Marcus Brutus was a noble hive city aristocrat.
His family was one of the oldest and most honorable in the entire hive city, as ancient as governor Flax's family.
Brutus himself was over one hundred and sixty years old, considered long-lived under the toxic constant star of Ashford.
Other nobles also held this elder in high regard.
Of course, age was not the only reason Brutus was respected.
In the eyes of other nobles, Brutus was a gentle yet dignified, pious yet not rigid, noble aristocrat.
He was strict with his enemies but never pursued them to their complete destruction; he was gentle with his descendants but never indulged them.
He was a devout follower of the Adeptus Ministorum, always piously yet unobtrusively proclaiming the Emperor's glory.
Even after the governor abandoned the Lower Nest, and the entire Lower Nest became a dangerous gathering place for gangs,
Brutus still risked danger to enter the Lower Nest, distributing food and treating the sick among the poor.
Whenever an ignorant person mocked Brutus,
he would stubbornly and firmly tell the ignorant: "The Emperor's mercy shines equally on everyone, whether noble or poor."
"As nobles, it is our responsibility to care for the weak and needy."
His words often made his opponents feel guilty and earned the admiration of his supporters.
Brutus was truly a noble and devout aristocrat, everyone who knew him said so.
Only Brutus knew what had shaped him.
Lord Tiberius, the true master of Ashford, the true heir of the Flax family, the Prophet of the Four-Armed Emperor.
When Brutus was still young,
he was summoned by the then governor—Lord Tiberius and the parents of the usurper Augustus—
In the dark, lightless palace, Brutus was granted an audience with the young Lord Tiberius.
The great prophet Tiberius, the true governor Tiberius, the noble Tiberius!
That benevolent Lord showed Brutus the greatness and benevolence of the Four-Armed Emperor.
Brutus was moved to tears.
It was then that he realized that the disputes among nobles, the extravagant banquets, and the precious luxuries were all meaningless.
Only the love of the Four-Armed Emperor was real.
He would descend from the stars and embrace everyone,
whether noble or poor, human or mutant, intelligent or not.
Everything on this planet would return to the embrace of the Four-Armed Emperor, dancing and singing together in a pool like amniotic fluid, merging into one, without distinction.
Brutus, recalling it now, still couldn't stop crying with joy.
But the despicable usurper Augustus, driven by his greed for power, conspired with a group of foolish nobles and guards to kill his own parents and even attempted to kill Lord Tiberius, seizing the governorship.
Fortunately, Lord Tiberius escaped from the despicable usurper Augustus' grasp.
That Lord infiltrated the hive city, spreading the blessings of the Four-Armed Emperor among more and more poor people.
Meanwhile, the usurper began to try to purge the nobles who believed in the Four-Armed Emperor and were loyal to Lord Tiberius.
He did succeed in purging some of them.
But Lord Tiberius had anticipated this; he used powerful psychic abilities to block part of Brutus' memory.
It was not until many years later that this memory reappeared in Brutus' mind, allowing him to rediscover his mission.
And today, the embrace of the Four-Armed Emperor has finally arrived.
However, many ignorant Astra Militarum soldiers tried to resist this embrace, and they actually managed to temporarily hold them back!
This was mainly due to the combat prowess of Cadia and the assistance of certain factions in the Lower Nest.
The great blasphemers "Leman Russ," "Neoth," "Hoggilius. Lupaerbal," and "Alexander."
The man with myriad forms and strange weapons indeed appeared on the battlefield.
He caused much trouble for the Four-Armed Emperor, slowing the Four-Armed Emperor's advance.
This cannot be. This absolutely cannot be.
Summoned by Lord Tiberius and listening to the voice of the Four-Armed Emperor, Brutus received the Prophet Apostles who emerged from the pipelines.
Those noble purebloods with four arms and sacred purple skin.
With their help, Brutus quickly gained control of many nobles.
He would hold them hostage, heading to the Lower Nest under the guise of aid, to flank the despicable Astra Militarum alongside the Four-Armed Emperor's tentacles.
On the way down from the Top hive, Brutus saw many panicked people being evacuated.
They were to be taken to Port Mefas, from where they would await transport ships for evacuation.
But Brutus did not intend to stop them, for he knew the Four-Armed Emperor's fleet still controlled the stars.
They would not find an opportunity to evacuate anytime soon, only to crowd in the port.
And once Brutus dealt with the Astra Militarum, they too would return to the embrace of the Four-Armed Emperor.
A viscous pool like amniotic fluid,
a warm pool like before birth,
everything would melt within it, a pool for joyful singing and dancing.
Marcus was so moved he was on the verge of tears.
He was very confident that he would achieve victory.
Now the Netherworld Star System was besieged, the will of the Four-Armed Emperor enveloped it, and Warp travel became extremely difficult.
Without Warp travel, it was almost impossible to pass through the natural barrier that the Adamant Shield once protected, which now served as a cage.
The Astra Militarum must now be desperate for reinforcements and would not refuse the support of noble private armies.
And hidden among the nobles and their private armies were the purebloods with four arms and the Four-Armed Emperor's angels called "Lictor."
We will win!
Brutus thought firmly.
Invisible Lictor angels held the nobles hostage, making them stumble little by little towards the passage from the Upper hive to the Lower Nest.
They passed through the burnt streets of the Ninth District and saw General Drost and the great blasphemer "Alexander" standing at the entrance to the passage.
The two of them stood before a squad of Cadia soldiers armed with lasguns, the great blasphemer "Alexander" wearing that comical hat.
The moment he saw Alexander, a flicker of disgust flashed in Brutus' eyes.
It was this man, this blasphemous scoundrel,
who not only hunted bishops and commanders, harmed Lord Tiberius,
but also became the most fervent stop of the Four-Armed Emperor's embrace.
He not only massacred the Four-Armed Emperor's angels but also plundered the Four-Armed Emperor's precious biomass.
Blasphemy! Disgusting! Bah!
But long years of noble training allowed Brutus to hide his disgust behind a faint smile.
He slowly stepped forward, looked at General Drost and Alexander, and said:
"Two glorious sirs, two loyal servants of the Emperor, I am Marcus of the Brutus family, a devout follower of the Emperor."
Brutus solemnly declared:
"They, however, are sinners, cowards, pathetic individuals who hid in their shelters and allowed the populace to die."
"I have brought them and compelled them to contribute their private armies to help you fight the xenos!"
This was the reason Brutus had thought of long ago.
It could explain why the nobles were trembling and why they suddenly offered support.
Because Brutus had used coercive means to force the nobles to reveal their strength.
The nobles trembled and nodded.
The invisible Lictors hid beside the nobles, coercing them with unseen claws.
Clap, clap, clap, clap----
Applause erupted.
Brutus watched as the great blasphemer Alexander stepped forward, enthusiastically applauding him.
"Great!"
He praised with a moved expression:
"You are truly a great and devout noble!"
"Your selflessness shocks us; you are as selfless as a Skaven!"
"Your piety moves us; you are as pious as the ancient sages who wrote the Holy Word Records!"
"Your dedication makes us grateful; you are as dedicated as that bald man with the Centaur ring."
"Your kindness, moreover, earns our admiration; you are as kind as that great benevolent person with scriptures tattooed on his face!"
The great blasphemer Alexander's mouth was full of incomprehensible words.
But Brutus could tell from his tone
that this was praise, gratitude, and commendation for him.
This made Brutus feel a hint of smugness in his heart.
The so-called great blasphemer Alexander was nothing special; he fell for his trick so easily.
"We are all devout followers of the Emperor; everything is dedicated to the Emperor."
Brutus piously performed an aquila salute.
"Yes, yes," the great blasphemer Alexander nodded repeatedly.
He also performed a devout aquila salute, casting an ardent gaze at Brutus.
"Let us praise loudly!"
Alexander raised his voice and said:
"Praise the Four-Armed Emperor! Four-Armed Emperor yes! yes!"
Brutus instinctively nodded: "Praise the Four-Armed Empe—huh?"
Sizzle!!!
A searing laser pierced his chest, burning his internal organs as if they were being cut a thousand times, his blood boiling.
Marcus stared blankly at the scene before him.
The lasguns in the hands of the Cadia soldiers flew up out of nowhere, circling around Alexander.
Forty or fifty lasguns floated around him, and searing laser beams shot out in a dense torrent.
Even the Lictors hiding in the shadows could not escape this dense laser bombardment.
"Why—" Brutus uttered hoarsely, then fell heavily to the ground.
He widened his eyes, watching the Cadians rush towards the nobles with abnormal speed.
He also saw balls of scorching psychic flames begin to burn at the end of the noble procession.
At the last moment, Brutus seemed to see the face of Augustus appear on the battlefield.
Psychic flames blazed in the air, coiling around the genestealer hiding among the noble's private guards.
"Argh! Argh! Argh! Argh!" Agonized screams erupted from the crowd.
A group of psykers, robed and with a hint of madness in their eyes, appeared behind the genestealer at some unknown moment.
These psykers wielded staves, roaring as they unleashed their psychic powers.
Unquenchable soul-fire and scorching psychic lightning roared forth, piercing into the bodies of one Pureblood genestealer after another.
General Drost looked on in astonishment at this scene.
Where did such a powerful psyker unit come from?
Most of the Imperium's psykers would be taken away by Black Ships; it was impossible for scattered, illegal psyker to form a unit.
There was only one possibility: someone in a high position had secretly taken in a large number of illegal psyker who had escaped from the Black Ships.
General Drost frowned, looking at the scrawny old man protected by the psyker.
The other man was younger than him, but seemed to have been ravaged by endless fear, becoming frail and old.
General Drost recognized him at a glance.
governor Augustus Flax, that cowardly fellow who hid in the shelter, and he also had a conflict with Alexander.
Alexander casually reached out, pressed down on the head of a Pureblood genestealer, tore it off, crushed it into a ball, and tossed it aside.
He looked at Augustus, who was hiding under the protection of the psyker.
"Oi, you're here?" Alexander grinned.
His figure flickered slightly, dodging a Lictor that had been hiding in the gaps of light and shadow, attempting to ambush him.
Sanguinius, with its dazzling, brilliant light, marked out all the invisible Lictors.
Alexander grabbed the Lictor's claw, forcefully yanked it downwards, tearing off its claw, and before it could react, stuffed it into his four-dimensional pocket.
This was to prevent the Lictor's consciousness from returning to the hive mind after its death.
Alexander took a few steps forward, and in the blink of an eye, he arrived in front of governor Augustus.
The psyker guarding the governor quickly blocked Alexander's path.
"Stand still!!!" a psyker closest to Augustus took a deep breath, a surge of psychic power emanating from him, and shouted loudly.
Another Seducer's Whisper? Do you psyker all like to play this trick?
Alexander shook his head, speechless for a moment.
This guy's psychic power was not even comparable to Reyna's; it had no effect on him at all.
Alexander gently flicked his finger, and an invisible telekinetic force directly slammed into the psyker, sending him flying heavily.
The faces of the psyker guarding governor Augustus immediately showed traces of fear.
The man just now was almost one of the strongest psyker among them, yet he was instantly defeated by Alexander with a casual move.
Augustus, however, was not surprised, just as Alexander was not surprised by his appearance.
Alexander understood what kind of person Augustus was: timid, but if pushed to a certain extent, he would begin to fight back.
His dealings with the genestealer patriarch years ago, and his attempt to kill Alexander a while ago, were both like this.
Now, the battle situation across Ashford was getting worse and worse, and the genestealer were also beginning to appear on the battlefield.
Augustus had made the correct choice to have his psyker unit participate in the battle.
"Servitor?" Alexander raised an eyebrow, looking at governor Augustus and asking.
"Servitor." Augustus said, his voice hoarse, nodding.
This was a Servitor he had once commissioned Archmagos Belisarius Cawl to create, its appearance and actions almost perfectly synchronized with Augustus.
"I came to support you all, with these psyker units."
Augustus seemed to fear Alexander misunderstanding, and pointed to the psyker beside him, saying:
"They will be under your command."
"Me?" Alexander raised his eyebrows slightly; this was a bit unexpected for him.
"I'm not a fool; I know who is most capable, and who can best utilize them." Augustus stared at Alexander dryly and said.
"Is that so?" Alexander shrugged, then turned to look at General Drost, who was commanding the Cadian Shock Troopers to clear out the remaining genestealer.
The part of the Cadian Shock Troopers he was currently commanding had been enhanced by Alexander using a Speed-up Clockwork; their movement speed and reaction time were far beyond ordinary people.
Having already undergone excellent training, they were now not inferior even when facing Pureblood genestealers.
"General Drost! I have a unit of illegal psyker here for you to command!"
Alexander said, pointing to the illegal psyker beside him.
Commanding troops? He wasn't good at it, nor did he have the inclination.
Helping the Astra Militarum hold out until now was enough; many residents on Ashford had already been evacuated to the Upper hive, moving further towards the spaceport.
Alexander planned to leave soon, when the Cadian Shock Troopers began their retreat to the spaceport.
At that time, his usefulness on the battlefield would be minimal, and Alexander himself had some things he absolutely had to do and could no longer stay with the Astra Militarum.
"illegal psyker?" General Drost's voice rose a notch; he seemed somewhat reluctant.
It was no wonder General Drost was wary.
illegal psyker were prone to losing control or falling into madness, even transforming into Warp gates that allowed daemons to invade reality.
Especially since General Drost noticed that these illegal psyker' eyes carried a greater or lesser degree of madness.
It was unclear whether it was the result of the Warp Shadow's influence or if they were already mentally unstable.
"Ah, well, it's still a help." General Drost said with a hint of disdain.
Considering the existence of the Warp Shadow, which prevented those blasphemous creations from the Empyrean from invading reality, the risks posed by these illegal psyker were generally controllable.
Watching Alexander unhesitatingly hand over command of the psyker unit, and General Drost seemingly accepting the command with some reluctance, Augustus' cheek twitched slightly.
How had the psyker unit, which he had spent decades cultivating, become an object of disdain in their eyes?
Augustus took a deep breath and asked in a low voice: "Is this enough to spare my life?"
If it was just being hunted by Tiberius, Augustus felt he still had some hope of escape.
But if Alexander was added to the mix, he felt his hope was slim.
"..Huh?" Alexander's eyes suddenly showed some disdain as he looked at Augustus: "Do you still remember who you are? Augustus."
"You are the governor of Ashford; everything you are doing now is not an extra sacrifice, but your own duty."
"In this Imperium, everyone has their own responsibilities. You enjoyed the luxurious life that being governor brought, so you should protect this planet."
Alexander patted Augustus' shoulder:
"Open your eyes and look; those Lower Nest thugs fighting the Tyranid are the ones truly making sacrifices. They are bearing the responsibility you should have paid."
"Spare your life? Many better people than you have died because of this. By what right do you continue to live?"
Augustus was at a loss for how to retort Alexander for a moment.
Alexander heavily punched Augustus' shoulder.
This was how Lower Nest gang thugs greeted each other; Augustus' only response was a blank stare.
"Ashford has reached its final moments, and so have you."
"Gather some courage, governor."
Alexander chuckled lightly:
"At least fulfill some of the duties you failed to fulfill in the past."
With that, Alexander turned and left.
As the genestealer launched their attack, the Tyranid in the Lower Nest also attacked. He and General Drost needed to turn back to support the Lower Nest.
The Tyranid once again demonstrated their superb combat proficiency.
When the genestealer in the Upper hive were ambushed and annihilated by the Astra Militarum, the hive mind must have immediately realized its plan had failed.
The Tyranid in the Lower Nest rapidly began to retreat, no longer wasting excess biomass in a hopeless fight.
Moreover, through the eyes of the genestealer and Lictors, the hive mind must have also seen that Alexander was heading to the Lower Nest.
To preserve its biomass, the hive mind fled without hesitation.
By the time Alexander arrived at the Lower Nest, most of the Tyranid had already retreated, and even the corpses of the dead Tyranid had been mostly recovered by the Ripper.
Under the gaze of the Sanguinius statue, not far from the three-way junction stronghold, Alexander walked with a sense of helplessness through the ruins created by the battles between the Cadian and the Tyranid.
Alexander hoped to find the corpses of some node organisms or Tyranid Behemoths that had not been recovered by the Tyranid.
But Alexander only found some relatively low-level Tyranid, barely making over a hundred thousand in income.
"Ouch, ouch, ouch."
Suddenly, Alexander heard several wails from the ruins, very unpleasant wails.
Alexander was stunned for a moment, because he found the sound somewhat familiar.
He followed the direction of the sound and walked over, only to see a small, curled-up figure lying in the ruins.
The person was clutching his stomach, squeezed between the ruins like a cooked shrimp, wailing softly.
He was not wearing Cadian equipment, so he was probably a member of the hive city thugs.
Alexander approached the person, who, immersed in pain, did not notice Alexander's approach.
Alexander reached out and twisted the person's head around.
"Zhou… Alexander, buddy?"
The person had an extremely ugly face, and a horrifying bloody hole had been opened in his stomach, with his internal organs exposed to the air.
He clutched his rotten organs tightly, preventing them from spilling out.
"Lager?" Alexander was stunned for a moment, looking at the dying man in front of him and saying.
Alexander looked at Lager, who was lying on the ground, groaning in pain.
"Alexander," Lager's voice stretched, his already grayish-white face turning even paler from blood loss.
Lager gasped short, ragged breaths, his voice full of agony.
Alexander couldn't help but sigh.
Although this guy was a scoundrel and a jerk, and had tricked him several times,
in the Lower Nest, he wasn't particularly malicious, and he was an acquaintance Alexander had known for many years.
Seeing him on the verge of death, Alexander couldn't help but feel a little pity.
"I thought you'd never die," Alexander said, shaking his head.
Lager was always good at self-preservation; he'd survived countless gang wars, earning him the nickname 'Legendary Survivor King of the Lower Nest.'
But it seemed his survival skills were of little use against the Tyranid.
"I'm so unlucky…" Lager said, on the verge of tears, "I… I clearly killed that Termagaunt."
"But… but I wanted to pick up the gun it dropped, and who knew that gun was actually alive… It fired at me!"
Alexander was speechless listening to Lager's words.
He couldn't help but rub his temples, and that bit of pity in his heart immediately vanished, because...
"Didn't you read that little booklet I gave you? 'An Ogryn's Guide to Tyranid Biology.'"
"I specifically wrote in large, bold, red letters: 'The Termagaunt's gun is a symbiotic Tyranid. After killing the Termagaunt, finish off the carnivorous gun. Absolutely do not attempt to pick up Tyranid weapons to use.'"
When Alexander wrote that Tyranid biology guide, he considered that gang thugs might do something like this, so he specifically emphasized this point.
But Lager clearly hadn't read it at all.
"Ah—————"
Listening to Alexander's words, Lager's voice suddenly stretched out:
"I… I figured… I get a headache just looking at books!"
Indeed, Alexander couldn't help but shake his head.
"Then you can't blame anyone else," he sighed, "You died for the Emperor. Your soul will return to the Golden Throne."
"No, Alexander," Lager said, his face full of pain, "I haven't had any amasec yet… I want to drink it…"
"At a time like this, you're still thinking about alcohol? Where am I supposed to get you amasec?"
Alexander said, looking speechless.
At this moment, where could Alexander find a bottle of amasec for Lager?
By the time he came back, Lager would probably be long dead. Hmm?
He paused, then suddenly remembered that he seemed to have a flask of amasec on him.
"Consider yourself lucky," Alexander shrugged, pulling out the patterned flask from his four-dimensional pocket.
This flask was General Drost's treasured possession, later stolen by the Lyttin, and then won by Alexander in a shooting competition.
It just so happened to contain General Drost's treasured amasec.
The moment Lager saw the flask, his eyes lit up: "amasec?"
Alexander nodded.
"Alexander, let me have a sip, just one sip… Then it'll be worth it even if I die!" Lager said, his expression full of anticipation.
Alexander gestured for Lager to open his mouth, and Lager quickly complied.
Alexander twisted open the cap and poured the translucent liquor into Lager's mouth. Lager happily took a big gulp.
Then his expression immediately changed from joy to dismay and disbelief.
"It's… it's not good…" Lager said, his face full of pain, his wavering eyes filled with a sense of disillusioned emptiness.
"No way, this is General Drost's prized collection."
Alexander picked up the flask and took a sip.
"Pah, it's both spicy and fishy."
He couldn't help but spit it out.
The taste wasn't even as good as the crimson liquor One-Eye brewed, which was full of technology and harsh ingredients.
The alcohol content of this amasec was too high; it was just fiery and spicy, and after one sip, Alexander felt his mouth burning.
General Drost's taste was perhaps a bit too unique.
"How could it be so awful…" Lager said, his voice a little hollow.
Alexander sighed softly.
Lager had wanted to taste amasec his whole life, and now, on the verge of death, he took a sip only to discover that the thing he had pursued his entire life was terribly unpalatable.
"You just…"
"Over here! There seems to be a casualty over here!" Before Alexander could finish speaking, a medic, accompanied by other Astra Militarum soldiers, quickly walked over.
"Lord Alexander." The medic nodded slightly towards Alexander.
Alexander paused, then remembered that due to the Tyranid's voluntary retreat in this battle, the Astra Militarum's casualties were not severe, and the medic's pressure was not great.
Alexander watched as the medic began to squat down to treat Lager, his mouth twitching slightly.
"Is there still a risk of recovery?" Alexander asked, looking at the medic and Lager.
"..That's it?" The medic pointed at Lager and said, "This is considered a minor injury in Cadia at most."
The medic injected some kind of serum into Lager's body, and Lager immediately let out a wail.
This almost made the medic drop the surgical tools in his hand.
"Slap!!!" The medic slapped Lager across the face.
"What are you howling about? This little injury, isn't it just a few rotten intestines?"
"Inject yourself with anesthetic, quickly!"
Watching the medic skillfully begin treatment, Alexander couldn't help but shake his head, holding his forehead.
It seemed that even the Tyranid could not kill the Legendary Survivor King.
On the Avenging Blade, Star Speakers and navigators were dying.
And this flagship of the Blood Angels was slowly piercing through the thick Warp Shadow, like a sharp blade falling into a swamp.
Frightening beast roars occasionally echoed from the thick shadow woven by the hive mind.
Even though Dante had seen countless terrifying enemies throughout his long life, he still found it horrifying to hear the hungry voices in the Warp Shadow.
The Avenging Blade had to briefly return to the real universe.
Only because the Warp Shadow was growing thicker, and Warp travel was becoming increasingly difficult.
Dante, the Chapter Master of the Blood Angels, ordered to rush to the Netherworld Star System at the fastest possible speed, regardless of the cost.
Only because he knew that the current strength of the Netherworld Star System was simply insufficient to resist the Tyranid.
If sacrifice could allow the Avenging Blade to reach the Netherworld Star System at maximum speed, and thereby save more people, eliminate more Tyranid, and ultimately save Baal, then everything would be worth it.
But as they approached the Netherworld Star System, Dante understood that the navigators and Star Speakers needed rest and regrouping to gather the strength to penetrate the shadow shrouding the Netherworld Star System.
The entire Avenging Blade began to travel at sub-light speed in the real universe.
A tangible vibration and hum, mixed with the smell of oil from the machinery, entered Dante's nose.
This reminded Dante that they had temporarily returned to the stable real universe, not the terrifying Warp.
The fatigue on Dante's body eased slightly, but the weariness in his heart remained intense.
He needed some guidance.
Dante turned a corner and entered a dimly lit cabin.
Bright candles were lit in the room, and pale candlelight flickered on the table.
Some scriptures that Dante didn't quite understand were written in every corner of the room.
And standing in the center of the room, waiting for Dante, was a psyker brother, pale as death, his hair more white than golden, clad in blood-red power armor.
"My Lord."
His voice was dry and hollow, soft like the unknown murmurs of the night.
Dante looked at the man before him; he could sense that something within his Chief Librarian was closer to the night.
This might be why he had arranged this place almost in darkness. It was almost like a temple for worshipping the dead.
Dante often suspected that the Chief Librarian before him was an undead being who didn't need to breathe; he had suspected it more than once.
"Mephiston." Dante spoke his Chief Librarian's name: "Do we need this room to be so dim?"
"Not out of aversion, My Lord, but the night is more conducive to awakening psychic potential."
Mephiston gently lowered his head, looking at the stack of exquisite emperor tarot cards on the table, and said:
"Furthermore, the guidance you seek is not simple."
It seemed he had made all preparations before his arrival.
Dante intended to seek guidance; even with some doubts, he still asked Mephiston to use the emperor tarot to inquire about the Emperor's will.
Dante's past life experiences had proven that the emperor tarot was indeed effective.
And divination performed through rigorous rituals by powerful and loyal Librarians was even more effective.
Although Dante often had doubts about the existence of his Chief Librarian, because Dante could always vaguely sense Mephiston's inner self.
An Blood Angels who had overcome the Black Rage.
In the years when Mephiston was still known as Calistarius, he was overcome by the Bloodthirst and the Black Rage, and was assigned to the Death Company, destined to serve the Emperor with his final death and escape the torment of Bloodthirst and Black Rage.
But ultimately, Mephiston survived a danger that was almost close to death, and eventually overcame the Black Rage through some unknown means.
However, Dante knew that this process must have forever changed his Chief Librarian.
But his loyalty was also beyond doubt. Dante thought so.
He walked to Mephiston's front and looked at the emperor tarot on the table.
"My Lord, why is your heart confused? And what do you wish to know?" Mephiston's dry, hollow voice became slightly authoritative.
"I seek the Emperor's guidance. What is the situation in the Netherworld Star System?" Dante asked.
Mephiston slowly drew out three cards.
The first card depicted a shattered planet, portending a great catastrophe.
"A shattered planet, the Netherworld Star System is almost completely overrun," Mephiston slowly said.
Then he and Dante looked at the second card. The second card showed a Cadia warrior standing on a fortress.
"The Fortress World of Cadia, the mortals of the Astra Militarum are still holding strong."
This brought joy and approval to Dante's eyes. The mortals had held their ground; there was still hope.
Then their gazes fell on the third card.
"The third card… the omnissiah, foretelling where our hope lies. Hmm??"
Mephiston's words stopped halfway, his voice suddenly ceasing.
He remembered the card of the omnissiah: it was a god composed of constantly rotating gears and machinery against a crimson velvet background.
However, in an instant, the velvet seemed to turn blue, and the god composed of gears and machinery seemed to transform into a blue raccoon cat.
This vision was only a fleeting glimpse.
"What does this… portend?" Dante asked, bewildered.
Mephiston shook his head, looking utterly confused.
"I don't know!" he said.