Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 848 Come, Your Majesty, please take your seat!
"What happened? What happened? What's wrong?!"

The Ironblood, which was sailing confidently across the vast ocean on its way to rescue the soldier... no, to rescue Mr. Ramizan, suddenly sounded an alarm inside the ship.

Within sixty seconds of the alarm going off, everyone except for the elusive Clark and the Pale King who had gone back to work had gathered in the Chapter Master's office.

—Magna initiated an emergency intraship teleportation the moment the situation was detected, completely disregarding all safety rules and procedures for subspace travel.

"What's going on now?" asked Pallas, who was wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt and shorts, holding a screwdriver in one hand and a half-repaired part in the other.

Lehman Russ silently wiped the white foam from his chin—in the usual sense, he might have been drunk and sleeping on the floor, but the Wolf King, who had been ruthlessly teleported here by Magna, was wearing a neat set of fine linen loungewear, with unfinished shaving foam on his chin and the scent of conditioner emanating from his wet hair.

Everyone tacitly looked away, leaving politeness to Lemanrus, who was clearly disturbed from his private relaxation time.

The wolf king gave a gloomy snort, then asked the palace steward for a large cup of "water of life" mixed with chili peppers and salt.

“You’d better have a good reason, or I swear I’ll tear that metal shell off you, Roger.”

“Incorrect,” Magna Dorn replied calmly. “The ship’s main control system is codenamed Magna Matt Dorn, and was manufactured by the esteemed Lord Peturabo in…”

"Alright, alright," Pallas quickly tried to smooth things over. "They've already teleported urgently, so the situation must require us to deal with it as quickly as possible. Can we leave this bickering for later?"

In any case, the wolf king finally shut his mouth.

“Palas now has the same flair that Fogrem had when he was comforting his brothers…” Pigeon nodded.

“Shut up,” Peturabo BC said. “Magna, tell me what happened.”

"New information received by our ship's sensors indicates that at the boundary between the extreme star field and the solar star field, the actual four-dimensional spacetime manifold is tearing apart in a non-perturbative manner, breaking the universe into as many as fifty-four causally closed fragments; the Higgs field vacuum expectation value is collapsing by a step, and the quark confinement potential energy is returning to zero at the edge of the fragments; all observers and material systems embedded in the current causal chain will fall into the 'existential vacuum' where physical laws fail within the Planck timescale when the spacetime fragments complete topological separation, ultimately returning to a causal, dimensionless quantum fluctuation ground state..."

"Stop!" Ruth shouted.

"Can't we just speak like human beings?!"

“You should be able to understand,” Peturabo BC pointed out bluntly. “Use your brain!”

"I don't want to touch it!" Ruth roared. "With all of you here, what's the difference between me touching it and the destruction of the universe?!"

“I think Magna means,” Pallas frowned, “that if we jump from the warp into the real universe, we’ll find that it splits into fifty-four pieces that are different in time and space from some point, and then… everything and everyone will perish together?!”

"A brief explanation, though not entirely rigorous, but basically correct." The Ironblood Machine Soul nodded to the cloned Phoenix.

"Will the subspace be unaffected?"

"It is received, but the transmission of the wave will be delayed, and the time in the subspace is simultaneously in the present, past and future, so the Ironblood can detect it."

"Could the location where the problem broke out be our destination?"

“Correct.” Magna’s Dorn Death Mask looked serious and righteous. “According to the ship’s calculations, our current energy can sustain us in the ‘time bubble’ constructed by this ship for a maximum of 6,322 minutes and 8 seconds.”

"What could be causing such a large disturbance? Is there any clue we can detect?"

"We need unconventional psionic sky survey lenses to work with us. We are in a 'spacetime bubble' in subspace, and we cannot use conventionally powered lenses to observe and locate the target effectively."

“The ship’s unconventional psionic observation lens requires the installation of a primary psionic power source,” Magna replied. “Neither the original nor the backup psionic power source is currently within the ship’s teleportation range.”

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Your lens is quite impressive. What was its original psionic power source... What are you doing?! Why are you all staring at me like that?!" The pigeon jumped up alertly.

Then Peturabo BC stretched out his mechanical hand and grabbed the pigeon that was trying to fly away, and he grinned.

In the palaces of the gods in the highest heaven, red light flickered, green light shone brightly, pink light was dazzling, and blue light changed and swept across a strange color. At this moment, believers throughout the universe could feel a kind of emotion similar to "Gentlemen, I am so excited!"

"Father, please take a seat."

--------

The magic circle engraved on the floor of the Hall of Omens was flashing continuously due to the abnormal and chaotic waves of warp energy.

Magna Dorn held the pigeon in one hand and used the other to activate the mechanical device hidden behind the mural on the front wall.

The last time these cables surfaced was when they brought back those loyal soldiers from the Istvan III who were originally destined to die.

"Just go in quietly and don't control your spiritual power! What's so difficult about that! We didn't say we were going to turn you into a torch!"

"You unfilial son!! How do I know what you're saying is true?! What if you can't get up after sitting down?!" The pigeon gripped the armrests of the chair with its two red claws, resolutely refusing to put its noble bottom on the seat.

"Find someone else!" He insisted. "Find someone else!"

“Magna knows these pipelines best…”

"Find someone else!!! Don't be so kind!!!! My PTSD is acting up!!!!"

Finally, with a helpless expression, Leman Russ had no choice but to step forward under the watchful eyes of his brothers and invite the Emperor to take a seat.

Fortunately, despite the pigeon's various issues, its psionic purity and level were undeniable. About thirty seconds later, Magna reported that the psionic observation lens had been fully charged and could be used for retrospective observation.

"Then let's quickly find out what's going on!"

--------

"Oh dear, I'm exhausted," Pigeon complained, lying on the mini chaise lounge they had added for him on the table, enjoying Diocletian's meticulous massage.

However, the others around the conference table were clearly not paying attention to this.

"With such a grand setup, how come the psionic lens only outputs a few gibberish characters? I thought it could see what was happening directly!"

“It’s impossible to visually determine this from such a distance. The working principle of the psychic lens is somewhat similar to precise divination. And this isn’t called dog-scratching script, Uncle Ruth. It’s a lost ancient script that needs to be translated, specifically used for writing supernatural content. Ancient people believed it could communicate between the present world and the afterlife.” “Okay, so what does this result say?”

“Magna is translating, we’ll know soon.”

A few seconds later, Magna opened his eyes, having deciphered an unprecedented amount of ancient documents, divination scrolls, dictionaries, and other materials from human, alien, lost, and unlost civilizations across the entire galaxy.

“The Holy Blood Angel,” he said, “the bearer of light and darkness, the lord of death; the pride and confidence of the Black Angel will bring about his third destruction.”

"The Lord of Death?" Ruth looked doubtful. "Is it because he left? Should we call him back immediately?"

“Not this Lord of Death.” Peturabo BC sat upright in his seat. “Damn it, I should have realized this when they first mentioned the subset of the universe and hinted that the Son of Saint Gilles could guide us to the past.”

"what?"

"In this day and age, the Holy Blood Angels have a think tank named Mephisto, who has served in their chapter for over 400 years and is known as the Lord of Death."

"So what? Over 400 years is indeed a veteran of many battles, but there are plenty of Astartes in the galaxy that have lived longer than him. Besides, I guess our brother doesn't know this nickname."

"Indeed, and in fact, we shouldn't have known in the first place."

Perturabo BC raised his hand, and the office door opened, allowing a mech carrying a static force field to enter. Floating in the center of the force field was a beautifully bound parchment manuscript with an ancient feel. What caught the eye was the bookmark tucked inside the manuscript, which was also a pure white feather.

"But Mephisto shouldn't have had much interaction with our universe in the first place... or rather, most of the Blood Angels have no problem interacting with us, even Dante... only Mephisto is different."

The mechman placed the static field on the table, saluted, and left. Peturabo BC reached into the field and took the book out of it.

"But the title of Chief Think Tank was merely a designation bestowed upon him... or rather, it was a position in the mortal realm given to him by Dante of the Blood Angels and other high-ranking officers so that others could 'understand' Mephisto's presence within the Blood Angels..."

"What do you mean?"

Peturabo BC moved his arm away, but the manuscript did not fall onto the table. Instead, contrary to common sense, it continued to float in the air and began to turn its pages automatically until it was turned to the page that Bai Yu had marked.

Look here.

Pallas frowned and stared intently, seeing a few lines of text written in black and red ink in a beautiful, lost ancient language on the leather pages. These were clearly not from the same writing system as Gothic, and seemed out of place here, somewhat incongruous with the rest of the book.

"...What kind of writing is this? I've never seen it before and can't decipher it, but it seems more like pictures than words? How are we supposed to read it?"

"As long as it remains within the realm of 'writing,' nothing is a secret to me. Perhaps he foresaw this. One of our brothers, even though he's gone, was quite capable."

Perturabo's face revealed a cryptic smile, and for some reason, Pallas felt that there wasn't much joy in it. "The Triple Soul, the Second Vanishing, the Black Angel's choice to be confined to Mephisto's physical cage only slightly delayed the arrival of that final, dark day."

You could hear a pin drop in the office.

"Black Fury is not a matter of genes and matter, but a flaw in the soul. One day, it will completely devour the offspring of the Holy Blood. This is an inevitable end."

“How could this be…?” Ruth murmured, a rare sorrow appearing on his wildly untamed brows. “Could it be that even things have come to this point, and eventually, all things will have their moment of weakness…”

"Well, I think I understand."

Perturabo BC had finished reading both pages. He closed the book and casually inserted the white feather into a randomly closed page.

“The next time you open it, you’ll see the prophecy on that page,” he explained to those around him. “This is a book of prophecies written by Saint Gilles himself. I didn’t know why he gave it to me, but now I think I fully understand what he meant.”

"Given to you?" the pigeon asked suspiciously. "When did Saint Gilles give you something so valuable? Before his death, were you two ever on such good terms?"

"Did I say he gave it to me before the Siege of Terra?" Peturabo BC sneered.

"What?! Our brother isn't dead?!" Ruth shouted excitedly. "Bring him back to us..."

"He's dead." The Steel Plush Tyrant watched with satisfaction as the Wolf King's face turned deathly pale. "Dead beyond dead, body and soul, witnessed by our Emperor himself."

The pigeon remained silent, but did not deny it.

"When exactly was it...?"

“That’s not the most important issue right now,” Peturabo BC said. “Now I’m more or less sure why things went wrong with Ramizan. After the Great Rift was opened, the effects of Black Fury were more severe than ever before; in fact, all the bloodlines of the Holy Blood Angels were in imminent danger. And in order to delay the time when Black Fury devoured the Holy Blood offspring, Mephisto, or rather, Callistalis, or rather, the Black Angel—these three beings whose consciousnesses were one and should not exist—were created by someone as a vessel to materialize the warp concept of Black Fury.”

“But this shouldn’t be!” Pigeon was the first to realize. “It’s impossible for a warp entity of this caliber to be imprisoned without any cost within a mere body of Astartes’ level strength! At the very least, it should require creating a Primarch-level body and… uh… I mean… cough cough, you continue…”

Under the extremely hostile gazes of the Primarchs, the pigeon reluctantly shut its beak.

"Yes, his physical strength wouldn't allow it, and he believed that the Holy Blood Angels shouldn't be too attracted to flesh and blood magic... So, as an alternative approach, Mephisto's mental or soul strength was forcibly raised to an extremely terrifying level. Of course, this doesn't mean he can be compared to the Four Ancient Ones, but his soul strength and psychic power are enough to suppress the vast majority of great demons single-handedly."

“This is an imbalance that should never have happened!” said the pigeon. “Wait, I suddenly understand why that universe is a separated ‘subset’…”

“That’s right,” Peturabo BC said. “Because bringing such a ‘Morpheston’ into our universe would cause a huge balance problem. In any case, Morpheston’s abilities are far too much for a chapter’s chief think tank.”

"so……"

"This is the result of the collision between the entire spacetime universe represented by Mephiston and the universe where 'Ramizane Carlosini' resides."

"Ladies and gentlemen, let's applaud! We may have just happened to observe the spectacular sight of two universes colliding."

"This is truly a spectacular sight... but who will win? Or rather, what can we do to separate them? Intervene? Remedy?"

“There’s no way.” Peturabo BC shook his head, as if he had only said that the weather was nice.

"For a cosmic collision event of this magnitude, let alone intervention, the fact that you and I didn't collapse and be reduced to elementary particles the instant we observed it is already a testament to the strength of our equipment and the adequacy of our protective measures."

"Then what happens next..."

"Now it depends on how much Ramizann can 'define' Mephisto. Once the 'definition' is complete, the victor's universe will begin to repair its spacetime backwards."

Peturabo BC took a sip of the hot drink in front of him.

"Now that things have come to this, I have faith in Ramizan Carlosini, I just hope he doesn't define Mephisto too...un-Mephisto."

(End of this chapter)