Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 806 Horus decides to stop himself from being sent to the temple.
Just as Gavial Loken, under the tutelage of a talismanic phantom claiming to be "the Will of Perturabo," was cautiously "playing" the demon Cerberus on the surface of Devon with a very novel attitude, and swaggering over to "inspect" the Serpent Temple, which the local priestess Akshub claimed to have repaired and prepared for Erebas for sixty years—

Another legendary figure emerged from the Vengeance Souls, making the accounts of the Destiny Steel look much better.

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"Did you hear that?"

Titus Casa raised his head and spoke to the person in front of him.

This tall officer was one of the pilots of the Imperial Titan Judgment Day crew. In fact, the Judgment Day had one captain and two co-pilots, and Titans was one of the co-pilots.

"What did you hear?"

The person in front of him was leaning against the Titan's heavy leg armor, sitting on Judgment Day's massive iron feet.

The person who could sit in this position so casually was obviously no ordinary person; he was Jonah Aluken, the other co-pilot of this divine aircraft.

“About that one,” Titus lowered his voice, “the one who personally killed the great traitor on the surface of Devon Moon and performed miracles before Shadowmoon Wolves and us…the living saint.”

"Shh!" Jonah looked around alertly and found that only a few Mechanicus craftsmen were adjusting the coils of Judgment Day in the distance.

"The term 'living saint' is too crazy, Titans. I know you've been secretly participating in the activities of the Holy Word Cult lately, but if you continue to be obsessed with so-called religious and divine activities and Captain Tunet finds out, you'll probably... no, you'll definitely be expelled from the Judgment Day crew by the captain, and you'll never have the chance to return to any Titan's pilot's throne again, and you'll only be a laborer."

Jonah said seriously, "We worked together very well when we were piloting Judgment Day on the battlefield, and Judgment Day likes you very much, so I won't report you to the captain. But I hope you can be more self-aware and stop associating with these outdated superstitions."

“Come on, Jonah.” The other man hesitated for a moment because of the terrible prospect, but something inside him quickly supported him. “You say I’m superstitious, but you’ve always called Judgment Day ‘my girl’ and believe she has a soul, and you’ve said you love her, which isn’t much better than me, is it?”

Then he saw his colleague suddenly blush and start stammering and gesturing as he said something like, "...it's normal for a war machine as great as her to have a soul. She saved me so many times, and there's nothing shameful about falling in love with her!"

"Alright, so are you coming with me to the healing prayer gathering for the War General? It's said that the Living Saint will appear at this gathering, which is why I specifically invited you. I wouldn't have invited anyone else."

The other person's expression shifted for a long time, clearly wavering between belief and doubt, before finally asking.

"Didn't Captain Tunet suspect anything?"

"He's busy attending balls and cocktail parties for senior naval officers and has no time for us. Some of the narrators are ladies who are very good at hosting parties, and now the officers' deck is practically their salon."

“Alright then.” Jonah Aluken finally nodded. “Let’s go take a look.”

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I'll say it again. I'm not some living saint!

Horus Lupecal spoke angrily in the voice of Euphrates Qile.

"Don't make me attend any more of those damn prayer gatherings! You and I both know that what our beloved Warchief needs most right now is a stasis field, the best biologists, geneticists, and doctors sent from Terra! Not some damn prayers and temple meditation healing!!!"

"Are you really not planning on some kind of savage sacrifice involving warp creatures?" He ultimately held back those words.

"Oh?" The Iron Lord sitting opposite blinked and considerately pointed out to the narrator, "Then why don't you just say that you think what the War General needs most right now is for his father, who is hiding in the palace and ignoring everyone, to come in person. That would surely cure him and bring him back to his former glory."

"..." The narrator's face twisted into a strange shape in an instant.

"What? Did I say something wrong? Although, strictly speaking, we can indeed invite more outstanding biological geneticists..."

"The emperor, who is beloved by all, is the best in this regard!"

"Hmm... I really don't know why you're so sure. If I were you, I wouldn't be so convinced of something I didn't witness myself."

Horus quickly calmed down. He was now quite familiar with the emotional impulses and irrational waves of this body, which helped him to better regulate his emotions.

"Let's put that aside for now. I think it's absurd to participate in the kind of activity you've designated, and why are you so lenient with the spread and growth of the Holy Word sect within the fleet? It's a huge destabilizing factor that will undermine our command and operational efficiency."

"Uh. Is that so? Pfft, I'm not so sure." The other person chuckled as if they had thought of something very funny. "I think, at least based on what has been proven so far, the Holy Word Cult should be much more effective at stabilizing large groups of people than something like the Warriors' Association, which is extremely limited and disposable."

"The fact that they say the emperor is a god is bad enough," Horus pointed out.

"That's okay."

This strange being picked up a stack of crudely made papers reeking of cheap ink. "Look," he said, "this latest flyer says that the Living Saint, in his mortal body, personally beheaded Yugan Tamba; the Shadowmoon Wolves who rushed in all witnessed your heroic act, avenging Moy Virulan of the 19th Company and his comrades; when you were seen, your head was surrounded by golden light, you held a longsword burning with golden-red flames, and you emerged from the mud- and mold-covered wreckage, bathed in crimson flames, your body spotless..."

"The golden light was the headlamp for both me and Lucius; I was meant to blind the other. The sword was indeed a finely crafted power weapon, but the flames were the adapter I used to take Lucius's promethium canister and pistol! — Though he died a heroic death, for some reason he didn't think of using a flamethrower until his dying breath. I was wearing protective gear, so of course I was clean when I went up on the deck, that's all. Just how far can these superstitious folks spread the truth?"

“No matter how the rumors go,” the other person shrugged, “you need to put the Word of God sect's activities in check. You're the only one who can go on this ship.” “Why me?”

The other person looked at her innocently, "Because now that the War General has fallen, you have become a new spiritual support for many people in the fleet. Also, because the Holy Word Cult is your responsibility, you should be able to learn it on your own very soon—if you can't, why don't you read the leaflets a few more times?"

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"Damn it, my responsibility! Damn it, self-taught! I don't believe in this stuff at all! I can't understand what those religious fanatics are thinking! What is he thinking?! Has his mind been corrupted by something?!"

Ignas Calcacy and Messati Oriton watched anxiously as their friend paced frantically around the room.

“He so casually made me attend this superstitious gathering, and then I had barely left the reception room when I heard that he was still planning to send the still-comatose Warmaster to Devon so that the natives there could heal him in the temple! Terra! This is all insane!”

“That’s true, but considering our terrible experiences at the foot of Whispering Mountains, I feel like there’s some connection,” Messadi said cautiously. “Is it just my imagination?”

Ignas frowned and shook his head. "Perhaps not. Is he hinting at something to you? Euphrates?"

"God knows. But I know the Warmaster absolutely cannot be sent to that damned temple on Devon's surface. Who knows what will happen to an injured person if they move him like that, and the Moon of Devon is polluted... I mean, traitor, is Devon really reliable? We have to find a way to get Inmestar... I mean, Ms. Inmestar agreed to have her Starling team send some messages to Terra for me, asking them to send a Royal Guard surveillance team to escort the Warmaster back for better treatment, or, if all else fails, send them to Sanguis, or Dorne, Feralus, or even Rus... What's wrong with you all looking at me like that?"

The other two companions stared in disbelief as the female photographer rattled off the names of the Primarchs with such ease and familiarity.

"That... Euphrates. Euphrates?"

Messadi said cautiously, "Although I don't know why you care so much about the War Commander... aren't you oversimplifying the matter of contacting Terra? Lady Inmestar is the leader of the Star Speakers; she will only serve the War Commander and others."

“Yes, these are levels that ordinary people like us can’t even dream of,” Ignas nodded. “I came from Terra, and in all my years I’ve never even seen a member of the Royal Guard up close!”

The words of his mortal companion reminded Horus of the current situation. Although he knew that it was not him, and the other was not Peturabo, he still had no way to confirm this with someone of sufficient status. In fact, based on the events he had recently witnessed, if he were to step forward now and say that he was "Horus Lupecal" and that "I have become a mortal woman," the first person to raise a gun and kill him on the grounds of "undermining morale and bewitching the people" might very well be one of his most beloved sons.

Why must his body be sent to Devon's so-called temple?!

This was something he couldn't understand no matter how hard he tried, because no matter how he looked at it, the nameless person inside Peturabo's body had no reason to do such a thing.

Regardless of the reason, his top priority now is to prevent his body from being inserted.

—Because although he didn't believe it, and the other party didn't seem to believe it either, judging from his encounter with Devon Moon in the secret temple behind the strategy room, the mutated creatures caused by warp contamination must exist here, which greatly increased the danger of the Devon Temple to him.

"Although the Church of the Holy Word has recently been absorbing followers like crazy due to the miracles performed by the War General and his fall, and its size is larger than ever before, as a sect, they still lack a core figure who is convincing enough and can perform miracles. Euphrates."

The old man sitting opposite him, who had been silent until now, finally spoke.

Kerrell Hindman, a preacher who had spent years immersing himself in preaching and understanding human psychology, said softly, “Have you ever thought… if everyone now believes that the Warlord is a divine being, and that the Warlord fell because he bore the sins committed during the Great Crusade… then going to a temple—regardless of what god it actually worships—is a very natural and acceptable course of action. At this moment, your appearance as a living saint is simply…”

“This is absurd!” Horus roared. “Sindeman! I thought you were the most steadfast believer and preacher of the Imperial truth! How could you join these lunatics in spouting nonsense?!”

“What I mean is,” the old man said, frowning thoughtfully, “that after I left Whispering Mountains, I actually went back and consulted many books… I can’t say for sure, but I also believe we should stop the Iron Lord’s irrational behavior until Terra sends a reliable oversight team. However, we are now isolated and our time is running out. We need more help in a short time—at least someone who can get us to the temple and nip any signs of trouble in the bud, exposing it before anyone else.”

“To succeed in operating under the watchful eye of the Lord of Steel, we can only do so with the help of the masses,” Hindman said, the old man looking intently at Horus.

"And the identity of a living saint is actually extremely advantageous to you! Euphrates! You can simply obey orders, but make some subtle modifications to the sacred texts you spread and the specific content of your sermons that will benefit your actions!"

“That requires extremely refined writing skills, and it could easily backfire,” Messati said, exchanging a nervous glance with Ignaz.

"Have you forgotten how many speakers my professor has provided, friends?" Hindman smiled. "I'll help Euphrates organize his speech, and then we'll need to arrange 'responders' in suitable locations at the gathering. I'll ask my students for that..."

Horus listened, and before he knew it, a chill ran down his spine. He suddenly realized that what he had been taught was far too much about how war and violence were used, while the measures on how to properly deal with such civilian officials were too simplistic and lacking. He may never have truly realized the extent to which a civilian official like Carell Hindman could stir up trouble with a pen.

—And what about the Emperor? A thought quietly took root in his mind: Was the Emperor… also completely unaware of this? The existence of Makado…

The pendant felt hot on his wrist again, jolting him back to reality.

"So, Euphrates? Are you still planning to go to this prayer gathering?"

Hindman's gaze was fixed intently on Horus, who subconsciously swallowed. "...I can, I think. We need to find a way to stop the Lord of Steel from messing with the unconscious Warmaster."

He said seriously, "This is the most important thing right now. So I will go. Please take care of the speech, Carell."

“Of course.” The chief speaker nodded. “Don’t worry, I guarantee that as long as you read it aloud, we will definitely be able to find some companions here to help us.”

(End of this chapter)