Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 872 Gabriel, a man who reset the universe three times, a true hero.
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Gabriel Seth's pupils contracted to the size of pinpoints.

His two hearts, which had been beating so violently, dropped almost vertically at a 90-degree angle—becoming eerily and forcibly calm.

But this might be an illusion.

He blinked.

Because the sensation in his muscles, the feel of his weapon, and the reports inside his power armor all indicated that he had simply gone through a routine check and entered the elegant bronze doors.

The Chapter Master's office was structurally similar to those he had seen before, but in terms of comfort, it was far too relaxing for a Chapter that waged eternal war across the stars.

Not to mention the delicate and fragile flowers and green plants that only extravagant nobles would bring on their ships, the floor here is covered with overly soft carpets on mosaic marble, and there are extremely large seats on both sides that look to be made entirely of soft leather and elastic materials.

This thing inevitably reminded Seth of the Slaanesh cultists sitting on it. He turned his head away in disgust, but once he did, his gaze was glued to the wall and he couldn't look away.

Hidden within the walls, the soft sunlight gently illuminates the walls painted in the yellow of the Mishondō Palace. Perfectly placed silver-grey and black curtains, along with gold tassels, adorn the surrounding white marble, naturally guiding the viewer's gaze to the furnishings on the walls.

Gabriel Seth's gaze was no exception.

The wall he was gazing at had many stasis field niches, each illuminated by a separate lumen of soft light, protecting some unidentified manuscripts and scrolls, such as lions and old men, ancient broken swords, or crude iron nails in boxes, but Seth saw only one thing: a feather placed in a stasis field and floating in the air.

This snow-white feather was enormous, longer than Seth's entire forearm, and its shape, from the naturally arranged feather tips to the translucent feather roots, was perfect. The sunlight-colored lumen sprinkled on it made it seem to radiate a soft golden light, reflecting a ray of morning sun-like glow in Seth's bloodshot pupils.

He would never mistake the feeling that the feather gave him.

He had seen the feather before, but that was in Baal's catacombs when Dante opened Amit's reliquary for him.

This shouldn't be here! This ship, teeming with the despicable filth of the court members and businessmen, reeking of money and intrigue!

Seth trembled with a volcanic eruption of rage emanating from his heart. "Why?" he cried. "Why? Our father's lost sacred relic is here?! As far as I know, it was the last one in Amit's reliquary! Thief! Filthy thief!"

He roared as he turned around and raised his weapon at the people waiting for him in the office.

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Gabriel Seth's pupils contracted under the office lights.

He exhaled a breath of air through his nostrils, greedily inhaling the clean, 25-degree Celsius air carried by the breeze, feeling as if his lungs had been crushed and compressed before springing back up.

But this must be an illusion; no one could defeat Gabriel Seth so easily in an instant.

No one can save himself and the chapter until he does.

He blinked, feeling a faint, swollen illusion behind his eyeballs, as if they had once burst open like ripe fruit run over by a tank.

This distracted him, prompting him to glance at the internal inspection report of the power armor.

This battle armor, which, like him, was scarred yet still ferocious, was running exceptionally quietly and smoothly today. Physiological scans and event logs showed that everything was normal, with no accidents or attacks occurring.

He even felt the machine spirit whispering comforting him, and couldn't help but grin at this ridiculous thought—it was probably because the incense used here contained trace amounts of hallucinogenic drugs—Apollos had told him that he would occasionally use a little bit during his prayer ceremonies at the monastery to distract the warriors and quiet them down.

He strode into the chapter commander's office with his head held high and chest out, exuding a majestic aura that was completely different from that of his many cousins ​​in the Holy Blood Clan, like a tribal chief.

"cough."

Before that large floor-to-ceiling window, which would only appear exceptionally beautiful to the uninformed, but would be recognized by those in the know as extravagantly luxurious with its additional pane of glass and force field generator, a not-so-happy cough came from a loudspeaker bearing the name "Kedomo," attracting Seth's attention and drawing his gaze forward.

“Gabriel Seth, come forward.”

"Look who this is? An ancient elder now serving a rich scoundrel. That makes me feel much better. I'm not the first Space Marine to sell my looks, am I?"

Seth laughed loudly, though his savage body language subsided slightly, as a way of expressing his limited respect for an ancient war machine.

He glanced at the man's medals, which bore emblems of wars he had never heard of before, suggesting that the veteran might outlive Dante and that he seemed to be in a strangely pampered and well-fed state.

He must be crazy to see this feeling in a Fearless machine.

On the other hand, Seth was very uncomfortable thinking that the average lifespan of the Flesh-Tearers had deteriorated dramatically in the last thousand years, and very few Flesh-Tearers lived past two hundred years old.

Recently, he had just lost the oldest High Priest in his chapter, Carnarvon, in the Battle of Baal. Carnarvon had lived for nearly two and a half centuries before finally resting in the surface of Baal, clad in the black armor of the Death Company, alongside his brothers and Blood Knights.

Although the ancient power armor of this Defiant suggests that it likely belongs to the Silver Skull Chapter, its presence on this warship carrying Grey Knights, and its unpainted, exposed silver-grey armor, is enough to make Seth think that its eyes and nose are neither eyes nor nose.

So he walked forward rather unhappily, glancing casually at the wall as he went—

"Oh, damn it."

The scornful one suddenly shouted a curse.

But Gabriel Seth was too preoccupied to be distracted by the other man's curse.

A pure white feather reflecting the soft sunlight was captured in his pupils.

The leader of the Flesh-Tearers roared.

"[Intense Olympian profanity] You worthless universe, couldn't you have turned back time a little more so we could hide this thing!"

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Gabriel Seth's pupils contracted under the light pouring from the office door in front of him, until they became a black dot.

His head was buzzing, as if his brain had just been churned up and poured into his skull from a blender.

The sound of blood boiling and instantly vaporizing was amplified infinitely in my ears.

A sharp pain, as if he were instantly reduced to atomic particles and filling every nerve ending in his body, caused him to bend over, kneel on the ground, and cough and gag in agony.

But when he tried to end this indecent behavior and find the culprit immediately, he discovered that his power armor was reporting everything was normal, and his physical condition was as usual—not quite perfect, but good enough to continue his eternal struggle.

"If you still don't think of a solution..."

A cold and extremely displeased electronic voice came through the loudspeaker from the other end of the office, almost like a living person speaking. "Then we'll just have to see whose body gives out first."

"Uh...cough cough! Cough cough! Who...who are you talking to?"

Seth opened his mouth and found his throat parched as if on fire, a strong metallic taste filling his mouth.

"He's talking to someone I know he can hear."

It was only then that Seth realized the speaker was a silver-gray Defiant Dauntless. The man was sitting behind a desk next to the merchant ronin in the center, who was greedily staring at him with a wide grin. He was clearly a VIP on the ship.

"Ha, what a niche collecting hobby. Even Dreadnoughts?" Seth propped himself up and strode towards the central desk. "Is your weird little hobby collecting all sorts of Space Marines? A wandering merchant?"

"Of course. He's really handsome..."

Unexpectedly, the fear that Seth was familiar with when the other party saw a ferocious warrior like Gabriel, whose physique was beyond that of an ordinary Space Marine, seemed to have been completely overwhelmed by another emotion.

Those icy blue eyes burned like lightning, sharp as a penknife or chainsaw, precisely and cruelly slicing through the joints and structural gaps of his power armor, making Seth feel for a moment as if he had been stripped naked, his limbs spread out in front of this person, and put into various poses.

The sensation was so real and terrifying that the man tearing the flesh bared his canines, instinctively stopped, and assumed an extremely wary defensive posture.

"Almost, damn it..."

Upon seeing where Seth had stopped, the Defiant Fearless let out a low curse.

"You call me a devil, my Ancient Warrior? I'd be happy to discuss that with you in the gladiator cage, hmm?"

The other party seemed to be so angry that they laughed, and a sound that looked like someone inside was sneer came from the loudspeaker.

"You stupid dog who doesn't know what's good for him! How could you possibly have fallen for a guy like this?! Letting him onto this ship is lowering the average IQ and EQ of everyone here!"

“Uh,” replied the traveling merchant who had been trying to dissect and strip Seth bare behind the central desk, “He does have his merits… a very retro Ninth Legion style…”

"Enough!" Fearless roared, revealing a weapon in the palm of one of his claws. Seth immediately realized it was some kind of special energy weapon that was being charged.

He dashed to the wall with lightning speed, trying to find cover or rush towards the door—

The feather, radiating a soft glow, instantly captivated his attention, and the desire to obtain it even suppressed his violent, bloodthirsty urge to attack the others in the room.

He roared as he turned around, raising his two-handed chainsaw greatsword in a threatening gesture to intimidate the others in the room to stay away.

I knew that not a single word that gray-skinned bastard in the courtroom said was credible!

What?! You're now his favorite! You can make a wish to him! This guy is an incredibly wealthy, super-obsessed collector!

If this was the other party's intention in "trading" him, then Seth would find it hard not to suspect that if he did not resist or fight back, he would be immediately turned into a specimen and hung on the wall.

—Although being made into a specimen and hung next to the Angel's Feather didn't seem so bad, and even somewhat glorious, Gabriel Seth had no intention of dying today.

Therefore, he immediately decided to flee with this precious relic and, as the son of Saint Gilles, had a sacred duty to return it to a place where it could be properly kept.

As he reached out towards the Radiant Feather within the stasis field, he pondered the route he had taken and how to contact his chapter members to seize a Thunderhawk.

"Oh. I see."

Fearlessness seemed to be speaking to the air behind him, "That means you still care about them."

Who is it talking to?

Seth had no time to think about the question; his fingertips were almost touching the feather that was drawing him in, just a little bit... just a little bit...

An immense pressure descended upon him from behind.

Then, a golden gauntlet reached out and, with a speed too fast for Astartes to see, snatched the Radiant Feather from before his eyes.

"No--!!"

Seth roared, turned around, and swung his sword at the audacious madman who dared to steal Saint Gilles' feather right in front of him—

The figure, taller and stronger than him, grabbed his two-handed chainsaw sword, letting the serrated blades roar and scrape and scatter golden metal particles onto the expensive floor. The huge imperial eagle and the lightning representing the war of unification stung Seth's eyes, and a clenched fist adorned the other's belt.

After he could see it clearly, a fist the size of a clay pot came down from the other side with force and restraint. Seth tried to move his body, but he couldn't dodge it at all.

Before he lost consciousness, he stubbornly looked up with two clenched hearts and four clenched fangs, trying to see the true face of this impossible uninvited guest.

A death mask.

But not from Saint Gilles.

Roger Dorn’s deathly face coldly looked down at Gabriel Seth.

"Sorry. I finally made it this time."

Magna Dorn tucked the unconscious Gabriel Seth under his arm and casually put the feather that had caused such a huge mess back into the niche.

Peturabo BC snorted and sent a message from the encrypted channel.

"Our winged brothers can now directly ask you for help? Magna, you've really made something of yourself."

The Ironblood Machine Soul, clad in golden armor, calmly used electrical wires to tie Gabriel Seth to a tight knot, making him look like a dumpling, and even conveniently gagged him to prevent him from spitting out acidic saliva.

[The incident happened suddenly. Multiple resets in a short period are very bad for healthy operation. I needed to learn about this through another channel so I could take a shortcut to catch up and stop it.]

Magna Donn, ever the astute one, added, "I did a good job, didn't I, teacher?"

【Humph. 】

(End of this chapter)