Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 850 Large Think Tanks, Small Think Tanks, Old Think Tanks, Infant Think Tanks
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"...Do you have any questions about this, Brother Ramizann?"

After announcing a series of operational plans that would include him, Lacerius, the old think tank man whose golden hair and beard had turned white and whose eyes had become glowing blue from staring at the warp for so long, frowned and asked.

His companion Andros, however, showed a subtle disdain for the panic.

Standing opposite them were the Ramizam brothers, the "Silver Skull," who seemed somewhat dumbfounded and at a loss for what to do about this sudden arrangement.

This brother's power armor, though understated, possessed a certain sophistication in the eyes of the three Holy Blood Angels' intelligence corps. While its artistic embellishments weren't as meticulously crafted as the power armor of the Archangel's Sons, every line, every chamfer, and every polished detail exuded an ultimate refinement—

perfect.

Anyone slightly surprised and taking the time to measure and calculate this seemingly ordinary power armor will discover that every part of it achieves a perfect balance and mathematical perfection, so much so that although it has only a few decorative elements, it exudes a dignified elegance that always draws the eye.

Anteros was suddenly startled, and awkwardly pulled his gaze and soul away from the perfect outline of the silver-gray power armor.

Even if the members sent to find think tank candidates are somewhat special, this member with the "silver skull" is far too suspicious!
The young think tank apprentice thought this as he turned expectantly to his mentor and role model, Chief Think Tank Curator Morpheus.

However, the Great Think Tank seemed to share his apprentice's vigilance and skepticism on this point. Anteros was slightly disappointed to see that Mephisto's body language was calm, as gloomy and unpredictable as ever, but showed no wariness toward Ramizan in front of him.

Lacerius, as always, looked down on everyone except the Blood Angels—but Andros knew that this was always the case; he was like that to everyone, seemingly overly irritable and always thirsty. However, such a person often exerted a great deal of pressure on others, especially mortals. So why was this "Silver Skull" also affected?
"Ah, no, I mean, I'll be traveling with you later, aboard the Thinker Thunderhawk, to the ancient bridge where the colonel and his men were ambushed to check for traces of the cult's activities, and to use your psychic powers to see if we can find any clues about their next move. Of course, of course, no problem at all."

The other party immediately gave a clear and concise summary.

He could certainly retell the story, but as an Astartes, he was far too unsettled and too verbose… and this kid too…

Anteros's gaze shifted to the boy sitting in the net bag on the other's chest. Even without using his power, he could feel the powerful undercurrent surging within the boy.

—Judging from Ramizane's words and actions, it's a bit of a waste to take this child to the Silver Skull like this. Antros thought to himself, what if he were to participate in the trials of the Holy Blood Angels—

As if hearing his thoughts, Mephisto glanced at him, about to speak, when the boy also looked directly at Anteros.

The young editor felt a surge of resentment. He glared at the boy. Generally speaking, for an apprentice like him who had already begun his military service and was learning from the chief think tank, such a glare would be just enough to give the boy a slight shock without actually hurting him.

Zão Eifelnetti looked at him calmly, while a voice rang in Anteros's ear.

[That's strange, big brother. You're bullying a little kid.]

"What are you?! Demon, show yourself at once!"

Anteros leaned back, raising his staff in fear. The ancient relic's tip, topped with a magnificent bloodstone the size of a fist, gleamed and emanated the compiler's spiritual power.

"Are you sure you've found your candidate and not some monster, Brother Ramizan?!" he shouted angrily. Mephiston watched indifferently, while Lacerius's already deep furrows between his brows deepened even further.

“Zan’ao is fine, of course! But why are you so scared? Nothing happened just now, we only saw you suddenly erupt like this for no reason.”

Ramizam was equally baffled.

In his view, these three Holy Blood Angels think tanks were all incredibly strange.

Mephisto, known for being the most gloomy, cold, and dark character, is actually alright. Lacerius, with his white hair and beard, always speaks to everyone with an arrogant and disdainful attitude, while Andros looks like he's always thinking about how to make a name for himself and become a great hero—okay, it's understandable for young people to be like that, but don't put on such third-rate supporting characters who are just there to highlight the protagonist's childhood with their lines!
"Zan'ao?" He looked down at the boy in his arms, who looked back at him. "What happened?"

The boy raised his hand and pointed at Anteros.

"He was just thinking of making me hit my head on your breastplate. I told him that it was wrong and that adults shouldn't bully children."

Mephisto's gaze also fell upon them, and after staring at Zan'ao for a long time, the chief think tank finally spoke.

"Congratulations in advance to you and your chapter, brother. If he hadn't perished in the surgery and the trial, your Hall of Prophecy would have gained an enviable and capable member, with such outstanding and rare talent and stability. It will be extremely difficult for you to cross the star sea and bring him back by yourself."

The chief think tank suddenly seemed to realize something, "...I see. Perhaps our coming here is also to help you bring him back. After all, we are taking an unconventional route, and our speed in passing through the Great Rift is much faster than that of ordinary Imperial ships."

Ramizan breathed a sigh of relief. “A rare talent?” He keenly caught the word. “Ah, when I came here, the think tanks only told me how to find him and what he looks like; I knew absolutely nothing else.”

“It’s wise not to let you know too much.” Mephiston nodded, while Lacerius seemed a little surprised by the chief think tank’s talkativeness and affability, giving him several suspicious glances. “This child looks like an extremely rare kind of psionicist. His psionic level changes according to the strength of the psionicists around him, making him very suitable for team psionic prophecy.”

Ramizan showed a look of sudden realization, as did Lacerius and Andros.

“This is truly rare. I’ve only ever seen this type in records. In all these years, this is the first time I’ve seen one alive and not yet corrupted,” said the elderly scribe. “In other words, this child’s psychic abilities should be much higher now than when you found him, isn’t that right, Brother Lamizane?”

"I think so." The person being asked looked down at the child in their arms. "What do you think, child?"

The boy sighed, glanced at the kind adult who needed his protection, and nodded. "Yes," he said helplessly, "because they came, I feel the little elves in the air have become super lively and are very willing to do what I ask."

“A little elf?” Ramizan corrected him a little nervously. “I guess the kid meant something like free-floating warp energy; he hasn’t received a formal library education yet.”

“That’s right. This description is also common among spontaneous psychics, especially younger individuals.” Mephisto even nodded in agreement with a slight smile, while Lacerius looked at him with even more curiosity.

—It seems that too much time has passed. Even Mephisto, who is known as one of the three great think tanks of the 41K universe, does not know the true meaning of mentioning the little sprites in the Prospero system. Thank goodness.

Lamizain thought to himself. But was the child really alright? Hopefully, he had just used that word unintentionally.

Zan pointed to Mephisto in the center, "This uncle is especially... he has a lot of elves around him, a lot, a lot, so when the three of you get close to me, I can easily do more things."

“Lord Mephisto is the most powerful and greatest curator of the galaxy,” Anteros said, his chest brimming with pride. “He is destined to be the one to save us and the Chapter.” “Antros,” the chief curator gestured for his esteemed apprentice to cease his praise, “now that we’ve ascertained the child is alright, let’s hurry to the ancient bridge Colonel Fedorak mentioned. My intuition tells me that what we’re looking for is there.”

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The powerful engine airflow of the Thunderhawk gunboat blew the dense trees in the rainforest swaying back and forth, and the pilot skillfully swung the tail to create a landing area where they could walk down.

The 20-person team, consisting of three think tank members and one think tank candidate, emerged one by one from the ramp opened by the Thunder Eagle a few minutes later.

The remaining five Blood Angels stayed in Adulrim to assist Colonel Fedorak and his men in fortifying the city's defenses and regrouping, waiting for Mephisto and his group to return so they could either evacuate together or make other plans.

“You’re a bit strange, Mephisto.”

As they began to walk along the muddy red riverbanks exposed from beneath the dark brown humus, Mephistopheles's attendant and old friend—his only friend—Lascellus, asked him a question in some kind of telepathic language between them.

"I never knew you were such a hospitable person."

"Perhaps Callistalis appeared on me for a moment."

The thought, which popped into his head almost subconsciously, reached the scribe's mind before Mephisto regretted it and took it back. The rare occurrence of this old name being mentioned on purpose silenced Lacerius. The scribe stopped asking questions, and the atmosphere in the procession became more like a funeral procession in red.

After a few minutes of tedious trekking, everyone heard the thunderous roar of the waterfall through the forest.

Lamizain raised his hand and led them a few more steps beyond the riverbank, pointing in the direction from which the sound of the waterfall came as they walked, saying, "Look, the ancient bridge... wait?"

The Holy Blood Angels originally planned to find a few guides from among the messengers of Rubiana, but since Ramizan and Colonel Fedorak's men had seen this place together, it was more logical to find an Astartes to be their guide.

After all, Astartes' memories are far more reliable than those of mortals.

However, it seems that their Brother Ramizan is not quite sure about this now.

“There’s nothing here!” Antros looked suspiciously at Ramizan, who was also staring in surprise at the river. “There is no ‘bridge’ mentioned in the prophecy of my lord Mephisto.”

"That's strange! The waterfalls are still there, even though it's the same spot!" Ramizam was equally puzzled. "Where's that huge stone bridge?!"

Are you really reliable?

“Of course I’m reliable! Let’s get closer and check the locations at both ends of the stone bridge as I remember them.”

Although Anteros was skeptical about the reliability of this guy who didn't seem to have any Space Marine qualities, since Mephisto and Lacerius had no objections, he had no choice but to go along.

Nine minutes later, they arrived at the place that Ramizam believed should have been one end of the bridge connecting to the riverbank.

“I think…” The silver-skulled monk frowned, examining the riverbank and the shapes of the trees. “The bridge used to be here, but it disappeared for some reason.”

“Nobody would come here, and there’s no trace of any construction or excavation work that would have been enough to dig up a bridge of this size,” Anteros immediately pointed out.

The young editor wasn't entirely wrong; the rushing river had washed away most of the traces on both sides of the river, and if they ever existed, they had been almost completely erased by the high temperatures, rainfall, and the river in the past two days. The dense, overgrown vegetation of the rainforest had swallowed up much of the subtle evidence.

However, with two such experienced and seasoned think tank members in this group, as long as Ramizam can determine the general location, it won't be a problem to explore the traces of the past.

Mephisto's soul stepped out of the present moment and strolled leisurely along the riverbank, the rushing waters seemingly solidifying beneath his feet like a work of art sculpted from green and transparent crystal.

He continued walking back and forth along the frozen banks of the river until the day the stone bridge disappeared.

Although the intense psionic events that once erupted were brief, they left indelible marks in the river of time.

Thus, Mephisto saw something even more unexpected than what he had foretold.

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To the onlookers on the riverbank, the Chief Think Tank closed his azure eyes, and then a burst of intense blue lightning erupted from his forehead and psionic hood. The lightning crackled in the air before swirling back into the depths of his mind, all within a second or two.

“I saw it.” Mephisto said, glancing at Ramizan. “There was a huge psionic surge here, big enough to open a warp rift.”

Ramizam felt a sudden tightness in his chest. He hoped this guy could rewind time and see some events...

Fortunately, Mephisto continued, "I saw someone perform a summoning here, which resonated with the ancient power of this place, and then activated some kind of summoning or spatial channel."

"You mean that classic scene where some cultist summons a demon, gets swallowed by the demon on the spot, and then opens the gates of hell?"

“…Not quite the same…never mind, about the same.” Lacerius and Anteros stared in almost horror at the Great Think Tank, who had not rebuked them for their foolish words but instead spoke to them in a gentle and polite manner.

"What is the connection between this and the bridge's disappearance?"

“This sacrifice activated some kind of mechanism; this ‘bridge’ is part of some kind of ‘passage,’ and it retracted into the mountain after it was used,” Mephisto pointed to the cliff face ahead. “This matter is definitely related to the traitor Magnus.”

"how do I say this?"

“I saw many red warriors being summoned from the passage created by the opening of the ‘bridge’,” Mephisto said. “A Fallen One led them onto this land.”

(End of this chapter)