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Chapter 211 The Manifestation of Saint Gilles
In the meeting held in the Blood Council Hall
Dante officially issued the order to wage war.

The Holy Blood Angels Chapter will launch a Dark Side Expedition to wipe out the Empire's enemies until peace is restored to the Dark Side.

Of course, logistics is key to supporting such a large-scale war.

As the saying goes, "An army marches on its stomach."
Launching a large-scale campaign without sufficient war resources would undoubtedly hasten the collapse of the empire's underbelly.

After the Great Rift unfolded, a warp storm raged.
Many casting and agricultural worlds have lost contact with Baal.

They were unable to provide Baal with weapons, ammunition, food, and other supplies for his Dark Side expedition.

At present, the only sector capable of meeting the logistical needs of the Dark Side Expedition is the Calissis Sector, which has undergone reforms and experienced a surge in productivity.

To resolve logistical issues, Dante personally spoke with the sector governor, Feng.

The two sides held discussions for more than three hours and reached a cooperation agreement.

Feng promised to provide ample logistical supplies for this dark expedition.

Feng also made Dante make a guarantee.

To assist the officials dispatched by the Calissis Star District government.

To promote reforms in those reclaimed parts of the world.

After the meeting, Dante went to the Sanctuary of the Thinkers, located beneath Castel Sant'Angelo.

The warden, dressed in a black cloak, stood at the dark entrance.
The flickering firelight from the brazier on the wall stretched their shadows.

Standing in the darkness, they saluted the warband commander.

After Dante returned the greeting, he stepped inside.

The underground tunnels leading to the think tank temple are like a maze, winding and endless.

The walls of the corridor are made of obsidian, which is formed from cooled lava. They are very smooth and can faintly reflect the firelight from the braziers on the walls.

Dante walked up to a huge door.
Several blood slaves, clad in crimson armor and wielding powered spears, guarded the two sides of the door.

Their eyes shone with a psychic glow in the dim light.

As servants of the Think Tank Temple, these blood slaves also possess psychic powers.

"Lord of the Holy Blood".

"Lord of the Holy Blood".

After the two blood slaves examined Dante's biomarker, they bowed to him and then opened the door to let him in.

As you walk in, you'll see towering columns, their surfaces adorned with carvings of angels and demons, supporting the dome of this underground space.

Rows of mechanical devices are neatly arranged along the cave wall, with thick pipelines weaving between the machines to provide them with energy.

In the center stands a magnificent angel sculpture.

The angel sculpture rests its right hand lightly on the rounded pommel of a greatsword made of stone.

His left hand reached forward, and a blazing ball of light, burning with intense flames, floated in his broad palm.

If there were any players here, they would definitely be screaming.

Because that scorching ball of light wasn't some kind of plasma reactor, but a real star.

During the Great Crusade, the Emperor used his immense power to bind this star with pure force, compressing it into a burning fireball.
But its quality has not changed.

Once freed from its constraints, it will rise into the sky and become a true star.

This is also the Holy Blood Angel's strongest trump card.

Dante had considered the possibility that if Baal's world failed to hold off Tyren, leading to a complete collapse,

Then he will unleash this trump card.

At that time, both Baal's people and the Tyranids will be completely reduced to ashes by the star's high temperature.

Dante could not imagine what kind of power would be needed to bind a star and make it his possession.

The emperor did just that, and even presented the star as a gift to his son, Saint Gilles.

Inside the temple were several blood angels and members of the Mechanicus dressed in scarlet robes.

Hearing footsteps, Russell, a think tank member, turned around.

When he saw Dante, a look of surprise crossed his face.

"Commander."

Dante nodded and asked, "How is Mephisto?"

"He has crossed the original casting boundary, but his vital signs continue to decline."

Lacelles moved to the side.

Make way for Dante.

Dante walked over and saw a huge iron coffin. The chief think tank member lay inside, submerged in nutrient solution.

Numerous data cables were connected to various parts of his body.

The data screen next to the iron coffin displayed a smooth data curve.
The lifeblood of the leading think tank is slowly dying out.

However, the numerous Holy Blood Angels and Mechanical Sages were powerless to help.

The transformation can only be considered complete if the creator's own will transcends the original limits; otherwise, it is a failure.

The risk of an existing Astartes becoming a Primal Forged is far greater than the risk of a mortal becoming a Primal Forged warrior through the Twenty-One Surgeries.
But Mephisto had no choice; in order to suppress the ever-growing psionic power, he had to choose Primal Forging.

Mephisto's original name was Callistarius, and he was the scribe of the First Company of the Angels of the Holy Blood.

During the Second Battle of Amegiddun, he went to Hades's hive to rescue the trapped people and became a victim of Black Fury.

After being assigned to the Death Company, he was ordered to participate in a raid on a state religious building.

He was trapped underground after the building collapsed.

For seven whole days, the trapped Callistarius was tormented by thirst for blood and dark rage.

He roared day and night, and finally, through sheer willpower, he forcefully suppressed his thirst for blood and his dark fury.
On the seventh night, he gained the power to break free and was reborn as Mephisto, the Lord of Death.

Once freed, he easily slaughtered hundreds of orc boys, causing the orcs to flee in terror.

After Morpheus returned to the group, his psychic powers grew stronger day by day, eventually leading to his promotion to chief think tank.

However, acquiring this power did not come without a price.

As Mephisto grew stronger, a black angel appeared behind him.

At the same time, an incomparably pure darkness gradually eroded his soul and flesh.

Considering the possibility of his own corruption, Mephisto, persuaded by Russell, underwent a Primitive Upgrade.

Seeing Mephisto's current state, Dante sighed.

"Hopefully he can pull through. The army will soon be assembled and head to the Rontian system."

“The chances of him being able to participate in this war are very slim,” Lacelles said.

"Ugh!"

Dante sighed softly and turned to leave.

Lacelles watched Dante leave, then turned to look at Mephistopheles lying in the iron coffin.

After hesitating for a moment, he closed his eyes and released his soul, wanting to try to summon the lost Mephisto.

…………

The original casting conversion technology, optimized by the sages and Xiling, has minimized the mortality rate.
However, there are still risks involved in the conversion process.

While in a coma, Mephisto's soul was plunged into a complex illusion.

He first returned to Bawei, his hometown.

"Tomoeichi?"

Mephisto looked around and saw a vast, boundless desert plain, with sand dunes rising at the horizon.

He had visited those sand dunes when he was young.

He knew that beneath those undulating sand dunes lay the remains of colossal buildings from humanity's golden age, remnants of human ingenuity.

Mephisto withdrew his gaze and examined his own body.

He was still a Space Marine, but he wasn't wearing power armor.
Instead, he was wearing a linen garment.

"child."

A voice called out, and a gaunt woman staggered toward them from a distance.

She was wearing faded clothes, and her face was etched with the wrinkles of time. When the woman saw Morpheus, she burst into tears.

"You've grown up, child."

Mephisto stared intently at the other person.

Long-buried memories surged forth from the depths of my mind.

This is his mother.

She personally escorted him on his journey of angelic trials.

More memories flooded in.
Growth, laughter, tears—those memories are all from his past as Callistarius.

"Stay, child, you've done enough."

The woman reached out and took Morpheus's hand.

Her hands were small and rough, yet they gave off a warm and comforting feeling.

"You are just a memory."

Morpheus's tone was calm, without the slightest hint of emotion.

"Child," the woman called out gently, "I'm your mother. You said that when you became an angel, you would come back to protect your mother."

Mephisto slowly closed his eyes, and the woman's cries grew more urgent, eventually turning into a vicious curse.

However, Mephisto ignored whatever the other party said or did.

Everything here is fake, merely memories from the subspace.

Mephisto began to undergo the trials of the past, silently reciting the ancient vows and reaffirming his beliefs.

He used meditation to construct the image of the Emperor in his mind, which was the most powerful means of resisting the corruption of the Warp.

The woman's cursing stopped.

Then came others: the crazed heretics and grotesque aliens he had killed.

They screamed for revenge, but Mephisto kept his eyes closed, resisting them with the power of his mind.

The training for think tanks is extremely rigorous and demanding.

Only in this way can their resilient spirit be forged.
Thus, we confront the madness of the subspace.

Mephisto tried to break the illusion by force, but even after the illusion created by the warp memories disappeared, he was still trapped there.

“Take a break, Kalis,” a hoarse voice whispered in Mephisto’s ear. “You’ll have to stay here for a while until things are settled before you can leave.”

Morpheus ignored the voice and continued trying to escape.

"Uh! I'm serious, Kalis, open your eyes."

The voice rang out again.
"The more you do this, the more time you waste."

After another failed attempt by Mephisto,

Realizing he truly couldn't leave this place, he slowly opened his eyes and saw the person who had spoken.

A man was standing on a distant slope watching him.
The other person was short and thin, like an ordinary resident of the satellite Bal, with his hips severely tilted to the left.

His nose was bright red and had several scratches.

The ears are positioned one above the other, lacking any sense of symmetry or beauty.
A few clumps of dry, yellow hair still grew sporadically on his scalp.
Those small eyes gleamed like flint fragments, dangerous and sharp.

Compared to the robust and graceful Mephisto, the man appeared slovenly.

“Ancient gods, you have finally opened your eyes.” The man brandished a twisted wooden staff, grinning to reveal a set of rotten teeth. “Do you remember me?”

Mephisto frowned; he couldn't remember what the other person looked like.
He lost most of his memories after being promoted to Astartes.

"I am Morpheus..."

Before he could speak, the other person lowered his voice and began to mock, "I am the Lord of Death."

"When you were still a mortal, you were a proud and arrogant little belly, and gaining power made your flaws even worse."

“You are not real, just memories from the warp,” Mephisto emphasized.

The man laughed even harder. He walked down the slope and scratched his face with his mud-covered hands.
"I felt like I was real; the texture was very realistic."

"Who exactly are you?" Mephisto asked.

"It's really heartbreaking. You used to swear you'd remember my name for the rest of your life." The man made an exaggerated expression of sadness.

“Did I make such a promise?” Mephisto shook his head. “I lost my memories of before I became an Astartes, and only retained some relationships with important members.”

"But I still can't find your memories, which means that you were just an insignificant passerby in my past heart."

The man paused for a moment, a black line appearing on his forehead.

"I really can't understand how someone with your personality has survived this long?"

"I shouldn't have stopped your father from killing you!!"

Mephiston looked at the other man. "You know my father. Judging from the looks of it, you must have been dead for a long time."

“Well, dying here is nothing!!” The man slammed his cane on the ground. “As long as you can evade the predators or those rotten gods, the End of the World is not a bad place.”

"Forget it, let's not say any more. Let's go. I'll take you where you should go."

The man turned and took a few steps, then turned back to signal the Lord of Death to follow.

Mephisto hesitated for a moment, then followed.

After a while, the two arrived at the entrance of a dark cave.

“Where is this?” Mephisto asked.

"The place where you made your choice," the man replied.

"What choice?" Mephisto asked, looking puzzled.

"Your fate, and the fate of your chapter."

The man made Mephisto stand in front of the cave.

Without any suspicion, Mephisto stepped forward.
Immediately afterwards, he was kicked into the cave by the other party.

"How dare you..."

Mephisto roared in anger as he fell.

Finally, he landed in an underground space where a vast amount of crimson crystals grew.

The towering, blood-red crystal was as smooth as a mirror, reflecting the figures of hundreds and thousands of Mephistos.

They varied in size and shape, and like a revolving lantern, they reflected the myriad aspects of life of the Lord of Death.

From childhood to adolescence, everything is available.

Mephisto glanced at it, then looked away and strode deeper into the underground space.

They encountered no danger along the way and arrived smoothly in front of a magnificent throne.

Here, he saw the Black Angel and the Golden Angel from Baal's legend.

They stood on either side of the throne, like loyal guards.

Legend has it that even before humans arrived on this planet, there were already tales of golden and black angels.

The golden angel represents kindness, purity, and innocence.

The Black Angel represents flaws, thirst, and dark rage.

Seated on the throne was an angel with a handsome face, wearing golden armor and having pure white wings.

"A sage? What are you doing here?"

At first glance, Mephisto almost mistook him for a saint.

After careful examination, it was found to be incorrect.

The saint's hair was black, while the one before him had flowing golden hair.

After confirming that the other person was indeed Saint Gillespie, Mephisto's eyes widened in disbelief.

He stuttered when he spoke.

“Saint...Saint...Gilles!! My father, what are you doing here?”

P.S.: Updates haven't been frequent enough, so here are some cute pictures to make up for it.

(End of this chapter)