Warhammer: In the Name of Ashes

Tick ​​tock...tick tock...tick tock...

The sound of dripping blood was like a pendulum forged by death, striking Saratan's still conscious consciousness.

The blood and tears had drained out of Saratan's aimless eyes, leaving only two dry dark red holes as he looked up at the silent emperor above his head.

After experiencing the physical torture he experienced, normal people rarely survive the double blow of the horrific loss of body function and the psychological hint of approaching death.

But Saratan was different. Both he and the demon who put him on the altar knew that in order to pay off the sins he had committed, Saratan would definitely persist until the last moment before the ceremony began.

Mephisto was currently standing in the hall behind the curtain of the terrace of the High Church, his claws hidden in the wide sleeves of his robe under the disguise and suggestion of psychic powers.

In order for this plan to proceed smoothly, it can be said that it has tried its best. Under the cautious disguise, even the soles of his feet were curled up and put into the narrow human leather boots, just waiting for the moment when the ceremony began.

The penetration time is still too short, and the souls it has handled, twisted and contaminated are still too few. When the Holy Scripture is about to gain momentum, they have to recall them all to deal with the tens of millions of mortals in the entire City of Divine Grace.

With the help of the eyes of these souls, Mephisto looked at the temporary venues built around the City of Divine Grace.

It watched with pleasure as those retinues, clad in human religious robes, were shouting hoarsely under the distorted double-headed eagle emblem, which had been adapted and distorted by it.

This infiltration into Ophelia was not the product of a long-planned plan. More than a hundred years of lurking and infiltration were nothing more than a fleeting episode in the eyes of this new great demon.

But this is by no means to say that the interpretation and tampering of this conspiracy are unimportant.

On the contrary, Mephisto is one of the endless offspring born from the thoughts of the Lord of Usurpers every moment.

Under the control of the charioteer of God the Father, the Prince of Demons, and Carlos the Fateweaver, and using the power of the Well of Eternity to travel through time, he came here to be treated as a lurker, but the only chance he had was to name him after birth.

Endless time is just normal in Xin Liezhi's eyes, and the same is true in the eyes of Fateweaver who controls the Well of Eternity.

Every new born demon prince is thrown into the gate of time and space he opened with the help of the power of the Well of Eternity.

In Carlos's eyes, only the souls that have survived the endless gaps of time are worthy of being honored by Father God; and only the cubs that can do something to please Father God on the basis of survival are worthy of it. When he was born, he was given the title of the All-Changing Demon King.

Ten thousand is an imaginary number, but if you can't even make one change, you can't even mention the power of ten thousand changes.

This is the watershed between the members of the highest bloodline among the endless demons under the Lord of Usurper. It is also the most cruel and cold estrangement and difference between the endless demons in the hands of Xin Liezhi.

If it could be named "All Changes" when it was born, it would be ranked among the 999th in the order of God the Father's care;

If not, then even if it is lucky enough to come back alive from the random throw at the Gate of Time, it will only be one of the countless nameless demons that Calvin killed before.

Mephisto eagerly awaits the start of this event.

When everything is doomed, or everything is denied by a completely opposite fate, its Father God will feel happy about it and will lower his favored gaze towards it.

Yes, even if there are entanglement arrangements and all kinds of calculations, as a true member of the evil god's core bloodline, Mephisto is also prepared to fail.

Its consciousness has long surpassed that of ordinary people, and the concepts of success and failure in its extraordinary perspective are not what ordinary people think.

It doesn't care about success or failure, success or failure, the success of the conspiracy is a grand ceremony dedicated to God the Father; regardless of failure, as long as it is alive, the reversal of tampering will not damage the glory of Xin Liezhi.

As a newborn demon prince, it has not yet had its own way, and it has nothing but the simplest true name.

Conspiracy or accident, Mephisto does not resist, it is also waiting for the balance of fate to make the final choice to determine the way of the Father God it will carry out.

The celebration begins in a quarter of an hour, and it's time to take a look at that sad soul trapped to death by the narrow view of success and failure of mortals.

Mephisto turned around with a smile, and his figure gradually disappeared into the air with silent footsteps.

"Your blood smell is really strong...is it because you are old?

How about we make a bet? Guess who of us will win? "

Saratan heard the familiar voice of his apprentice Morpheus and knew that the demon who brought disaster had come to him again.

The devil's sudden question almost stopped his fragile heart, but it was the devil who sensed something unusual and saved him.

"We...will win." Saratan said with difficulty after regaining consciousness.

At this time, he hated the tenacity of his own vitality. If he could die just now, everything might be different.

"Hahahaha..." Mephisto's laughter echoed wantonly, and his inhuman side gradually tore apart his fragile disguise under its indulgence.

Its inhuman voice with overlapping voices appeared again, but this time the words it spoke were incomprehensible to Saratan's consciousness.

"No, I win, or both parties win..."

The time was approaching, and the satisfied demon left the confused Saratan to meet his end in pain, and it itself put on Saratan's skin, holding his scepter and crown and appeared in the mountains like a roaring tsunami. among the celebrations.

“Only by respecting the God Emperor can one realize wisdom;

Only by respecting wisdom can we gain its liberation;

Today, under the gaze of the God Emperor, I will explain to you that there is a great confession and a great redemption..."

Morpheus's inflammatory voice reached Saratan's ears from the air outside the chapel, and he, who was crucified on the steps, was also recalling the demon's declaration and the original conversation with Calvin.

"Contemplation breeds doubt, and doubt breeds heresy..."

He finally chose to believe Calvin's guarantee, took one last look at the room where he had lived for nearly a century, and then gritted his teeth and bit off his tongue.

The severe pain was like an agreed key, opening the secret room that had been hidden in his memory for 190 years.

The memories of self-hypnotic isolation resurfaced, and Saratan's mind was clearer than ever.

As expected, the few backup methods reserved on his body have been carefully removed by the devil, but there is one last preparation he has not found by the devil, and that is his blood itself.

He swallowed all the blood flowing out of the artery at the tip of his tongue. A violent chemical reaction instantly occurred between the blood, whose composition had been changed by the ingestion of drugs, and the stomach contents!

The secret recipe of strong acid from the Court of Assassins eroded through his stomach wall the moment it was synthesized.

The strong acid raging in his organs made Saratan's whole body twitch in pain, but a ferocious smile appeared on the corner of his mouth.

The heart is the heart! The severe pain overwhelmed the fragile heart.

And when his remaining consciousness sensed the moment when his heart stopped, he also sensed that the beacon that the activation conditions had been met was instantly activated.

A psychic array centered on the chapel and quickly spreading to the entire City of Divine Grace was starting to light up with him as the center!

Redemption is coming, and even though we are trapped in darkness, we do not have to experience the light for ourselves;

Faith is reward, and if you are lucky enough to be the fuel of dawn, you will not regret it even if you die!

Feeling the pulse of the psychic beacon on his chest, Saratan lay in an uninhabited corner of the City of Divine Grace that was gradually shrouded in silver light, smiling and dying one second before dawn.

In the Imperial Calendar, 118.756.M39, Saratan, the cardinal and former supreme administrator of the Cardinal Office of the Diocese of Ophelia, died.

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