Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 843 The Worst Scenario and the Most Terrifying Friday in History
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*That's really bad.

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"I will explain the worst-case scenario in detail in the report I send to you, based on the following reasons..."

Peturabo BC sat in his office, where the walls on either side had been opened up to create a larger meeting room suitable for everyone.

The walls painted in Schönbrunn yellow and the ivory marble columns gave the entire conference room a bright and soft tone, but made the people sitting in it seem somewhat out of place.

"The light in this godforsaken place is still too bright. It makes my eyes uncomfortable and they're always fogged up."

While the demonic black-and-white flower tyrant at the head of the table began his report, Lehman Ruth complained to Fugrim Pallas in a seemingly low but actually loud voice.

The latter responded with a weary smile, like that of a pet owner whose large dog is impossible to tame.

Then they saw him pull out a pair of cool sunglasses that he had made overnight from his pocket—the design came from Peturabo BC, who claimed that Pallas's drawing was too ornate and lacked a hard-tech feel, and Russ wouldn't like it, so they gave him this design.

"Give."

"What is this?"

"Why don't you try it on?"

"If you dare to put ghost pepper sauce in there, you're finished, you little chick."

Ruth took the sunglasses with some skepticism, then sniffed them before putting them on his nose. The sunglasses, with their distinctly un-Imperial design, were clearly not meant for the Empire.

After the lenses completely covered Russ's eyes, he suddenly became much quieter, and his body language showed that his muscles had become more relaxed.

Pallas looked silently toward the head of the table in the center, where he met the gaze of Peturabo BC. The latter nodded at him during a pause in his reading, giving him a look that said, "See, I told you the sun here is too bright for wolves."

Okay. At least he still has Magna.

Pallas looked across at Magna Dorn, clad in golden armor, his imposing figure inspiring a sense of security, like a cornerstone of the empire.

Then, in despair, he saw his seemingly focused mechanical eyes flashing with various colors, clearly indicating that he was only using one thought to prevent roll call and take notes, while most of his mind was wandering. In short, he appeared to be listening attentively, but in reality, he had been daydreaming for a long time.

Okay, then let him see Clark, who supposedly came out using a talking body because he heard it was a formal meeting—

As if hearing what Pallas was thinking, the person who looked like a Dark Raven Guard raised his hand in greeting and smiled at his position. If it weren't for the fact that his eyes looked like a pitch-black abyss to the Primarch's eyesight, and upon closer inspection, countless compound eyes like tiny bubbles endlessly emerged, making one dizzy, then he would actually be quite a sight.

He quickly turned his eyes away, looking at the last person at the table of what was possibly the most complete gathering of Primarchs in ten thousand years.

The seat was raised, a strangely colored mixed vegetable juice was placed in front of him, he was wearing a white lab coat and glasses, he smelled strongly of chemical reagents, and he looked pale and thin, his head nodding sleepily.

Well, this guy, who everyone is guessing about but doesn't dare to fully acknowledge, and who may have once been their most unapproachable brother, is now sitting in the last seat and looks like he's trying to take a nap.

According to my statement upon taking my seat, "I didn't really want to come, but the client offered so much. A young person who is saving money can't refuse such a high fee, so I'm here to attend the meeting. But don't expect me to do any extra work. You get what you pay for!"

...Well, anyway, he looks much healthier and more cheerful than when they first met, which is a good thing.

Pallas turned his gaze to the right of the head seat, where a perch was placed. A white dove wearing a golden laurel wreath sat there with an air of superiority, while behind it stood a royal guard in golden armor serving tea.

To the left of Peturabo BC in the center is Magna Dorn, whose angle is such that the speaker cannot see his eyes, allowing him to blatantly slack off; behind him stands the court steward Rellano, clad in silver armor, gold ornaments, and purple shoulders, equally ready to meet the needs of the assembled lords.

...It does seem quite formal. However, based on what he has observed so far, this meeting between the emperor and his six sons is likely still a one-man show by some black-and-white plush tyrant who is giving a report.

"...In conclusion, the worst-case scenario is that Sanguires and Tzeentch have reached an agreement or even become allies to some extent."

The concluding remark that drifted into his ears caused Fograim Pallas's extraordinary mind to freeze for several seconds.

By the time he realized what was happening, Lehman Russ, who was standing next to him, had already stood up and angrily slammed his fist on the table in front of him.

Logically, the wooden table should have shattered into pieces with a loud crash, providing better background music and atmosphere for the Space Wolf Gene Primarch's rage. However, it unceremoniously only shook once and remained undamaged.

Ruth choked for a fraction of a second, then roared at Peturabo, his two overly long canines protruding from his upper jaw.

"How dare you slander our noblest brother, who made such a sacrifice? He truly chose a future he knew would lead to death and suffering, to win a glimmer of hope for the Empire and for us amidst despair! Even you cannot question him like this! I should throw you into Fenris and let the wolf spirits rip your throat out!"

Perturabo's eyes flashed. Magna Dorn sat motionless like a golden statue. The person that Klax had transformed into looked more like an Eldar, possibly a Mortal of Mortalion. He drooped his eyelids and remained unmoved. Pallas opened his eyes wide, trying to calm the furious wolf. The Royal Guard and the Grand Steward kept their eyes down, their noses down, their mouths down, and their minds down.

"calm down."

But it was the white dove in front of Diocletian who spoke up, "That's not what your brother meant."

"What does that mean? Don't you know that not a single slander should be leveled against Saint Gilles, who sacrificed himself for victory? Shouldn't you, who was there, understand this best?!"

Magna sat even more stiffly, while Peturabo and Clarks even looked somewhat amused.

The white dove awkwardly switched claws and grabbed the perch.

“That’s certainly true! Cough cough! But Peturabo only wanted to explain to us the worst possible reason for the current situation, not that it actually happened!”

"To dare to have such doubts is..."

"Why wouldn't I dare?" Perturabo said coldly, his brown eyes deep and dark. "If I didn't have the guts, I wouldn't have been there during the siege of Terra! And you? Where were the wolves then? Were they trying to assassinate Horus, or were they being played by Alpha in some distant nebula?"

That's it, the powder keg exploded instantly.

Ruth leaped onto the table like a hungry wolf, roaring as he pounced on Peturabo at the head of the table. Pallas, bewildered, tried to grab Ruth's belt, while Clarke leaped up—but his size and weight were insufficient to stop the Primarch's angry leap. He cursed as he was thrown aside and jumped to the side, while the white-clad mortal remained dozing...

At the critical moment.

Magna Dorn returned to his body in time, and the golden-armored Terran guards stood in front of the charging space wolves, with the Emperor and his brothers behind them, as imposing and unshakeable as a Great Wall descending from the sky.

"Are you going to help him and let him spout nonsense about our glory and our story?!"

Lemanrus's wounded wolf eyes looked at Magna's metal death mask, as if he still couldn't believe his stance.

“No,” Magna Matt Dorn replied, “but you can’t do that here; you have to follow the rules.”

"What if I insist?!"

"Then you try."

"If you insist on protecting them, then take my full-force attack! If you lose..."

"I won't lose."

Lehman Ruth howled in grief and anger, and with a powerful swing of his arm, struck Magna Dorn in the chest.

The wolf's fist sank deep into the golden armor, shattering it and completely caved in Dorne's sternum—Palas was already shouting for the apothecary to come over.

"No, it's okay."

With a slight tremor, the power ripples that spread out like waves gradually dissipated into the vast void.

He reached out and grabbed Ruth's wrist, slowly, very slowly, pulling the other's fist out of the center of his sunken "thoracic spine".

"Even if you are a Primarch, you cannot physically destroy the Ironblood with just one punch."

Magna Dorn said calmly, her voice regaining its mechanical, synthesized quality, "Now that you've vented your pent-up anger, Riemann of the Russ, may we continue our meeting?"

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"Shh... Let me take a look first. LOGOS, do you have anything like a telescope here... Oh, yes, thank goodness, let me see..."

After discovering that Zaan could share the sounds he "heard," Ramizam studied it curiously for a while without success and decided to set off in the direction from which the "sound" came.

As dusk approached, the group was likely to return or set up camp. If they were to return, it was uncertain whether they would meet again the next day.

After trekking for another forty minutes through the forest marshes and slush of decaying leaves, they heard the sound of a flowing river and the tremendous roar of a series of waterfalls.

Strangely enough, the human conversation that Zao shared with him while holding his arm was not drowned out by the loud noise at all, and the content was even more detailed and richer.

"...I still don't think these monkeys are human, but since the Ministry of Military Affairs recognizes them as mutants..."

"...It's terrible. I pray for my brothers who just died. May their souls rest on the throne..."

"...Something's not right..."

"...The face of the Nine Forest Spirits..."

"...My God, who made this thing? The person who made it must be either a genius or a madman..."

"...No, I should focus on the battle at hand..."

Combat? Ramizam's spirits lifted, but he immediately tensed up: that meant there was a possibility of firefights!

He quickly ordered Zan to hold onto the net tightly, and at the same time immediately instructed LOGOS to activate various individual three-dimensional protective measures, with all weapons charging and ready to go.

"Listen up, if a fight breaks out... well, I'll try to crouch and defend. LOGOS will activate its shield, and it will fire defensively if anyone gets close. Just cover your ears, understand? The cannons on my body might deafen you, I'm not sure."

"Understood, sir, don't worry."

"By the way, try harder and see if you can find the ambush points of both sides. It would be best to be able to tell which side is the Imperial Army and who is on the other side. We should move towards the Imperial Army."

The boy blinked, completely unaware of how outrageous the other person's request was. One dared to make the request, and the other dared to do it, and they actually succeeded.

“Then I think we need to get closer… Okay, right here, sir, stop for a moment.”

They reached the bank of a rushing river. The riverbank was steep and straight, eroded by the raging current. The foamy white water was at least fifteen feet below the bank, but they could now see the river to the left and right through the lush green foliage.

In the far distance is a group of waterfalls, which is what makes the huge roar. The height difference starts from the waterfalls and still exists in front of them, which is why the river flows so swiftly.

Further afield, one can see a massive but ancient black shadow stretching across the river. It appears to be a high-arched bridge, with its center point at least thirty feet above the river surface. Vines and thick moss cover the surface of the ancient stone ruins, but one can still discern that it was once quite exquisite and magnificent.

Zao squinted, trying to listen, and gently swayed his body.

“...I...I can sense about 150...no, 137...their voices all have the same regimental insignia, so they must be from the same unit...there's also a very strange voice with them...but it seems to want to harm these soldiers...because..."

He squinted again, “...Rebels...a trap...?...Oh no! She's going to catch me!”

He screamed, his forehead covered in sweat.

"What's wrong?!"

"It's alright! I tried to see where they were through that old hag's eyes. She didn't notice, but she had a talisman that glowed, which made her notice. But I ran very fast, she couldn't find me, don't worry."

"Old hag? In the eyes? Running very fast?"

Ramizam suddenly realized something.

"Uh... what do you usually do around Eisenhorn, Zan?"

“I don’t really understand either. But,” the boy said, resting his chin on his hand, “my dad told me to do what he said, saying that it would help me learn to control myself, and that when I grow up I’ll find a way to study in the courtroom, and I’ll definitely be able to do better than him.”

"So what does he usually ask you to do?"

“Usually when he’s not psychic enough, I’ll help him. Like just now, as long as I put in enough effort, I can get him to receive the help I give him. Or he’ll let me enter other people’s minds to hear their voices. Of course, he doesn’t allow me to see through other people’s eyes, but I’ve tried it secretly. I can actually do it. I didn’t tell him.”

Lamizain's eyes widened.

Such a familiar description.

"So, does that mean you... can actually speak inside other people's heads or speak using other people's bodies?"

"I haven't specifically tried it, but I think..." the boy hesitated, "I think I should be able to do it, right?"

"One last question." Ramizam began to feel something was very wrong. Was this child's condition normal?
"Excuse me, sir."

How many people's minds can you enter at once?

Zan'o gave an answer that even Ramizane, with his lack of common sense, would know was extremely terrifying.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I told Eisenhorn that I could enter the minds of two people at once, and he seemed quite satisfied, so I didn’t tell the truth. But I actually tried entering the minds of an entire district of people at once. That was the first time, the first time I tried to learn how to unleash that power under his guidance.”

"Just... one district? Go in, come back? No discomfort?"

"Yes. It just passed over their minds. I didn't do anything, just glanced at them, so it shouldn't count as anything, right? I didn't do anything, just looked."

The boy became a little uneasy as he was pressed for answers.

"...So how many people are in that district?"

Zan recalled for a moment and told him, "Fifty-three thousand three hundred and eleven people."

This can no longer be called a surprise Friday; it's more like a Friday of terrifying time bombs.

(End of this chapter)