Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 857 Mephisto, how did you manage to distinguish this?
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“So I don’t understand what there is to hesitate about.” Ramizain frowned.

"If Mephisto is the physical prison you use to suppress the dark rage problem in the genes of all Holy Blood Angels—"

Lacerius nearly sprang into action, his force field staff tipped with a skull and the remaining psychic energy in his eyes exploding simultaneously.

“Morpheus?!” he gritted his teeth. “You told him? Is it really appropriate to tell someone from another chapter about something so life-or-death?!”

“I didn’t tell him,” the chief think tank member said calmly.

"That--"

“I told him, children, and I told him many other things, and don’t be surprised that you will hear them now and in the future.”

An archangel-like figure interrupted urgently.

“I know you are all intelligent people, but it would be beneficial to trust wisdom from a faraway place. Why not listen to his ideas and brainstorm together?”

Well, if that's the case, then there's nothing more to say. Lacerius sheathed his staff, but his gaze towards his cousin held a newfound assessment and contemplation.

—Okay, whatever angel you are, the fact that you're so good at smoothing things over and endorsing me since we just met makes me feel very good about you.

"As I just said, we all know how vast and persistent the influence of Black Wrath is, except that the Weeping Ones have achieved some suppression through experiments over the past thousands of years—"

"The one who weeps? The one who suppresses?!"

"Can you please stop interrupting other people?!"

"But this must be done immediately—"

"...Morpheus, you might as well just confess. I really don't want to say any more. Just tell me what you did to Antros. Is he your backup vessel? Or a sacrifice you're planning to use as a buffer?" Ramizan's voice carried a hint of sneer. "Or is this brat part of your plan to fight Zaedgir, intended as a sacrifice or a rat trap?"

“Nonsense! Mephisto wouldn’t be… Mephisto?” Lacerius was about to rebuke Ramizan, but was stopped by the inscrutable expression on Mephisto’s face.

The chief scribe and his attendant asked incredulously in a low voice, "Calistalis? That's not what you intended, is it? After all, you've raised him for so long, and you even shared your most precious memories of resurrection and the secrets of Black Fury with Andros..."

The chief think tank member did not answer; his face grew even paler, like a corpse.

He looked at the archangel-like figure and asked, "Is it safe here?"

The latter seemed to know Mephisto's concerns, and streaks of blood seeped out from the cracks in the ground, then flowed around everyone, forming a spherical barrier.

“I don’t know how you know. But if you do know, then I can’t stop you from saying it today. So I’ll tell you myself.”

Mephisto said slowly, “Yes… Lucius Andros is my mousetrap… a fine analogy, Brother Ramizane. For I have long since discovered that he has been deeply rooted in Zaedgir by Tzeentch’s power…”

"What?! You still kept him by your side! You even let him delve into the deepest secrets of our chapter's think tank monastery, you took him as your closest attendant, and you had me teach him so many arcane arts, spells, and experiences!" A look of pain, like a poisonous vine, climbed Lacerius's proud face. "I thought you wanted him to succeed me, so I gave him everything I knew, hoping he could grow up quickly..."

“These are necessary sacrifices, Lacerius. Otherwise, Zaedgiel wouldn’t believe that I’m already captivated by the mystery of my intertwined fate with Andros. My plan is to play along and see what Zaedgiel wants to gain from me through him. I could deal with Andros immediately, but then I wouldn’t be able to reel in the big fish. And who will be the next one sent to my side? I have no idea.”

"...So this is the real reason why you insisted on coming here and bringing Anteros with you?" The Grand Secretary's eyes were bloodshot. "No wonder I kept reminding you that he was behaving strangely, too undisciplined, too impetuous, and unsuitable for battle. He should have stayed in Baal, but you insisted on bringing him here!"

“I’m sorry, old friend.” The chief think tank bowed his head toward the clenched fists of the chief secretary, his long golden hair slipping down his cheeks.

“But my divination tells me that I cannot thwart Zaedgir’s plot without letting Andros embark on his path of destiny. When I tried to change Andros’s fate, the divination all pointed to my and our failure—my failure would lead to our failure in half the galaxy, Lacerius, I must.”

After a couple of breaths, the old think tank member finally spoke, “No need to apologize, Morpheus. You were doing this for the greater good. The person you should apologize to isn’t me.” He turned his face away, his body language conveying a faint sadness.

"...In any case, I want you to know that Anteros's original intention was to become a hero in your eyes."

“…I know,” Mephisto sighed.

"I know."

"Are you done talking?" A voice broke the somber atmosphere.

"Now that we've finished talking, shouldn't we go chase after the one-third of Mephisto?"

Lamizan pointed to the teleportation array, which was beginning to dim, and said, "Since you've made it clear that if we go to save Anteros right now, it will cause problems on a scale that spans half the galaxy, then let's go after the 'you' who got lost first. See, isn't it better that we've made things clear?"

"..."

"..."

The tense, sad, and heavy atmosphere just moments before vanished completely. Was this some kind of divine sense of relaxation? Zan thought.

Wait a minute! Why are you going in?! Isn't this Mephisto's business?! Don't take me with you! Can you put me down first?! I'm just an ordinary kid—

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"Where is this?"

After a moment that felt like an eternity, yet also like countless eons, Ramizann and Mephisto stood on a patch of ground.

This appears to be the middle of a main road, a dusty road marked with many tire tracks and various footprints, with the ruins of massive buildings and mounds of sand on either side.

“I still can’t pinpoint the exact location of this place.” The chief think tank member frowned. “But I can definitely sense ‘it’ nearby—the one-third of my soul that I separated is in the vicinity.”

"Can't you summon him at your own discretion? You are clearly more complete now."

“Let me feel ‘his’ thoughts. I…feel it…I sensed…endless…blood…rage…”

Mephisto gasped for breath, and crimson blood gradually began to fill his eyes. His nails grew sharp and long, with taut tendons, resembling claws. Sharp, thick canines protruded from his gums, bulging out of his lips, ruining his god-like, sculpted good looks.

“Anger…blood…skull…”

The chief think tank member roared, his voice filled with boundless rage, and the fleshy wings on his back almost burst forth from his body—

"Wasn't it supposed to be Black Fury? Why is he also thirsty for blood? Wait a minute, looking at it this way, it doesn't make any problem. Hey! Wake up!" A large hand slapped Morpheus on the shoulder, and he roared as he raised his greatsword—

Another, even smaller hand reached out with difficulty and "patted" Mephisto.

The chief think tank's soul trembled and returned to his body. He opened his eyes, his pale skin covered with glistening sweat, and stared in shock at the two figures, one large and one small, before him.

"What's wrong? I didn't use too much force. Did I hurt you? You don't seem to be doing well."

"...No, no, thank you..."

Morpheus's gaze shifted downwards, looking at the child sitting on the other's chest who was smiling at him. For the first time in his life, he truly had the thought of killing someone to steal his apprentice.

—It's such a shame I can't have this child's talent, but I caught a glimpse of his future when my illusion ended. While our Holy Blood Angels Convent can't have him, heh heh, neither can your Silver Skull Divination Hall.

As a result, Morpheus felt much calmer. He composed himself, checked himself to make sure he wasn't affected by the scenery he had just seen, and then spoke.

“I’ve sensed that one-third of my location. Follow me, head that way.”

He thought for a moment and then added, "When you see it later, don't be too surprised, because 'it' has very little rationality and knowledge left in its mind, and 'it' will be completely different from me."

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"...Now I know why you said that beforehand. If you hadn't said it, who would have known it was 'you'?"

After trekking for an unknown amount of time and traversing countless ruins and dunes, they stood atop a pile of ruins, looking down at the enormous crater below—it looked as if some huge thing had fallen from the sky and smashed into the ruins.

At the bottom of the pit, there is a group of monsters, divided into two groups, talking.

One side consists of only one "person," which Mephisto refers to as "his" existence.

If he hadn't identified him personally, Ramizam would never have dared to be certain.

Because there was only one "person" standing there.

A giant blood-coated beast wielding a decapitation sword dripping with red light, its muscles bulging and its skin as red as blood, its face ferocious, its canine teeth protruding, its expression furious, its limbs covered in sharp claws, and its wings spread out on its back, could not be described as humanoid, but could only be described as having a rudimentary human form.

"...With this look, you could walk from the fortress gate to the foot of the bronze throne and no one would ask for your ID, right?"

The other side, on the other hand, has a large number of "people".

This included a silver fur-lined hound with eight spider-like legs and a remarkably human-like expression, greedily and eagerly eyeing 'one-third of Mephisto'; a massive headless serpent, its body nearly thirty feet long, its forequarters headless, but with a woman's face in the palm of a hand, the serpent's body below the wrist; a man beside the serpent whose face protruded from the center of his ribs, which twisted outwards at dozens of illogical joints, making him resemble a contorted bony octopus; and several other monsters surrounding the largest one, which reeked of smoke and engine oil.

It was a massive minotaur with a captivating sapphire-like color. Its ornate horns were adorned with exquisite chains and gemstones. Its neither-male-nor-female body was strong yet curvaceous. Its hands were giant steel claws, but its lower body was crudely welded to a piston-driven, six-legged walking machine that spewed engine smoke.

“What is that?” Zao asked. “It looks a little different; its body is so strange.”

"Uh, kids shouldn't look at it too much—"

“That’s a Soul Grinder, a type of Demon Engine.” Mephisto pointed at the minotaur. “'I' don’t seem to like 'it' very much.”

"Strictly speaking, as far as I know, that's a very rare breed, using a demonic engine made by the Slaanesh Keeper—"

Before the words were finished, the red behemoth formed from the soul of Mephisto roared angrily to the sky, then leaped up and charged toward the Slaanesh engine without saying a word. The monsters screamed and scattered to avoid it, and the two behemoths in the arena immediately began to fight in a frenzy.

"...The classics couldn't resist seeing the Slaanesh family, so it seems they can be completely sure who this family is. The kobolds probably really bought shares."

Zan'o really wanted to ask him what made it a classic and who the kobold was, but he held back.

"What are you talking about?" Mephisto frowned.

"Nothing... Oh, it seems like 'you' are about to win, hiss, you bit it! You actually bit it! And you're even basking in its blood with a look of ecstasy!"

Mephisto looked like he'd eaten something filthy. "Don't say anything more. That was only a third of my soul."

"That was you too. You just pounced and bit through the neck of the Slaanesh! Whoa! You even tore off the pincers with your bare hands! That head-shaking while holding it in your mouth felt so good! Woohoo! That was impressive, Morpheus!"

"..."

Zan looked sympathetically at the chief think tank, whose white color seemed to have turned somewhat grayish.

Fortunately, after venting its rage for a few minutes on the slain Slaanesh engine, the red behemoth below finally stopped with its sharp teeth and claws.

But the killing did not stop.

The three of them crouched atop the ruins, watching as the blood behemoth, one of Mephisto's three souls, chased after the fleeing monsters like a wolf among sheep. Only the eight-legged hound, running the fastest on its eight legs, escaped unscathed. The other monsters, whether they fought with guns or magic, were completely helpless, turning into a shower of blood and severed limbs under Mephisto's pursuit.

"You seem to be completely ignoring what the other person is saying; you're just enjoying yourself."

"It wasn't satisfying..."

"Really."

"...'It's in a current state of mind that it has so little remaining intellect that it has broken free from the shackles I've built around it with reason, self-discipline, asceticism, and knowledge. But as long as I can take 'it' back, this situation will not happen again."

"You... use the same excuse with Lacerius and the others? I'm starting to understand why Lacerius has been so tense. If what he's trying to guard against and prevent is this thing inside you, then his aggressive attitude towards those around him is completely understandable."

"..."

“That red-haired Lord Mephisto seems to be leaving.” Zan’ao bravely broke the dull atmosphere, pointing to “Mephisto” who was dragging his decapitation sword, covered in blood, and walking in another direction, stepping on broken flesh and mud.

"Let's go, follow him."

(End of this chapter)