Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 895 Do Immortals Dream of Home and Children?
"I don't even need to ask to guess what thoughts are racing through Leman Russ and Pallas's minds right now."

Looking at the scene inside the crystal ball, Ramizan closed the book in his hand, clipped it with a metal bookmark, pushed it aside, then picked up a piece of Grox's char siu, dipped it in plum sauce, and happily put it into his mouth.

Peturabo BC glanced at him sideways.

"Don't eat so much! You've given me a double chin! Do you really look good when you're all chubby and healthy?!"

"...This is a sign of prosperity! Prosperity! Good fortune, you understand!"

Even so, the person reluctantly put down the two strange little wooden sticks in their hand.

"Chopsticks," that's what he called them.

"Has the cafeteria chef improved his skills lately? I really love all the new dishes he's developed!"

Someone praised, "It's like you've finally figured it out! You're really getting the hang of it!"

That's because your power has been strengthened through feedback, and our connection with "there" has been deepened imperceptibly. Some subtle changes are happening silently.

Peturabo BC thought to himself.

However, given that his personal diet had also undergone a qualitative leap, this demon lord, who greatly loved the flavors of Seres' cuisine but didn't say so, was naturally happy to see through it but not to say anything.

"What thoughts could he possibly have?"

The pigeon said irritably, "They won't have any ulterior motives, only someone as unrestrained as you... coo coo!"

The Lord of Dark Raven withdrew his hand and, amidst the astonished gazes of the crowd, wiped the juices from the char siu he had stuffed into the pigeon's beak.

"You're welcome," he said.

“So,” Ramizane said with a smile, “I’d like to ask, apparently, Alivia’s ability is almost identical to yours—a ‘commandable emotional implantation.’ Judging from the current situation, her willingness to command isn’t high; she just keeps making people feel a sense of familiarity towards her. With the aid of positive emotions, the other party only feels stronger feelings of goodwill and a stronger sense of mission. Before you entered the ‘door,’ you should have been stronger and more familiar with this ability than she was in the same category. So, this is your specialty… In that case, what did you do to Loga Orerlian and his offspring to make the Seventeenth Legion’s genetic expression turn into that exact opposite situation?”

The office seemed to have experienced tens of thousands of years of time passing in an instant, or perhaps it had witnessed a tectonic shift, a planetary upheaval like a volcanic eruption, or maybe they were sitting on an overloaded reactor with the countdown just reaching its final second—

The above is a fragmented testimony extracted from the emotional and mental buffer of a certain royal steward who unfortunately overheard this statement, during a maintenance and repair process.

Of course, in the actual Destiny Steel, because of the presence of a certain person and a certain machine spirit, everything still seemed to be normal in the end.

"I don't understand what you're saying."

After a moment of panic, the pigeon quickly regained its composure.

"What's wrong? Why did you suddenly bring up that unfilial son? Did he contact you?"

"nothing."

Ramizam said, gently tapping the cover of the book he had just read on the table.

"No one has contacted me. It's just that I suddenly had a feeling. Oh well, let's just watch the show on Moro. If my deduction is correct, there may be new information coming from Wandering Harbor soon."

The faded gold-stamped cover is printed with ancient 3K era language, which is quite different from modern High Gothic. Even the Primarchs can hardly decipher it. Only Perturabo BC, with his talent, can understand those words.

He frowned, his long beard furrowing as he thoughtfully glanced at the pigeons, then at Ramizam.

"I see……"

His keen "perception" was significantly enhanced due to the two-way influence; is it possible that he...?

Is it possible that some truth has been deduced about those things that once consumed countless efforts, time and resources of Peturabo and the other Primarchs, who circumvented the eternal limitations and hints that entangled their souls and bodies in an attempt to find clues?
Is it because he deduced the truth that his power has grown so rapidly recently? Of the four clients on the other side of the report, all but one are already teetering on the brink of collapse.

However, it could also just be a pullback... If things continue like this, in the long run, there's a high probability that it will develop into more violent fluctuations... Border Collie squinted his eyes and quietly began preparing a new memo for himself.

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"Are you feeling better, darling?"

Norma Culver asked gently, examining the surgical sutures with the meticulous care only a mother would show her daughter, "Do you need me to give you some more painkillers? The anesthesia in your surgical wound has worn off."

"No, no need. Thank you. I think it's better for me to keep the pain; it keeps me alert enough."

Alivia Suleka replied that she had just undergone a miraculous left ventricular rupture repair surgery, during which shrapnel lodged in her ribs was removed, and ruptured blood vessels were anastomosed during the bumpy drive.

Norma's face showed a moment of confusion and disapproval, but when Alivia reached out to touch her, the doctor's emotions quickly turned into gentle helplessness and understanding.

"Then call me if you need anything. I'll go tidy up the operating room."

Alyvia nodded. She couldn't move herself significantly yet; after all, she had just undergone open-chest surgery, and even immortals need a while to recover, while normal people are completely immobile.

This doctor's medical skills were indeed superb. She quietly took a breath and discovered that her heart and blood vessels had begun to repair themselves—the doctor's role here was crucial, but when it came to vitality, the immortal was still...

She turned her head with difficulty and saw the silly guy who thought he was her husband curled up by the bed, crying himself to sleep.

Honestly, why did she take them with her when she ran away? She shouldn't have taken him at all; she shouldn't have even returned to the residential area.

The love and care of a short-lived and ordinary man like Jeffrey Passers was so fragile and insignificant that it was hardly enough for someone like her to enjoy it with peace of mind.

Her gaze moved down and she saw her two daughters, who were also asleep, nestled in their father's arms like little birds. These were Jeff's two children.

After staring blankly at their tear-streaked faces for a while, Alivia silently made peace with herself.

What's wrong with her wanting to enjoy family life after living for over 20,000 years?
People like her had never been sure if they could be mothers, but when she suddenly had the idea to try it out for a while, she suddenly discovered that she was truly enjoying a genuine sense of family happiness in this family.

Despite the way she entered the family... Jeff's two daughters were not emotionally influenced by her.

She, Alivia, won the hearts of her two daughters entirely through her personality, charm, and wealth of knowledge and stories.

Admittedly, in order to enjoy such family life and social relationships, she had to deviate slightly from her duties as the Moro Guardian, but what wrong had her two lovely children done? What wrong had they done when they called her by her nickname and looked up at her with the trusting and adoring gaze one would give a mother?
When she realized that someone's creation had begun its attack on Moro and that she needed to rush to guard the door, her first reaction was not to drive away immediately but to return to the city to pick them up. At that moment, she woke up as if struck by lightning.

Someone once told her that one should focus more on the overall, macro-level mission than on the needs of insignificant individuals, therefore their attitude towards humanity was far different from their own. Similarly, she didn't think there was anything wrong with killing those hundred-odd humans who tried to uncover secrets over the past century. But now, Alivia lay here, watched over by Jeff and her two daughters, a medical vehicle at least swaying as it carried them away from the battlefield.

She then realized how absurd her past behavior of blindly following orders without any self-reflection had been.

She quietly raised her hand, trying to stroke her sleeping daughters' hair, but perhaps because she was too nervous, the girls woke up. Miska and Vivienne came over like little animals, checking on her with concern.

“Don’t worry.” She smiled at them, though it should have looked forced. “I’m ‘OK’.”

This word no longer has its original usage in the commonly used High Gothic and Common Gothic languages. Only old people like her or Or use it in this way. However, the two girls often listen to her speak and tell myths and stories from the Old Earth, so they know what she means and can imitate her way of speaking.

The older Miska nodded solemnly, while the younger Vivienne laughed.

"He also said you would be 'OK', and he wasn't lying!"

"he?"

In an instant, Alivia Sureka's heart rate reached a level that made the monitoring equipment on her body scream.

Dr. Norma rushed out of the operating room, hurriedly fiddling with the instruments and checking on her condition, and her assistant also rushed over.

"Who is he? Baby, tell me, who is he?!"

Alivia gasped for breath, the sharp pain in her heart and ribs preventing her from sitting up or jumping. She gripped Vivienne's hand tightly, but the girl, clearly frightened, quickly let go.

"That's him!" Vivienne shouted, pointing to a figure that Alivia had somehow ignored. "Lily, that's him! He said you'll be 'OK'!"

As Alyvia looked up, she found herself recognizing certain distinct genetic features on the face.

"you……"

A tall figure with gray-white hair raised a finger and placed it in front of his lips.

In an instant, the terrifying, immense void that only the immortals could feel gripped Alyvia's breath like a vacuum.

She instantly knew who the person in front of her was.

"You..." she managed to squeeze out the words, "...are you finally going to lead us down that final path?"

“No,” Death replied, “it’s not your time yet. I’ve come to ask you to lead the way.”

"Where do you want me to take you?" she asked weakly, though somewhere deep down she vaguely knew his answer.

My God, what kind of monsters did they create on Terra? Everything someone said seems meaningless in the face of such a being. Does humanity have a future? That may depend entirely on the attitude of what lies before us.

It shouldn't be... According to someone, these tools shouldn't be able to break free! It's impossible for them to break free! She watched him go in and gain such immense power! They've done so much, so much... Was it all in vain?
Death glanced around.

Alyvia then noticed that besides Miska and Vivienne, Norma and Shel were also awake and staring at them in surprise.

What terrified her even more was that two figures stood beside her death—Fenrir the Wolf and the Son of the Moon?! How could they be here?! But when she turned her head in horror to take a closer look, she found that the wolf was still in the same place, but standing next to him was another person.

"What's going on...? You guys..."

Death nodded. "It's alright. After we talk, I'll let you handle these mortals' emotions and memories yourself—you can handle it, right?"

It sounded like he was saying, "If you can't handle it, my scythe is happy to do it for you."

“Of course, of course.” Alivia’s boiling blood was gradually cooling down. Even if they weren’t Fenrir the Wolf and the Son of the Moon, she had no chance against death. She was well aware of the limits of her abilities.

"I will do my best to cooperate with all your requests, just please don't hurt them."

Her gaze fell on the two girls who had sensed something was wrong and were now huddled together in fear.

“I’m glad to hear such a sincere answer. I’m a fair person. I promise you. As long as you do as I ask.”

Is it fair? Absolutely.

Alivia was slightly relieved and nodded as much as she could.

"Swear by the sharpness of your scythe?" she tried to keep her voice from trembling.

Death seemed to be laughing behind his mask.

"You know a lot. But it's good that you met me. — I swear by the sharpness of my sickle."

Death said, “We can start by talking about what you originally planned, the exact location of that door, and how you planned to seal it—I need to be specific about the sealing steps, the scope, the time, and anything else you know.”

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The office was now so quiet you could hear a pin drop, with only the occasional soft sound of Ramizan turning the pages of his book.

Magna Dorn sat to the side as if dozing, his electronic eyes flashing with light, revealing the busy and diverse information and affairs he had to deal with in private.

Suddenly, the light in his eyes converged at one point, reforming into a blue halo.

He then turned his head toward the person behind the desk.

"Urgent message from the patrol fleet and the roaming port."

The Ironblood's machine spirit reported, "Several of our Astartes officers have suddenly gone missing."

“Ah.” Ramizane nodded. “Perhaps we will see them in the crystal ball soon… or perhaps not, it depends on the Pale King’s next move.”

He glanced at the pigeons, which had fallen completely silent.

"We haven't been able to contact them yet. Why is it that randomly fulfilling your wish at this time is no longer effective?"

(End of this chapter)