Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 866 Who will keep an eye on this alchemy master!
-
“No need for that, Chief Think Tank. My name is Julius Robert Omar. Your exorcism runes will not work on me—I am human, not an unborn.”

Mephisto remained on high alert.

"Then you could be a heretic, or an alien, or a malicious echo dug out from my heart. Your name alone is causing ripples all around."

The chief think tank replied.

"This place is eerie. Malakin just told me through my psychic vision what he saw before his pain became unbearable. What he saw tells me that this place is the most vicious and addictive trap any loyalist could imagine, and any retreat will lead to a series of landslide-like devastations. So put away your poisonous lies. Whatever you are, I will not fall for them."

"Oh? What did Malakin tell you? Perhaps you can tell me?"

A genuine curiosity flickered across the other person's face, which bore an almost identical resemblance to Robert Guilliman's.

—By Saint Gilles! How could this face be so similar in form and spirit? It even has that strange and indescribable, soul-stirring feeling unique to the Primarch, which can only be felt by seeing the person in person.

The only difference is that because his body size is that of a normal Astartes, he does not possess the same awe-inspiring, head-on spectacles that evoke a sense of instinctive awe and pride in humans as the Primarch's body size does.

If we're talking about identifying counterfeit Primarchs, perhaps no one in the galaxy at this point in time is more authoritative than Mephisto—after all, the Blood Angels Chapter had dealt with cases of so-called "reincarnations of Sangilius" among its members, even before the Inquisition knew about it.

Even the company priests who personally followed this pathetic puppet were unable to distinguish between the real and the fake. The number of Blood Angels who were dealt with because they believed it to be the incarnation of their Gene Father was comparable to the losses of a major battle.

The leader of the team sent by Lord Dante and the Council of the Holy Blood to determine the authenticity of this self-proclaimed reincarnation of Saint Gillespie and to handle the matter was Mephistopheles himself.

Ultimately, it was revealed that the corrupt Inquisitor had implanted the power of the Lord of Change into the body of a Blood Angel monk named Archio, giving him an angelic appearance and wings, and even enabling him to deceive the detection of the Spear of Bigong, allowing warriors who were blinded and controlled by demons to raise the weapons left behind by angels.

Despite such a meticulously planned conspiracy, it was ultimately exposed and defeated by the warrior's own brothers, Raffin and Mephisto, and this incident became a secret of the chapter known only to a few people involved.

With this precedent, Mephisto is practically immune to "primordial-like Astartes".

But precisely because he had dealt with such cases, the feeling he had of this miniature replica of the Thirteenth Primarch, who called himself Julius Robert Omar, was so... completely unlike the feeling he had when he had faced the so-called "Reborn One of Saint Gilles" with his own eyes.

“If this place weren’t so oppressive to my psychic powers, I would personally use my eyes to dispel the fog obscuring your body, examine your foolish and ignorant mind, and find the threads that control such a pathetic puppet as you,” Morpheus replied, “instead of satisfying your curiosity. Enough of this nonsense, let’s end this conversation with our blood.”

The priest opposite him raised an eyebrow. "Ah, indeed, my oversight. At this time, you should have already dealt with the incident that Inquisitor Strey caused at Shenlong. It's normal to find it unbelievable. My apologies."

He raised his arm, and Mephisto's mind tensed up instinctively. Then he felt annoyed at his own childish worries: how could he, a member of the Holy Blood Angels' intelligence corps who had served for five centuries and participated in the Battle of Amegiddon, react so nervously to such a small movement?
As the priest, who called himself the "chapel manager," waved his hand, the feeling that had been covering Mephisto like an oil seal on the surface of water dissipated, and the power of the primordial ether in the vast ocean flowed smoothly back into the Chief Think Tank's internal organs. He couldn't help but take a deep breath.

"Now, please make yourself at home, I'm right here."

This self-righteous, ignorant man smiled, but he would soon learn that returning the psionic weapon to the Lord of Death would be the most fatal mistake he had ever made.

The psionic crystal on the chief think tank's hood resonated, and blue energy shot from his eyes, spreading across his entire head. Then, his supernatural gaze, like a divine beam of light, sternly fell upon the black-armored priest, piercing through his power armor, skin, muscles, nerves, blood vessels, and bones, examining every possible trace of contamination. Any signs of mutation and corruption would be laid bare under the dissection and exposure of his soul.

Mephisto observed him nine times, each time more stern than the last. Julius was almost completely illuminated from within. Mephisto examined every scar and every mark on him, seeing the fate contained within them.

However, the more he looked, the more uneasy the chief think tank felt: everywhere there were traces of what seemed to be the corruption of the Four Gods, but when he glanced at them again, he would find that they were all forces “under control.”

Such an assessment of an existence filled with chaos would be dismissed as laughable and naive by one's past self, but Mephisto truly saw in the power of the filthy within the human body the balance and unyielding struggle between plague and immunity; in the mark of Tzeentch, he saw the constant pursuit of truth, pragmatism, and keeping pace with the times; in the temptation of Slaanesh, he saw the openness of turning restraint into a part of desire, acknowledging the existence of desire and soothing it; and even more so, in the sword formed by fearless anger, he saw something completely opposite—a vision of protection.

Mephisto's worldview is being turned upside down by what he has witnessed firsthand: how such contradictory entities, where light and darkness coexist, can appear so stably in the world.

If he... is truly human, then all the excuses of everyone involved in the many events he has witnessed in the past will seem utterly childish and ridiculous...

The tips of the wings gently brushed against his light golden hair, and the faint fragrance of roses and wildflowers wafted to his nose.

The chief think tank member turned around abruptly, only to find the statue of Saint Gilles still watching him with a half-smile.

"Now, perhaps you can tell me what Malakin said to you?"

Julius had somehow stepped down from the altar and come to Mephisto's side. The feeling of security, reliability, and the urge to confide one's deepest desires, darkness, and doubts was even stronger there.

"...He told me that he and Walter encountered a vision of Saint Gilles in a...dining hall? Here, and they did not believe it was the Saint Gilles seen by Dante, but that it was Saint Gilles."

“We have a fantastic dining hall,” Julius smiled, and Mephisto keenly noticed the silver streaks in his blond hair, a clear sign of his long life. “I personally think it’s the best dining hall in the entire galaxy. You should go there and get a drink.”

"He also told me that he might have discovered a secret about the crew of this ship, and he believes they are the legendary..."

Julius smiled.

"...The Grey Knights of the 666th Warband, this ship is their secret flagship."

Julius's smile seemed a little stiff.

"...He also said that he believed the reason the Grey Knights hadn't been discovered or confirmed was because they were always operating under the names of other chapters. This meant that most Imperial soldiers and citizens, lacking the ability to discern, had no way of knowing who the Astartes descending from the sky were. For example, this time they impersonated the Silver Skull. Unless one recognized the Silver Skull, even if the Imperial investigation came later, they would only obtain the correct paint scheme and pattern description. Who could verify those details one by one?" Julius's facial muscles seemed to be fighting between two or three different emotions.

"Finally, he told me that this was not speculation, but rather that when he was receiving treatment at the pharmacist's, your pharmacist misjudged the dosage of Malakin's drugs and left several times thinking that Malakin was still in a coma. So he opened his personal office interface and talked to visitors many times. All of this was information that Malakin obtained from their conversations and the messages he peeked at."

Julius seemed eager to beat up one of the potion masters on the ship who wrote his own extra scripts.

"Finally, Malakin's speculation is that the Grey Knights, as the secret force of the Inquisition, have used a large amount of prohibited alien technology in their equipment and modifications. Therefore, they always need to conceal their identity and existence to avoid causing a great uproar in the Imperial Army and the Terra Council."

Julius gritted his teeth and squeezed out a few words, "Heh... Our mission does indeed represent top secret, and I believe that our falsified identities will actually allow those Imperial soldiers and citizens... to live longer."

“It seems your apothecary will be punished for leaking information.” Morpheus observed the situation. “Then, can you tell me if this last guess is true?”

"What else?"... An outrageous deduction?

Master Hunsso, what kind of mind-blowing scripts have you written for Malakin?! Palogov, when are you going to come back and keep an eye on your master?! My grand, mysterious triumph speech is over, completely over! Ugh, you over there, Saint Gilles, please don't look at me like that! Hide! Hide!

"Malagin said that, judging from the content of the pharmacist's medical office interface, he strongly suspected that the miracles he and Walter witnessed on this ship, in which our genetic father appeared, were a kind of resonance between the fragments of the soul of Saint Gilles, placed on this ship as some kind of... core, and the offspring of the Holy Blood."

"..."

...Perhaps we should try to bring Palogov back to keep an eye on his master. I'm afraid that if some of the adults here knew about this play he wrote here, they would throw his master into the Star Burning Inferno first.

“Actually,” Julius explained carefully, “with your psychic abilities, you should be able to sense the powerful vision Saint Gilles left here that draws you to linger here… I am a messenger he sent, and you are here because I am responsible for delivering an important message to you on his behalf.”

"Does our father really still exist here? Really? Really? Why won't he come to us in person to show us mercy? We've waited and waited for ten thousand years, we all thought..."

Mephisto's expression changed drastically.

"No! That's not right! Don't try to mislead us! Our father's sacred remains rest in the golden coffin above Baal. He fell as a vengeful spirit, and the claws of the traitors were stained red by his sacrifice—are you here using him as a pretext because you've imprisoned fragments of our genetic father's soul? If he had any important information, why couldn't he meet with us in person instead of relying on you, a dubious person who isn't even the son of Saint Gilles?"

The psychic vortex surged again beside the Chief Think Tank, and the tornado made the candlelight in the chapel flicker. Julius had to activate the exorcism device here again.

"Let me remind you, you've felt the power of Black Wrath. Do you think the Black Angel is the kind of being that can simply slumber under someone else's scheme? In all the recent events, who has truly benefited the most? Mephisto, your father did indeed nearly fall into the terrible situation of being devoured by the Four Gods in the matter of the Vengeful Spirit. An existence's unintentional thought provided him with a glimmer of hope, and so did you, who were tainted by the curse released at the moment of his death. But the price for this hope was equally high—he ultimately accepted it. Because he could not completely sever ties with you and Baal's people. This price makes it impossible for his soul to appear in person. I have come to explain this to you as his messenger and request that the Blood Angels tacitly approve and secretly assist our existence and our forces."

"What kind of price was that?"

"The price is that he can never appear before you in person again, never speak to you in person again; he will only be a guardian in your shadows, conveying omens to you indirectly..."

"Then we can go see him! What obstacle can stop our burning desire to see our father?" Mephisto shouted. "Even if it's hell, a black hole, the lair of the Four Gods, or the will of Tyrannosaurus, we will get there and see our father!"

"Is that so? What if I told you that the last of the costs is 'if they meet, the father will die at the hands of the son'?"

For the first time, a near-blank look of despair appeared on the chief think tank's face.

Julius breathed a sigh of relief and began to complete the task that had required him to return to the Chapel of the Destiny Steel from a certain time portal at the Octa Node, all under the watchful eyes of someone watching from the shadows.

"Alright, now that you've calmed down, I think you can listen to the message I'm here to deliver. You need to immediately re-examine all members assigned to the Death Company; do everything you can to find and notify all the Blood Priests and priests of your scattered sub-companies to return to Baal for training to deal with the new situation—uh, we also need an invitation personally signed by Dante to go to Baal to convey this training material and technology; a special trade agreement for importing large quantities of coconut juice and by-products from designated traveling merchants…and you need to protect and summon all sub-companies whose situation is considered too serious or even to the point of treason to the Baal Orbit. I have some gifts from your father specifically for them…and he told Dante that he can't leave work yet."

----------

"Let me walk you to the door."

Julius smiled as he spoke, his face, which was both similar to and distinct from the Thirteenth Primarch, was surrounded by a halo of flickering candlelight, and the angelic statue-like features behind him seemed to have upturned corners of their mouths, causing Mephisto to momentarily lose his senses again.

"arrive."

He then found himself standing in front of what appeared to be the entrance to a chapel, a tall bronze doorway.

"Looking forward to our next meeting. It won't be long. Chief Think Tank."

Morpheus was suddenly startled and quickly turned around.

"Wait! There's more..."

But the chapel doors had already slowly closed, shutting out the wondrous light, smells, and images inside once again.

The curtain falls.

Mephiston found himself standing before the smooth walls of the corridor, feeling utterly lost.

(End of this chapter)