Warhammer: Start with a dog

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The face of Ahriman when he was a warrior of the Thousand Sons looked face to face at the visor of what Ahriman had become 10,000 years later. The silver visor vaguely reflected Ahriman's own face, like a Two ends of a mirror.

They were relatively speechless.

At this moment, everyone was so shocked by the solidified invisible power that they held their breath, and even the dust in the webway seemed to have stopped falling.

The silver-armored giant stared at the leader of the exiled warband opposite, Xin Liezhi's favorite toy and God's Chosen, exiled by the Father of Genes, with his deep blue eyes from Prospero's bloodline, which were almost jet black. The former chief think tank of the Thousand Sons, the intruder and thief of the Black Library and the Library of Terra, Azek Ahriman who has been lost for infinite time in the pursuit of answers that will never be answered.

From his evil staff hanging with a small bag of Prospero's dust, to the evil eye in the center of his helmet that connects to his senses, and the six exaggerated and gorgeous curved long swords on the Great Crusade-style helmet. horn.

The pair of deep blue eyes gently but prudently brushed over Ahriman's broad shoulders, glancing over the wizard's gorgeous power armor, exuding bright blue brilliance, and the ends of the broad holy belts hanging down from the sides of his head and neck were filled with powerful symbols. The skull of a psychic creature has many spells composed of lost words written on the gorgeous cloth.

The power accumulated by Tzeentch's love object for countless thousands of years is so majestic. In the vision of the psyker, the whole body of the great mage exudes bright blue fluorescence, and his eyes are still powerful, like spiritual beings. It can be condensed into a molten magma core that is constantly churning and radiating vast power outwards.

"Ormuzd?—Is that you?"

They saw something trembling beneath Azek Ahriman's famous horned helmet, taken from Magnus' adoptive father, and asked the question that concerned many.

Even the head of the staff held by the chief wizard was unstable and emitting instantaneous flames of psychic energy, showing how restless his mood was. But soon, the initial joy in his voice was replaced by an angry and deceived tone. Hatred was replaced by a return to calm.

"That's it again. That mimicry again," he said, "Don't call me by that name, you demonic creature of the damned. There are always demons trying to use this to gain my weakness and unload on me. This is not the first time. You are just a statue made of flesh and blood, sent to shake me and confuse me. You are not my brother."

"Really? Then I'm sorry." The other party smiled sadly but tolerantly. When the warrior who suddenly appeared did not speak through the helmet's loudspeaker grille, the voice was disturbingly more like Ahriman. , the time and stories that have passed in their voices are like two barrels of wine placed at opposite ends of the cellar, and it is impossible to distinguish between the two.

What makes the Supreme Sorcerers who are familiar with Ahriman even more frightened from the bottom of their hearts is the habit of this silver-armored Astartes when he turns to look at them with his eyes: tilting his head imperceptibly, with that stern look. Their deep blue eyes, which also radiated bright blue light in their psychic vision, and their pursed thin lips seemed to be about to spit out severe criticism and precise criticism of the content and format of the paper they had carefully written all night long.

For a moment, the tension, the panic, and the sour feeling that made one's teeth ache during the Prospero school's thesis defense ten thousand years ago passed through the Thousand Sons again as if they were awakened from ancient memories. The wizard's heart felt like he was in another world for a moment.

"Manutek." The terrifying first company commander and lecturer of the Black Crow School's temple opened his lips and began to name names, as if it was like the sound of doomsday that made people tremble with fear and fear, "Sa Nacht, Ignis, Chtises, Ziu, Gilgamesh, Gomoda, Yonatra..."

Every Supreme Sorcerer or warband wizard sergeant whose name he called subconsciously shrank their necks - some wizards who had been so deeply blessed by Tzeentch that they had turned into a bird-headed body were still uneasily trying to hide their Beaks or mutated limbs, some people subconsciously looked away.

——How come this warrior of the damned with the face of Ahriman recognizes each of their names?

A strong unpleasant feeling of being calculated intentionally and unintentionally surged into their hearts. The thread of fate became a mess in front of their eyes, but they could not escape. The structure of nine Thousand Sons wizards loyal to one person was destined to be as long as Ahriman. They can't leave here without planning to retreat.

At the same time, they realized even more uneasily that as he called his name, an equal number of warriors stood out from the silent and waiting line of silver warriors behind him, also holding long-handled weapons, sacred, heavy, restrained and patient bright weapons. Silver armor tightly wrapped their bodies, and each of them was a powerful psyker.

The human defenders watching the battle were also quite surprised by this.

"Are these warriors all think tanks? This is a serious violation of the staffing regulations of the Codex Astartes."

"Not only is it a violation, even when there is no Holy Code, this is something wrong. Moreover, the style of their Terminator power armor has been adjusted, and the quantity is obviously excessive. I dare say that it is not from Mars and other forging worlds. Mass production type. Perhaps, a secret forge world or base that has never been discovered."

"Well, at least we can reasonably speculate that they are most likely not the sons of Guilliman. As a descendant of Dorne, I have never seen members of the group dressed like this at the Feast of Blades."

"The scope of battle groups that can be reviewed and judged has been greatly reduced. A very suspicious group of people. What do you think about this? Inquisitor?"

But the inquisitor, who was always suspicious of everyone, rather unusually did not bring any charges this time. She pursed her lips and seemed to be looking at their necks, and finally uttered a dry sentence, "I just said It has been verified that they are one of the Tribunal’s absolutely trustworthy partners, and there is nothing else to comment on.”

The rest of the people generally kept an informed silence about the news, but the great sage followed up at an inappropriate time.

"Really? I thought you looked like a traitor to everyone except the Imperial Guard."

"You too, Great Sage." The judge gave him a stern look. "There are at least fifty alien technology products among your technologies..."

"These are academic samples necessary for research..."

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The black embers fell softly to the ground.

"Well, everyone is here."

This warrior, who almost seemed like another possibility for Ahriman to stay in the empire, nodded and paused for a moment on the long halberd in his hand.

At first glance, the shape of its blade is just a little more curved than the common power halberd, but now the Thousand Sons wizards have discovered that it is actually a long-handled Prospero sickle sword, which is the elite of the Sekhmet Guard. Terminators.

The war blade on it is not driven by the common dynamic decomposition stance - the reason why the blue aura can effortlessly split through nothingness and metal flesh is entirely because it is condensed by pure spiritual power. A special warblade for psykers.

The weapon designed by some unknown genius is forged from moonsilver, pure silver and other silver metals. It perfectly combines the staff, psychic restraint and halberd, making it a perfect weapon for psykers, wizards and An invincible blade for anything related.

Azek Ahriman tightened his grip on his staff, but remained calm - if there was a real battle between magic and psychic powers, he was confident that only Magnus, who had banished him, could stand up to him in the universe. , as for the great power on it...his sensitive and intelligent mind strangely automatically ignored the comparison between himself and Xin Liezhi.

The leaders of both sides raised their weapons.

A sense of fear of destruction of heaven and earth suddenly enveloped everyone's hearts, and they subconsciously turned their backs or heads.

The next moment, the people protected by the defensive shield drawn by Malcador had to close their eyes or turn their heads - especially those with psychic abilities - they could only hear the only words that could be observed through mechanical observation. The great sage's grunts from data observation were used to judge the progress of the matter:

"Oh, my God, the equivalent of this spiritual energy and photothermal radiation...this level of high-energy ray readings, Ohm Messiah's battery, are they really still human? This has reached the point where in theory it should start to produce basic The collision energy of high-energy particles! Magic + level? How can a body of flesh and blood contain such violent and destructive power without being burned to ashes... Wait, if you look at it this way, we have drawn up this defensive shield that can withstand this level of penetration... ...Isn’t it...Oh! The limit has been reached..."

With a crisp sound, the sound of some kind of lens breaking and falling to the ground made some people close their eyes tighter.

"...How is this done? Stellar-level flames followed by a low temperature infinitely close to absolute zero...Yeah, but it's just cracked and not dead...Hey! Damn it! Use multiple cleavage attacks here that destroy the space-time structure. It's a serious foul! Do you want to kill us all? Who are you? Why is the empire so weak?

"Hmm...? I thought it would be beheading, burning and crushing the bones to ashes, but what is this? Fusion? Devouring? Attachment or proliferation? Interesting... This kind of processing scene reminds me of how the most primitive mitochondria became us Part of the cell... This feels a bit... not religious enough... maybe... well... but very enlightening..."

"Oh, O Holy Toolbox of the Om Messiah!"

The synthesized sound of the Great Sage's thoughts suddenly rose by an octave. Finally, the Inquisitor, who was also a powerful psyker, couldn't bear it any longer. She turned around slightly and forcibly resisted the sound that was warning her not to watch from all over her body. With an innate instinct to avoid danger, he used his peripheral vision to observe the battlefield between the group of silver-armored warriors and the Thousand Sons army.

The gorgeous hollow power armor decorated with blue enamel and gold was scattered on the ground. She was surprised to find that it was clean inside - there was nothing, no blood, no corpses, not even bones or anything else. They It just lay there empty, like an ownerless thing, or something that had been forgotten. After a while, the Inquisitor found himself staring at some strange yet familiar power armor.

She frowned. This shape resembled those special types of Chaos Warriors, hollow automaton-shaped power armor driven by witchcraft... Why are they here?

On top of these empty power armor pieces, the outcome has been decided between the two teams of warriors. The side of the silver-armored warriors showed an overwhelming victory without much surprise. At this time, only nine supreme wizards and Ahriman was still fighting with them, but strangely, the other silver-armored warriors just silently gathered in a circle, more like they were performing some ancient ritual than watching a duel.

"Now use the potent voodoo or whatever else you plan to use to murder me! It's time for 'Ahriman' to die!"

6◇9◇Book◇Bar

Ahriman and the cursed creature with the face of his dead brother were almost close to each other in an embrace, but they cursed with gritted teeth. Their psychic powers and spirits fiercely and ferociously tried to invade every inch of each other's existence. All kinds of micro-incredible changes in materials and rules ignited at the place of confrontation, which is exactly what the great sage who ruled had just observed and exclaimed obsessively.

"No...how dare we, sir..."

"Stop being pretentious here! Do you think I haven't noticed it? Use all the things you want to use against me on him! I can feel that his body must have used a part of me that I may have lost at some point. Cultivated by flesh and blood, if you want to replace my existence, your spells and attack effects will get twice the result with half the effort!"

"Ahriman..." The face opposite sighed, but the halberd in his hand gradually pressed the staff towards his neck, and the distance between them became one finger closer in a heartbeat.

After only a slight hesitation for a breath, nine vicious attacks with different attributes attacked the silver-armored warrior with the face of Ahriman from nine different directions at the same time.

"You traitors! Cowards! Cowards! Sure enough, you have prepared these things!" Ahriman was furious about this, but he did not forget to entangle the other party and let his body bear the vicious attack against "Azek Ahriman" .

Although the wizards who threw these attacks were immediately overwhelmed by the silvery silent opponents, these attacks targeting the root components really worked. The always solid silver armor was obviously cracked and charred, exposing the flesh inside. ——

Prospero's brown skin, very light scars that seem to be deliberately preserved, black neural interfaces, and a pair of amulets hanging around his neck——

Azek Ahriman's eyes froze.

Until the source of his life was cut open by the psychic light blade, it was still tightly stuck to the pair of talismans that had become one.

His thoughts suddenly became clear at this moment. He put aside his disappointment in his father, his hatred for the wolves, the pain of what he had done, and ten thousand years or more of loneliness, pain, struggle and sorrow. He remembered the taste of the pomegranate molasses pie they ate on the day when his mother gave him and Olmuzd a pair of talismans as mortals. It suddenly hit his taste buds after ten thousand years.

The two souls that were split into dualities in the mother's womb have been reconnected and live intimately in the same body in the physical dimension.

I see.

Olmuzd did not die this time.

So does Azek.

This is indeed Ahriman, the most complete.

But he is not Azek Ahriman.

He wanted to say something, but thick blue fluorescent blood began to pour from his mouth and nose.

"I'm sorry." He wanted to say not to be sorry, but he was surprised to find that the next words came from his own vocal cords. "But at least your soul is finally free of Him."

He looked down, and finally saw through the eyes of Grand Master Ahriman a body that was gradually losing the restraints of its human form and taking on the appearance of Tzeentch, wearing his original armor.

A warm hand rested on his shoulder.

He turned around.

Holding tightly to his brother.