Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 884: The iconic 3v3 scene -
"Unexpected...so unexpected. Interesting souls, and many more that he might like. Perhaps the gains from this trip will be much greater than I thought."

The Pale King couldn't help but exclaim in admiration.

The War General and Slaanesh's daughter opposite him both stopped what they were doing, somewhat surprised.

In the end, Zhan Shuai asked the question first.

"What did you say? Mortarian, was that you who was just speaking to us?"

Even more like the dead in the cryogenic chambers surrounding the cemetery hall, a pair of black eyes, set into half of the deceased's face, glanced at them withered and indifferently from under the hood.

"Oh, my brother, your icy gaze is freezing my skin."

Fogrem wrinkled his nose and complained, his serpentine body seemingly disliking the cold temperature, coiling up a little further away from the chilly cryogenic chamber around him.

Milky white moonlight shone on him through the huge crack in the hall's dome, pierced by the missiles that had struck during the landing. The moving scales emitted a sweet, rotten musky scent as the demon prince moved, like the finest gems enticing one to kiss them.

The Pale King knew very well what lay behind these seemingly beautiful things, and he was now extremely grateful that everyone knew Mortarion would not remove his breathing mask.

"Oh. I'm fine."

He's currently trying to make his voice sound like that of a poorly educated Barbarosian peasant—which is actually much harder than you might imagine, you know.

Even if he could extract the feeling of his appearance, body and strength from this place and time without leaving a trace as a disguise—after all, this is actually a part of his past.

However, it's really hard to control the habit of using long and complicated sentences, obscure words, and the arrogance that comes from the natural feeling that these two "skinned brothers" are somewhat uncultured.

This must be the curse of the knowledge that Peturabo BC and the pigeon had repeatedly mentioned to him, he thought.

“That’s good.” Horus glanced at Forgrim. “And what about you? Has the creature that took over you after Istvan left? I only want to talk to Forgrim, not to plot our great cause with something else.”

“Of course, my Warlord.” A charming smile appeared on his elongated, elegant face. “I have already expelled it from my body. Now you are facing Fugrim.”

—Since you're both in costumes, you shouldn't be testing each other.

Dr. Mortalian couldn't help but mutter to himself.

“Excellent. Now we are here to address your very questions—I know you have followed me here without uttering them aloud. But I know you are wondering why we have come to this obscure world to conquer this tomb, instead of heading to Terra or wreaking havoc in various places like Loga, Koz, or the others.”

"Ah," Fugrim said sourly, "I thought you didn't know, Warlord, so what's so magical about this inanimate object—which even led to your assassination attempt by those white-scarred assassins—that attracts you so much?"

"What secrets in this tomb are important to you? If you've already obtained them, why not tell us right now?" Mortarian said bluntly.

Horus glanced at him again, but the hood and breathing mask concealed his expression too well.

“Intelligent,” the Warlord said with amusement. “Perhaps your experiences have obscured your intelligence, Mortarian, my brother, but I am glad to see your wisdom grow rapidly now that you have broken free from the shackles of our father. This will be of great help to the great things we are about to accomplish. You and your legion will be one of my most trusted arms.”

Having said that, Dr. Mortalian could only bow slightly to express his respect for those words.

Horus laughed loudly, “No need for that, my brother. I want brothers who are equals, not servants and slaves, don’t you think?”

...Seriously, Cypherus. No wonder he's the great demon who devoured the souls of Samus and Loken. His skill in persuasion is almost on par with the real Horus.

If it were "me" at this moment, I would probably already be moved by these flattering words and would consciously place myself in a lower position to obey his orders.

Dr. Motarian pondered this, then slightly altered his body language to adopt a more proud and upright posture.

As expected, a look of satisfaction appeared in Zhan Shuai's eyes. He then waved his arm and pointed to the bodies of those who lay in the cryogenic chambers, somewhere between the dead and the living.

“From the very first time humans set foot here, their initial intention in establishing this cemetery in Dwyl was to preserve the most valuable minds and the knowledge and historical truths they possessed,” he said. “Therefore, the entire cemetery can also be considered a kind of giant library, except that the books and data here are stored in the minds of those who remained until their last moments. The dead here also include many who possessed firsthand information during the Great Crusade and who accompanied many important figures. Thousands upon thousands of the most brilliant minds and thoughts are forever preserved in the moment before their passing, awaiting querying by the main server here.”

“I see.” Fogrem seemed uninterested in this.

But the Pale King was well aware of the War General's next words and actions.

“So,” he asked at the opportune moment, “that means the burial grounds of this world will also begin to accept those who once served the Emperor and the Primarchs? Is this what you’re looking for?”

"See what I said! My brother! Your intelligence will surely shine in our great cause!" Zhan Shuai nodded and waved his hand. With his movement, more important cryogenic chambers hidden inside rose from the shadows one by one, and a group of mechanical priests who originally managed this place entered the hall around him with trepidation.

Under the coercion of the Sons of Horus, they began to operate the instruments, and specks of fluorescence lit up inside the cryogenic chambers of the dead and on the control panel.

"I recently discovered that there are some vague parts in the thinking of my brain, as if it is hiding something. Memories exist, but they are elusive and elusive, shrouded in the fog of forgetting."

Horus led them toward a separately rising cryogenic chamber, where a cold, blue-white light illuminated the face of the old man inside.

Mortarion saw that the shroud on the undead man was an exquisitely embroidered gold Imperial eagle banner. Before Horus could continue his rambling boast to him and Forgrim, the Pale King had already matched the face with what he had dredged up from the depths of his memory and knew the man's name.

Jahis Wafl, a renowned orator, was extremely adept at using his persuasive skills to subdue his opponents without bloodshed. He once helped the Emperor pacify the solar system and wrote several essential readings for orators and commanders, such as how to secretly plant imperial agents in target civilizations before starting negotiations and coercion.

Horus also lured Fugrim into recalling their shared memories, eliciting surprise and confusion in the latter, thus dramatically and overwhelmingly gaining the power to persuade him to obey.

Meanwhile, Mortarion had already set his sights on the soul of the dead, which had escaped the Silent Scythe for nearly a century. Before Horus forcibly accessed the data of this soul frozen between life and death, Mortarion had already obtained everything he wanted to know.

Although he had heard Horus's speech before and knew what was going to happen, this was the first time he had directly retrieved information from the merged mind-soul of the D'Wil Mausoleum—in the major cosmic future, the D'Wil Mausoleum had already been destroyed.

As an early and renowned preacher, Jahith Wafl was well aware of the early history of the Emperors, the history of the wars of unification, and other histories of the unification of Earth's warlords and the solar system—which was fine, but the problem was that this mausoleum complex, as an ancient relic device that had been operating for an unknown period of time, contained not only the dead from Terra and the locals, but also some of the oldest from other planets.

Their souls, having escaped death, merged into one within the mechanical apparatus here, thus confirming in the eyes of some of the older dead—the ancient scholars from Moro—that Jahis Wafl knew the image of the "Emperor."

This kind of confirmation will inevitably be linked to more and older memory data by the mechanical indexing and association here.

For example, the merged soul's thoughts pointed out to him the time when the Emperor went to Moro long ago, the landing point, the length of time he stayed after landing, and a series of designs, etc.

...Honestly, I should really charge Ge Deng some compensation for the loss of his youth when I get back. How can he always be so confident that his backup plan, which relies entirely on people's self-discipline and has no alarm system in place, will definitely work?

Isn't it common sense to understand the fickleness of human nature and take multiple layers of insurance?! Wow... He really went all out! He even added these things later... I'm even a little tempted. Should I bring some good stuff back for Peturabo and the others?

Damn it. There's so much more to this than I knew at the time. It seems the place I was sent to was only marginally useful.
Mortalian pondered seriously, hoping that Pallas and Ruth wouldn't mess things up. It seemed that this big event was just the prelude; the main event was yet to come.

Meanwhile, the Warmaster's narration had reached its climax. He talked about Moro, the Emperor's mysterious visit to this world long ago, the power the Emperor obtained, becoming a god, and the vision of ascending to godhood together and taking Terra.

Fugrim looked almost breathless with excitement, his body shimmering with a faint, leaky glow from some imagined ascension to an even greater power.

“My children and I are ready!” he cried. “What are we waiting for! Let’s hurry to Moro to receive our ascension ceremony!”

coming soon.

Upon hearing this familiar call, the Pale King was immediately awakened to very specific details of his memories.

He silently repeated it to himself while glancing at the night sky.

The night sky outside the shattered dome was peaceful and serene, with only distant searchlights sweeping back and forth across the sky. Moonlight and starlight spilled onto the glass coffins of the dead in the mausoleum's hall.

Horus will then say that he only needs Death Guards...

“I only need Mortalian’s Legion, my brother,” the Warmaster said gently, while reaching out to soothe the suddenly enraged Forgrim. “I only intend for the Titans to wage this war together with the Sons of Horus and the Death Guard.”

"Then why did you summon me here?" Forgrim was enraged by the sudden disappointment that followed his initial joy. He slammed his serpent tail against the ground, leaving deep cracks. "Did you deliberately summon me all this way to humiliate me, Horus?"

“How could that be? My brother, beautiful and powerful warrior, perfect purple phoenix, I invited you here because I know that in my great cause, I need you, only you, I only need you.”

These words acted like a miraculous catalyst, instantly extinguishing Forgrim's rage. His once towering serpentine body softened, and a new smile appeared on Forgrim's distorted face. He bowed slightly to the War Commander, "Then..."

...If one of our brothers had even a tenth of that patience and speaking skill, the situation on Istvaan might have been very different.

Dr. Mortarian, who witnessed the whole thing, thought to himself, while at the same time, after the War Master finished speaking, he began to subtly adjust his posture, preparing to defend himself.

...? Why aren't they here yet? If they don't come soon...

Just when he thought his memory might be a little off, suddenly, accompanied by the roar of an engine, a bright searchlight swept across the broken hall from the night sky outside.

The reflection from the numerous glass chambers made it appear as if the light were shining on ice and snow, instantly creating a dazzling, super-bright light in the eyes of everyone not wearing helmets.

"Who is so rude..."

Then, a second and a third row of bright lampposts appeared simultaneously, along with more engine sounds. The chaotic and surging air currents caused the shattered parts of the hall to scatter fragments of decorations and building materials in all directions like an avalanche. Tiny shards of glass flew violently towards everyone in the room like a blizzard.

Against the backdrop of the black night sky, the aircraft, which had been lurking undetected for months in complete darkness, bore only a snow-white emblem that shone proudly in the silver moonlight.

The white iron palm emblem of the Iron Ten.

Oh ho, Shadrak Medusa's revenge is as precise as ever for the Iron Ten Legion, arriving just as Mortalian remembered.

The Avenger cannons on the bows of the three Flame Raptor gunships were all aimed at the three Primarchs standing together, glaring at them.

"Damn it!" someone shouted from somewhere, "What are you doing?!"

—Huh?! What are you going to do? This was Dr. Mortarian's last thought before he lunged toward the spot he had already spotted.

—Shouldn't we lie down quickly?

Six machine guns spat out endless tongues of fire, followed by twelve rockets on the side that began to unleash their ammunition onto the small platform.

The icy land of the dead instantly transformed into a scorching inferno.

Even the Primarch Guards standing around were not spared.

The universe breathed a sigh of relief, feeling as if it had survived a catastrophe.

(End of this chapter)