Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 856 Where Did You Come From?
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"Since your memories and consciousness are here, in other words, two of your three souls are here, and your body is here, then you should be able to sense to some extent where the last soul went, right? Mephisto?"

Ramizam stroked his chin and asked this question.

Lacerius knelt on one knee, his lap resting on his now weakened old friend, Mephisto. Mephisto had just explained his condition to everyone, having unexpectedly lost a third of his soul. Even for a powerful psychic like the Chief Think Tank, this was a severe blow.

Now, his entire body radiates a silvery light with every breath. His bones and blood vessels are all made transparent by this supernatural radiance of uncontrolled psychic energy, as if someone had made a three-dimensional X-ray of a human figure with red flesh showing through it, which is both eerie and unreal.

“I can definitely sense the direction it went, but it will take a while, because it seems to have gone to a very dangerous place... It's also very unpredictable and difficult for me to handle…”

The chief think tank, panting, turned his head slightly in response, "In fact, the fate I just witnessed has undergone a tremendous change... In Baal, on the way here, and even in the last divination above Adulim, I never foresaw that Zaedkir and my destined pursuit would end here... Such a great disturbance to fate, if I hadn't been powerful enough, I might have been completely obliterated on the spot."

Upon hearing this, the Chief Recorder glared angrily at the "Silver Skull" who had taken the head of the Tzeentch Demon without authorization.

"I told you it was an accident! Killing this demon is a good thing, isn't it? Why are you glaring at me like that!"

Lord Ramizan immediately glared back defiantly, "I'm not a mind reader like Morpheus, how would I know he was planning something this big!"
Listen to this! What, "I originally planned to freeze time and leave my body here, so that I could split my soul into three and carry out three tasks at the same time..."

Listen to this! Is this even humanly said?! Even when Ruth and Pony fought in Prospero, they didn't create anything like this! And I remember that neither Varo Tigris, the Ultramarines who was on par with Mephisto, nor Ezekiel, the Dark Angel, ever created any psionic spells of this caliber!
If I remember correctly, Tigris was so weakened by a single area-of-effect spell that the people had to carry him to walk before they arrived at the scene, fought off the insects, and saved Calgar...

Ramizam thought sullenly, if the so-called 42K's three major loyalist think tanks were all built to Mephisto's standards, then Tigris would have been in this style back then—

In the blink of an eye, a deafening chirping of insects erupted outside the fortress, and the Tyranid swarm surged in like a tidal wave! The Great Thinker Tigris glared, raising his hand to unleash a torrent of psionic energy. A golden light flashed, splitting the sky like thunder; the insects that touched it turned to ash, those that brushed against it were reduced to dust. The warriors cheered in unison: Such divine power! Truly a sage among men, a demon descended from the heavens! What a broad shoulder for Lord Karlga to lean on!

—I'm saying, this is a medieval dark space world, not a mysterious Eastern celestial palace fantasy cultivation world. Feng Lingyueying—oops! The Dragon Emperor and the Moon Empress are in the medieval world! I used to think that when others said that Mephisto was a fantasy overpowered protagonist, they were just joking, but now I see that it's completely realistic!
Of course, out of proper courtesy, the above massive rant was completed in Mr. Ramizam's mind in an instant and was not spoken aloud, nor was it heard by anyone.

Only Zão Eifelnetti blinked his curious eyes, trying to digest the fragments of language and content he had never heard before.

"Now that we know where the third soul is, and you're in such a condition that you can't move easily, what should we do? Shall we help you back to the city first and then make further plans?"

“That’s all we can do.” Mephisto nodded, his heart pounding in his chest with each movement. “Also, my Blood Oath is in orbit.”

“Wait a minute,” the Grand Secretary said gravely, looking at Mephisto incredulously, “What about Andros? The boy has run in, and this is such a dangerous ceremonial building. Are we just going to retreat like this? Leave him here all alone?”

“Antros…” Mephisto clutched his heart, lost in thought for a moment, his eyes lowered, his skin almost translucent, “Although my fate has just been severely disrupted, I understand even less about the role Antros played in it…”

"Is he still entangled with your fate?" Lacerius asked.

“…There should be more.” After pondering for a few moments, Mephisto answered with rare hesitation, “His fate is too closely tied to mine, like trying to observe a small star next to the moon, it’s hard to see clearly.”

—If you always talk to people like this and can't use metaphors, then I think it's quite normal for your apprentice Anteros to have some opinions about you.

Zan nodded slightly in agreement.

“Then we can’t just retreat without doing anything,” Lacerius said immediately. “Your current state is so unstable, and Anteros’ situation can easily entangle you. If someone with ulterior motives takes advantage of this, you could easily lose control…”

Seemingly realizing that the "Silver Skull" was still present, the Chief Clerk swallowed the last few words, but his gaze toward Mephisto clearly expressed his disapproval.

"So, are we going to search this whole place?" Ramizane spread his hands. "This tower obviously only has one way up, right? Maybe the altar was originally some kind of teleportation..."

“What did you just say?” Mephisto immediately noticed the unusual wording. “You have a sense of direction in this maze?”

"Don't you have any?" Ramizain asked doubtfully. "Even though we've been going around in circles on every floor, we've been climbing stairs the whole time, and we can see the scenery going up from the window..."

"What do you see?"

"Forest, uh, sea, and some other towers, I guess."

"tower?"

"The tower."

The silver skull gave them a strange look and waved towards the window of the basilica.

"Can't you see? Even though it's covered in green vines and plants, aren't those towers still gleaming silver?"

A certain combination of words caused both think tank members to change color simultaneously.

"How many are there in total? How many did you see?"

"Uh? Eight seats."

"And yet, a woman..." Before the relaxed expression on Morpheus's face had faded, the person who spoke stamped his foot.

"Including the one we're standing on, there are nine. Hey, these nine look a lot like treacherous..."

The silver tower suddenly began to shake violently.

“Look there!” Mephisto said with difficulty. He pointed in the direction of the destroyed altar, where the broken star array flickered again.

"How is that possible! This thing is completely destroyed! It couldn't possibly work! Besides, it didn't have a sacrifice—"

A whirlwind-like attraction suddenly emerged from the broken, spinning magic circle, followed by shouts from the vigilant Holy Blood Angels and the firing of slug guns: the red-letter warriors, who had been completely still like statues after losing the wizard's control, suddenly began to tremble.

"No way..."

Streams of dust were drawn out of their hollow power armor by the silver tower's magic circle. As the material lines formed by the dust trembled, dispersed, and gathered again, a brand new magic circle was finally outlined on the broken magic circle.

"This appears to be a teleportation array. It's different from the original," Morpheus concluded after staring at it for a moment.

"This is either one of Zaedgir's original plans, or there are other powerful forces at play, manipulating fate. In any case, it's unwise to trespass; perhaps we should at least withdraw from this silver tower..."

Someone sighed softly. "In any case, it's not your fault that you're so suspicious, fickle, and stubborn."

"Who?! Who's playing tricks... on me...? Oh God... the blood of Saint Gilles...!"

The other Holy Blood Angels knelt on the ground, the sound of their terracotta armor striking the stone floor echoing throughout the room.

Lacerius's perpetually arrogant, stern, and critical expression softened completely at this moment, and tears welled up in the eyes of the tough old man.

"What's wrong? Lacerius, you..."

Mephisto turned his head with difficulty, his handsome eyebrows immediately furrowing, his expression a mixture of sorrow and joy.

Zan looked up and saw that the speaker was an unusually tall giant—he had seen this person in his past visions.

Immediately afterwards, the man seemed to notice Zao's gaze. He held up a finger to Zao's lips, signaling him to keep quiet.

The next second, a hazy, tall figure slowly appeared at the entrance of the hall and walked towards the crowd.

With each step, blood surged from the void, forming its perfect shape: feet, ankles, legs, torso, shoulders, arms, fingers, head—and finally, when the newcomer stood before everyone, a pair of enormous, snow-white wings shook off the last drops of crimson blood from the tips of their feathers, slowly unfolding and then retracting behind them. At this moment, the cold and eerie Silver Tower Hall seemed to be instantly illuminated by a soft glow, as warm as daytime.

No scene in the world is more magnificent and sacred than this.

"Saint-Gilles above... our great father..."

Lamizan did not kneel down like the Holy Blood Angels. He simply looked at the newcomer's golden mask, which was said to be exactly the same as Saint Gilles himself, with great suspicion. It was indeed lifelike.

No, but the golden mask, golden armor, and wings of San Gilles—shouldn't that be San Gillesno? Perhaps Lacerius and the others have mistaken him for someone else. But what about Mephisto—

The chief think tank member moved his lips a few times, his eyes filled with rejection yet also with a tender longing, and weakly stretched out an arm towards his father in Lacerius's arms—

"Lord Sanguinius..."

Huh? No way? You're admitting you're wrong too? Didn't Dante tell you what San Giuliano looked like when he saw him?

"No need for formalities, please rise, my children, and these two guests who have come from afar."

The angel nodded to everyone in the hall with an enchanting air, and this approachable attitude made the Holy Blood Angels feel flattered.

—I didn't kneel down? You're telling me to get up already? Oh well, fine, I didn't want to kneel anyway.

Zan Ao seemed to want to speak but hesitated, yet still wanted to.

The archangel approached Mephisto, and their fingertips became the focus of everyone's attention.

Instantly separate.

The chief think tank let out a tired but soothing sigh. The light burning within him, which had been consuming the prison of his flesh, began to subside. He left Lacerius's embrace, clearly feeling much better.

“Saint Gilles…our father.” He knelt on the ground, utterly submissive, yet unable to control his anguish as he looked up at the angel, “I know you can’t possibly be real…”

This statement stirred up a murmur of doubt and discontent among the other Blood Angels.

“I cannot possibly be real, my son. What you see is merely a reflection of me in your own blood,” the archangel-like figure said calmly. “But Abaddon’s act of opening the Great Rift, whether intentional or not, made it much easier for me to appear.”

“Our glorious and holy Father, is this really not you? I thought, we always thought…”

Tears streamed down the wrinkles and beard of the old think tank member. "To see you here in person... what are your orders? Even if there are countless mountains of knives and seas of fire, hellish demons ahead, we will not hesitate or retreat for a moment. We are willing to be shattered to pieces for you, even if it means dying ten thousand times."

"This is a portal." The archangel pointed to the newly formed magic circle, which was flashing with red and blue light. It looked extremely eerie and ominous, but the Holy Blood Angels were all mesmerized and their eyes were filled with tears. Clearly, as long as this person who looked like an archangel spoke, they would dare to venture into the crystal maze if the other side was in front of them.

"Leading to two places."

He held up a finger. "The first place, you can find Anteros there."

"The second place is where you can find 'Morpheston'."

"Now make your choice, children."

"Which path should we take, sir? Or which path do you wish us to take? But we will follow your guidance and crush everything on that path until the goal you have given us is achieved."

Lacerius, like a lost child who has finally found his way home, knelt down again, devoutly praying and begging for guidance, clear, crystalline tears streaming from his eyes, which had been stained and discolored by the warp.

"Choices are always more important than paths. My son, even when there seem to be no choices, the ever-relenting fate will always force us to make choices."

The archangel's expression was sorrowful, yet his smile was extremely gentle.

“What if we make the wrong choice and fail, Father? Will it disappoint you?” Mephisto asked.

“Failure is not an acceptable outcome for either of us,” said the archangel-like being. “Morpheus, the power of the Thousand Sons I have borrowed can only maintain the magic circle for a limited time. You must make a choice as soon as possible.”

“So…” Ramizan suddenly said, “this choice actually means that Andros can be weighed on the same scale as ‘one-third of Mephisto’ to some extent? So, it’s just a question of who is more important, Andros or Mephisto?”

“No, that’s not it,” Lacerius said, while ordering the officers and the other Blood Angels to retreat to a distance. Then, in a very low voice, he said, “At least for now, the two are incomparable in importance—the part about ‘the escaped… Mephisto’ is far—far more important than the significance of Andros to the Chapter and to all of our blood relatives. Mephisto and I both see this clearly.”

“Then why are the two options comparable among the choices offered by the ‘angels,’ while you—especially Mephisto,” Ramizan pointed to the chief think tank member with a furrowed brow, “are so hesitant? Do you really know everything?”

(End of this chapter)