. “Do you know how terrible, how teetering on the edge of rebellion you are discussing? Even on the battlefield of the spirits of vengeance, here, every word uttered is utterly inappropriate!”

"if not."

It was the War General who calmly uttered this reply, while the Lord of Steel glanced at him sideways.

"This is not a discussion we should be having sitting here..."

“Avoidance is useless, Saint Gilles,” the War General said, his pine-green eyes staring directly into the beautiful eyes of the Angel Lord. “The principal contradiction will not shift because of avoidance or our will, even in this universe.”

A playful look appeared on the face of the Lord of Steel, but he did not interrupt him.

"Can……"

“If we’ll be punished for discussing this, then it means the future doesn’t have a place for us.” The War General scanned the shifting expressions on Saint Gilles’ face. “I know you’ve always been very afraid, my brother,” he suddenly said softly.

Saint Gilles, the greatest warrior and the bravest angel, glanced at his brother beside him with near alarm.

"No, Horus." He clasped his hands together in a prayerful gesture. "Not here, not to be mentioned."

"But why are you afraid? It can't be that simple, right? What could frighten a warrior and commander like you wouldn't be as simple as it appears on the surface. —You saw those things, didn't you?"

Seapine's green eyes almost scrutinized the perfect face of the Lord of Angels. "You are so afraid that you have done so many things against your conscience, your heart so overwhelmed by guilt. — In fact, you see far more of the future than you tell us, don't you, Saint Gilles, my brother who is not truly favored by him?"

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"I already said! There's nothing more to say! Leave me alone."

Euphrates Kira, thoroughly annoyed, shook off yet another person trying to strike up a conversation with her. What was this man's name again? Titus Korsa? Or something else?
That didn't matter. But as she walked here alone after separating from her companions, the other person followed her and kept pestering her to join their so-called Book of the Word cult gathering and "tell us what happened that night," an invitation that bothered her.

"Leave me alone!" she said. "Get lost!"

The other person was clearly surprised, "Qile? What's wrong with you...?"

“I’m fine, as long as idiots like you stay away from me,” she said rudely, trying to push him away.

Just then, another naval officer walked over. Judging from his uniform, he was a mid-ranking officer here, a very handsome man.

“Hey! She doesn’t want to talk to you! Go away! Go somewhere else!” he said, temporarily getting her out of the predicament. The nagging Titus finally left in a huff because of this man’s intervention.

However, just as Euphrates was about to thank the officer for his timely help, he gently tucked a stray hair behind her ear and began to ask her if she had time to have dinner with him tonight and spend the night with him in her cabin.

When she realized what he was implying, she got goosebumps all over and then kicked him with the speed and agility she could muster.

Amidst the other person's pained cry, the blonde photographer clutched the pendant tightly and fled.

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“Your words just now were still too… provocative for Saint Gilles,” Ramizan said, searching for a word. “Are you sure that if we let him go back now, we won’t get hit by a Red Tear’s main gun at close range?”

“Not at all.” Peturabo found a more comfortable and casual position in his seat. “The advantage of talking to a prophet like Saint Gilles is that it’s easy to use their foresight to achieve the desired effect. The same goes for that old prophet with the pointed ears. Good heavens, you have no idea how easily they can be swayed by prophecy.”

"...Your method isn't something everyone can use. Who isn't a prophet yet surpasses all the prophets in the way of prophecy? So it can't be called 'easy' at all."

"Of course, but for me, easy is enough. — Oh right, not all prophets, that definition isn't accurate enough. Conrad Coates' prophecies are an exception. His prophecies can only be changed if we work to change and fix the 'lifeline,' and there are patterns to those changes."

"what why?"

"Well, the specific reasons behind this are complicated to explain."

"Then let's put it simply in a way that I can understand."

"Simply put, he wasn't actually 'prophesying.' What he got were 'answers' derived from his innate 'calculation,' but he himself was unaware of this because he wasn't educated back then. Therefore, the prophetic results he obtained were always more accurate and clearer than anyone else's."

"What? Just intuitive calculations can work like this... then his being in this godforsaken place, Nostramamo, is just... too terrible. No wonder he went mad. Ah, wait, let's not get off topic. Saint Gilles has already returned to the Red Tear to digest that explosive knowledge. Isn't it time for you to answer my questions?"

“Of course, of course.” Peturabo bowed slightly with the body of Horus. “What would you like to ask first?”

"Then let me ask you, why did you suddenly change your mind, perform miracles, and tacitly allow the Holy Word organization to begin spreading?"

(End of this chapter)