Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 863 Even so, are you still willing to save humanity?
In pain and rage, Mephisto's body was firmly imprisoned on the seemingly simple altar by a targeted magic circle developed by the Grey Knights over many years.

The chief think tank had never hated himself so much: at this moment, he even felt a pang of nostalgia for the dark angel who had once been so dangerous to Dante and Baal, simply because it was the very soul that had truly amplified Mephisto's power after his three deaths and three resurrections. Having experienced the feeling of turning the world upside down with a mere gesture and manipulating even the most mysterious time, Mephisto realized that the desires deep within his soul were trembling and retreating under the most genuine emotional torment at this moment.

"You must be very unwilling. Centuries of service, centuries of fame, centuries of battles, you who strike fear into the hearts of your enemies, how could you be so easily subdued by someone you've never even heard of?"

Hyperion said, “But perhaps this is for your own good, Chief Think Tank. My brother and I have seen countless brilliant heroes throughout the galaxy. Most of them either died young or gradually lost themselves under the influence of long years and powerful forces. Very few were able to persevere to the end. If the heartache and sudden realization you feel now can make you understand more deeply that, despite being given such high responsibilities and expectations, you are ultimately just a vessel chosen to bear the Black Angel, and not its true master, then you should thank us for the revelation we have brought you.”

"Heh." The light of psionic energy was forcibly extracted bit by bit from Mephisto's body, flowing into and illuminating the pattern of the magic circle.

The chief think tank member clenched his teeth, his handsome face contorted like a wild beast, blood flowing from his gums, staining his sharp canines red, and the whites of his eyes were stained red with a coal-like appearance.

"I've never seen such a shameless, bureaucratic Space Marine as you, you brat. Even in the Imperial Inquisition, you'd be incredibly thick-skinned."

"I am delighted that you gave me such high praise in person, Chief Think Tank. This will be a great encouragement for my work going forward."

The Grey Knight smiled and said, “After all, our chapter’s location is special, and so is our mission. We relied heavily on the Inquisition’s connections before we were free to move around, and I have so much to do next. Generally speaking, if my brothers are more engrossed in studying the art of exorcism and psychic powers, then someone has to be in charge of the unpleasant but necessary diplomatic affairs, and handle related matters and provide explanations for our chapter in the courts of the lords—we have learned from our mistakes, and we have read the notes left to us by the High Master countless times over the past ten thousand years. We will not make the mistake of thinking that escapism is useful and ignoring the realities of the situation.”

"Ha, so that's you, isn't it? Hyperion? A diplomat from the Alpha Plus-level Astartes think tank who's always running around? Guess how long it will take for the agents of the throne to come after you... Pfft... Ugh!"

The chanting grew denser, heavier, and more distorted. Chains of runes tightened around Mephisto, who coughed and spat out a mouthful of blue-glowing psionic blood foam. This powerful liquid was immediately and greedily sucked into the depths of the chaotic magic-filled building by the magic circle beneath him.

In his blindness, Magnus sensed the sweet, fresh magical blood. He immediately absorbed it and, using the link he had previously formed with the Silver Tower of Tzeentch, attempted to free himself from beneath the tower and, incidentally, initiate the ritual to pull Wizarding Star into orbit.

The link he then activated was intercepted by the magic array set up by the Grey Knights. With a smaller force driving a larger one, the three forces formed a perfect siphon cycle. Mephisto's power, acting as the initiator, ruthlessly and efficiently drew upon his power, while his power, like a gear, drove the Tzeentch power within the nine unknowing labyrinth fragments, beginning to move another planet and using his power to permanently sever and stabilize space.

"You traitors!" The Crimson Demon King, trapped in the eternal cycle of the Demon-Sealing Seal, where no one could hear him, roared terrifyingly. "I recognize these rituals and techniques! I recognize the original form of this power flow! Traitors! Accomplices! You have no idea about the tragedy that happened to Prospero... No... Prospero... That was me... That wasn't me... That was me... That wasn't..."

The inhabitants of Adulim, the only city on Sabathus still surviving the cult's onslaught, gazed in astonishment at the nine ancient peaks in the distance. These mountains, which had stood there for countless millennia, now emitted a bright blue light from within, illuminating the planet's ancient skyline.

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"What do you think, sir?" Sergeant Malik solemnly handed the binoculars back to Colonel Fedorak, who then began to observe the nearest peaks again. Just moments before, these peaks had undergone a series of changes, starting with the first peak known as the "eldest son," and continuing until the "youngest son," closest to Adulim City, also emitted a blue light.

“I don’t know, Malik, but I have a feeling that perhaps our… glorious service as messengers of hell in Sabathus for so many centuries is about to end.”

Colonel Fedorak gazed at the nine mountain peaks that shot nine paths of light into the sky in his field of vision, his pupils reflecting the complex patterns formed by the ever-growing starlight in the heavens.

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Lucius Anteros felt dizzy and disoriented. The moment he was sucked into the magical vortex, he immediately raised his relic staff to try to resist the attraction. He then found himself falling into a warp vortex made of primordial aether.

Fortunately, the Staff of Anton Matthias, personally selected and gifted to him by Lord Mephisto, greatly amplified and strengthened his power, with surging aetheric energy continuously flowing into Anteros's body, almost bursting him apart.

Anteros quickly composed himself, trying to shake off the overwhelming bliss of being filled with ether, while loudly reciting the powerful ancient incantations he had glimpsed while Mephisto was casting spells—incantations that a young compiler like him should not know or master, but Anteros had long since discovered that he could understand the meaning of these obscure incantations and had secretly memorized them.

Now that he was forced to put these tools into practice urgently, he discovered that they were much easier to manage than he had thought, and the young think tank couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and heroism.

When Andros finally stumbled out of the vortex of magical tornado, dizzy and disoriented, and saw his mentor, the chief strategist bound to the sacrificial circle by evil black magic and seemingly coughing up blood, all of Andros's senses were immediately captured by Mephisto's miserable and wretched appearance.

The greatest heroic achievement he could ever imagine himself accomplishing was right before him, waiting to be realized—to save the warband in a pivotal battle, or even to single-handedly save the chief think tank, Morpheus.

The editor's heart pounded wildly at the heroic act he was about to perform, an act worthy of being etched in the annals of Angelsburg. His eyes were fixed on Mephisto, whose eyes were now gleaming with a complex light. Those eyes, which were always so somber, cold, and powerful, now flickered with sadness, struggle, and sighs in addition to their usual ruthlessness. So much so that he didn't even notice his surroundings.

Mephiston lifted his bloodshot eyelids and saw Anteros's face.

The chief think tank's eyes widened. He opened his mouth as if struggling to say something to Anteros, but magical blood gushed from his mouth like a fountain, taking away his life, vitality, and power.

"I've arrived, Lord Mephisto!"

Anteros immediately got up and ran to the magic circle that imprisoned the chief think tank.

"I'll get you out of here right now! Please hang in there!" Mephisto's pale lips twitched, warm blood staining his gums, lips, and chin. The fresh, sweet smell of blood made Anteros's fangs seem to peek out from his palate—but no, the teeth didn't come out. Instead, his blue power armor was quietly rippling like glass, and his appearance was subtly changing as he came into contact with the runes.

But the editor was so focused on becoming his mentor, a hero of the chapter and humanity that he was completely oblivious to the changes happening to him.

He hurriedly began to examine the malevolent runes that were imprisoning and draining Mephisto's magic. The bloodstone at the tip of Anton Matthias's Staff was bearing the increasingly powerful and vast psionic energy emanating from the little think tank, and the silver eagle claws gripped the crimson gem tightly.

Finally, under Mephisto's complicated gaze, Anteros grasped a silver-white ouroboros made of chaotic energy burning with glazed flames—this blasphemous object was placed on Mephisto's throat, rendering him speechless, while simultaneously drawing upon the Chief Think Tank's psionic energy to form a loop, pumping a continuous stream of power into the magic circle beneath him.

"You're safe!" Anteros shouted. "My lord, get out of here!"

"..."

Mephisto straightened up, slowly walked out of the magic circle, and looked back at Anteros.

"how about you?"

"I can take care of it right away and go back with you... Huh?"

Just as Anteros was about to chant an incantation to shake off the ouroboros, the venomous creature suddenly "came to life," coiling itself around Anteros's hands like shackles.

Before he could react, the snake's mouth opened wide, and a pair of venomous fangs pierced through the already rippling arm armor, directly linking the energy cycle with Antros's flesh and blood.

Intense, sulfuric acid-like pain instantly began to consume Anteros's body. He screamed in agony, only to find that the Staff of Anton Matthias was suddenly unable to help him as effectively as before at this crucial moment—the staff's handle suddenly began to shatter, and pieces of the silver outer shell peeled off, revealing what appeared to be some dried-up organic matter inside. Then his attention was no longer on the staff—he finally noticed the changes in his own body.

Antros screamed in terror as he watched his pure blue power armor gradually transform into layers of eerie blue-purple gradient feathers amidst the shimmering ripples, while his human hands turned into large, scaly bird claws. He turned his head, trying to open his mouth to call for help from Mephisto, who stood outside the magic circle with a complex expression, but the sound that came out was no longer a sound that human vocal cords could produce.

His lips transformed into a silver, hard bird beak, and the world in his eyes began to look like something he had never seen before. His neck lengthened, growing bird-like sacs and downy feathers, and his psionic hood transformed into a magnificent feathered crown—Lucius Anteros, the Blood Angels scribe, vanished. Only a Tzeentch demon covered in blue feathers lay fallen in the center of the magic circle, desperately reaching out his bird-claw-like hand towards Mephisto.

There's no need to be so downcast.

Hyperion walked to Mephisto's side and watched as the remaining human figures, gradually losing strength within the magic circle, began to transform into demons.

"You suspected from the beginning that he might not be human, didn't you? You were incredibly audacious, Morpheus, to try and outwit Zaedgir, daring to lead him into the deepest, most secret sanctuary of the Blood Angels' monastery, without considering what would happen if you failed. Well, perhaps some would call that bravery and decisiveness."

The being, whose only feature was its face and eyes, still retained the appearance of a young Holy Blood Angel, turned its increasingly numerous eyeballs on its feathers in horror and disbelief, staring intently at the silent Mephisto.

"Ah, you might only have a dozen seconds of consciousness left... This personality will likely be devoured by your original body soon. — Guess why you were born with such powerful psychic abilities, able to memorize any spell after just one glimpse and use it immediately?"

Hyperion gave a formulaic smile to those eyes that were beginning to tear up.

"This is definitely not the kind of ability a normal psionic apprentice should have. Because you, Lucius Anteros, are actually an 'egg' of the newly born Dark Lord Zaedgir, stolen from the warp using ancient magic. In order to make Mephisto the catalyst for his plan—to be the catalyst for his galactic-level magic array that offered the entire solar sector in front of the Prospero system to the demon prince Magnus—he secretly put 'you' into the womb of a tribal woman on Bawei long ago, so that you would merge with an innocent soul, completely unaware of your own nature and unable to reveal your existence. In this way, you successfully passed the selection test, entered the Holy Blood Angels, and became a candidate think tank..."

"Therefore, Mephisto has no qualms about making you the sacrifice for this cycle. Because you were never human, Antros. You were raised by humans and Astartes, a demon who thought himself human and wanted to be a hero to save humanity. Now, fulfill your final mission and operate this magic circle. At least it can indeed allow you to save humanity."

Antros's face had completely transformed into the bird-like mask of the Myriad Shapes Demon Lord. Vibrant and ever-changing pearly feathers grew around his eyes, and ten thousand eyes stared at the person outside the magic circle. Only the last pair of eyes retained the azure blue inherited from the archangel.

After hearing Hyperion's last words, even more luminous tears flowed from those human-like eyes that had been stubbornly holding on.

As if he had lost all his strength, this being lay sprawled in the magic circle, watching Mephisto's iris gradually fade into the pupils of a bird. The last image reflected in his eyes was Mephisto's furrowed brows and hesitant expression.

The power of the Myriad Transformations Demon Lord successfully linked with the magic of the Demon Prince and the Silver Tower of Tzeentch, who shared the same origin.

With a loud horn-like sound that echoed throughout the dark side of the empire, followed by a violent flash of light.

The night was as bright as day.

When people looked up again, a star that had been dormant for a long time began to shine again in the night sky of Sabathus.

(End of this chapter)