Chapter 448 The One Who Rubbed the Things that Were Not Together Could Be the Lord of Change or The

Chapter 448 The person who rubbed the things that were not together might be the All-Changing Demon King, or it might be...

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Where is the dividing line between witchcraft and psychic powers?

Varro Tigris is the chief think tank master of the Ultramarines, and no one can find out what he thinks about this without his unwillingness, not even Calgar.

But in fact, surprisingly but not surprisingly, Tigris did think about this problem and often thought about it, which also made his face always look thin, tired and thoughtful.

Tigris is usually found at Chapter Master Calgar's side or behind him, away from his other battle-brothers.

His innate psychic power not only gave him the ability to predict the battle trends of the Chapter and protect Ultramar, it also made him increasingly dislike staying with other battle brothers, preferring to be alone. Alone in his room in the library.

The Chief Librarian is now in the Ptolemaic Library, a true treasure trove of knowledge even across the vastness of the galaxy, containing almost inexhaustible content for a single lifetime. In the face of such knowledge, Varro Tigris can sometimes even understand a little bit of Magnus, the primarch's eagerness for knowledge before his fall.

Let me ask, when the same power can actually be used for different purposes, just like a weapon that is held in the hands of different people and leads to different fates, then who, what, or what is the origin of any entity? What about the difference between witchcraft and psionics that needs to be ultimately defined? It is not that Tigris has not thought about it, but first of all, since 10,000 years ago, the empire's attitude towards psychic energy from top to bottom has been destined to wear colored glasses from the beginning, and even if he is the chief think tank of the Ultramarines Curator, even if his speech can sometimes determine the fate of everyone in one or several worlds, even so, the more knowledge Varro Tigris reads, the more he understands that he is subordinate to him in this galaxy. How powerless the behemoth is.

Although the main problem is the purpose rather than the content itself, the identity of the differentiators and what basic cognition and understanding of the world are used to distinguish them is itself an unsolvable question.

There is no way to change some of the deep-rooted foundations and no lifeline to the future. All Varro Tigris can do now is protect his warband and his people. but……

The smoke of sacred incense and anointed candles of devotion lingered in his private meditation chamber and in the hood of his librarian. Although these items were of little real help to a psyker of Tigris's stature, they were undoubtedly useful in times of need. Gave him some good hints , Gradually, Tigris allowed himself to relax and immerse himself in some places outside the real world. It was like some kind of liquid metal flowing coldly into his blood vessels, replacing the source of his life, and his eyes closed. , and saw more things that did not belong to this world.

The inanimate beings yearn for him and seduce him all the time. The power of this loyal chief think tank lingers in front of the demons, dancing on the edge of the whirlpool of knowledge. He approaches them and rejects them coldly. The thing in the void is angry. The earth howled and Tigris simultaneously—— Every time I realize how difficult it is for a mortal to refuse these temptations. If there is not enough mental control training, a firm will, and enough things to believe in, then the soul will be drawn into the cracks of the void by the tentacles of temptation and become its food. The ending is almost destined to happen.

More fragmented lights, particles of the colorful world, and criss-crossing lines of destiny began to enter Tigris's field of vision. He suppressed his urge to swim in this vast and wonderful ocean, and at the same time began to focus his attention. On the line of events he wanted to know.

He saw many scenes: the green sky of the world was shrouded in falling bolides and artillery fire, and the figure in blue armor was nailed to the highest point of the building like a demonstration - the shameless form of the inanimate changed from red armor to Blue, a twisted face with horns poked out from the divine fearlessness - the cloak of Cato Sicarius passed in front of him along with his roar and weapons - —Suddenly there were flames rising in the gloom of the catacombs, and green color blocks passed over the white roses stained with blood--Suddenly some kind of black flying object passed over the edge of his retina, and the sound of flapping wings came, and the director of the think tank held his hand. Tightening his palm - a shining staff condensed from the storm of the void, he raised it high, alert and ready to lash out at anyone who dared to try to seduce him -

The sound of flapping wings became more obvious and urgent, as someone trudged from the distant and twisted void storm.

The cloak of the crazy coming man, who cannot be described with all the colors of the world, was rustling, but he seemed to be just trudging through an ordinary snowstorm, and those ferocious and hungry teeth and claws slapped on the surface of his black and silver power armor, except A slight tinkling noise but nothing happened.

A face lifts up, emerging from nothingness.

This is a face that Varro Tigris never thought he would see in this scene, in the void storm flow deep in the warp.

Even the most erratic view of the High Sky, the most terrifying psychic vision he had ever experienced had never been so vivid: that of Robert Guilliman who should be sitting in his eternally silent coffin in the solemn temple of the Fortress of Hera. The face was staring at Varro Tigris with his blue eyes from under a black hood.

He felt like he was falling into an ice cave. No, no, he pulled himself together. This couldn't be him. This was a place where only the most powerful psychics could immerse their spirits. Even in the glorious legendary era 10,000 years ago, their gene father was never famous for such witchcraft skills and abilities.

This couldn't be him...

Tigris silently recited the holy words, praying that the Emperor's glory would guide him back to where he started.

Then, what frightened the Chief Librarian was that, like a huge sea monster devouring his soul and body, they were eternally stuck in the moment before death, and in fact, only the last breath of life was exhaled to truly belong to the dead. This face opened his lips and spoke.

What he said to Tigris was...

"Hmm? At this time and in such a deep place? You are really brave, oh... unexpected... You have great potential and suit his taste... then it's just right, I have something to show you..."

This voice is almost exactly the voice of the Primarch that all Ultramarines have ever boldly imagined, but in its unusual youth, it carries an unparalleled historical mellowness. The power of knowledge and rules contained in it almost bent the waist of the Chief Librarian and forced him to kneel on the ground. How could anyone be able to control such a terrible truth so easily...

No, this must be a trap.

The latest bait that this group of unliving people came up with, unfortunately, "Guilliman the Psyker in the Black Armor of a Priest" is too ridiculous and exaggerated, and Varro Tigris can't be fooled. Since he can't leave for the time being, he has to defeat the entity transformed by this abominable demon to get out!

The think tank director raised the staff in his hand, and with his other hand, he gathered his strength and pushed straight at the other party, shouting out the most sacred prayer, integrating his anger into it. The powerful force rolled up the ripples of the subspace, and the lightning turned into a dragon-like electric net, rushing towards the other party to expel the hateful imposter, but his blue psychic lightning only touched the other party's body and merged into the platinum flames burning on the other party, and nothing happened except making it burn more dazzlingly.

This is a psychic who is more powerful than the chief think tank, no doubt, a crown of psychic thorns emerged from his forehead.

Tigris trembled to see that this demon looked more like their genetic father.

He took a step forward and suddenly came to Tigris in this place where time and space were no longer so certain.

"Look." He said, and slowly hooked up a certain ultramarine thread that had just passed in front of the Chief Librarian, and wove it together with other yellow and black threads, "Look."

Tigris saw several vividly colored scenes passing before his eyes, and then he found himself standing in a rose garden in an eco-dome with the nameless demon in black armor. The madness and danger that had just surrounded them disappeared like an illusion, and there was only a quiet atmosphere, cool temperature and clear breeze.

Artificial lumens cast bright sunlight from the sky that imitated the blue sky, and a wet vapor revealed that there might be a pure spring nearby for irrigation. The Chief Librarian saw the fingers of the lifeless man with the face of their father lowered and passed over two blooming roses. He looked closely and saw two roses, one white and one orange-pink, both half-hidden and half-covered in the white-gold sunlight, swaying and blooming. Next to the white rose was a rose bud that was about to bloom. Judging from the little color revealed in the bud, it seemed to be a strange gray-blue flower.

Then he found himself following the unnamed creature and walking forward to the other side of the flower bed. This time he saw it clearly.

The decoration of the flower bed was very distinctive, with silver-gray and black and a few yellow stripes. Many huge bees were moving in and out of it. The soil was black. In the distance, red or other colored beetles, worms or other pests gathered. Bumblebees were gathering to deal with them, and the roses had grown long defensive thorns. In front of the flower bed hung a metal plate with a black and white badge painted on it, and a line of words indicating the name of the nursery: Medlengard.

Tigris subconsciously looked at the devil in horror. It was his prophecy that pulled the two warriors back from the brink of execution and deprived them of all their honors, sending them to a place no one knew where it was. So he knew the meaning of this place beneath the surface in an instant.

"You are really sharp." The other party nodded, "Remember, when destiny comes, you have to be the one who promotes it, not to stop it."

"How can I believe the words of someone who can walk in such chaos?!" Tigris said sternly, "You even used the face of our glorious father, which is unforgivable!"

"This matter... It's a long story." Suddenly, some kind of horror began to approach. A huge shadow that seemed to be waving tentacles floated from the sky that was originally blue. The barking of some creatures, the stench of decay, the smell of burning feathers, the thick musk that made people dizzy, and the sound of hooves hitting the ground all poured into the ecological dome of the rose garden. "Oh... the nasty thing is coming. You should go, Tigris. This level of battle is not something your soul can bear now. You still have your own responsibilities. Go and warn your comrades and help my fighting brothers when appropriate."

What is he talking about? Fighting brothers? Is this an Astartes? Are there such people among any existing Astartes think tanks or priests...

"What..." Before the chief think tank wanted to repeat his many questions, the man in black armor with the face of his genetic father stretched out a hand towards him and gave him a push.

Then the endless falling feeling and the stinging pain of the soul reuniting with the body made the think tank director fall to the ground.

The knees of the ceramic armor hit the marble floor hard, and the metal of his palms drew traces on the patterned floor tiles.

The mechanical movement of the servitors responsible for daily maintenance in the library came, and the smell of incense and old parchment flooded into his detection nerves again.

The chief think tank sat up, dazed for a while, and then poured himself a glass of his favorite soothing drink from the crystal bottle on the side - a drink called "Quiet Midnight" from the newly developed eastern colonies. "Tea substitute - from a navigator who is willing to try After accidentally discovering that this new drink can significantly stabilize the range of psychic fluctuations and soul stability, this thing became popular in the entire Macragge psychic world within three weeks - he had to remember when to send someone there Visit this emerging colony where agricultural products are in great demand these days...

He took another sip, and the aroma of these herbs with natural psychic fluctuations gradually calmed down the prophet's mind. He stood up and prepared to go to his master's throne room to report the matter to the chapter leader.

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Soltarn vo Bronn opened his eyes again from his memories.

He looked down at his hands. Just now, he returned to the Rose Nursery in the High Sky - he knew that place, although there were not so many plants there when he left. That was on the Sky-Iron Blood , an ecological dome built under the personal supervision of the Lord of Steel In the garden on the roof, he still remembered that there was a larger hydroponic farm next door, which produced crisp and delicious romaine lettuce and sweet and juicy peach fruits exclusively for the officers' mess. Then he joined his brothers to participate in a Strange attack and defense, and even saw an old friend——

He looked at his hand. The hand he had placed on the parchment before entering the memory meditation had written many new fragments of words in his continuous murmuring dream. It is mixed with the highest praise of the great plush and the praise of the benevolent God of gifts, as well as a few records of key figures or terms in the battle just now.

That's enough.

In this place, receiving answers to prayers is the greatest favor, and he has spread this gospel to every brother who still has longing for the Iron Lord.

Soltarn put away his draft of the holy book, opened the door and walked out.

Samokan was waiting for him not far from the door, and as his apprentice squire the boy would follow Soltarn while Felhammer did his work.

Seeing the old mason coming out, the boy glanced at his armor and immediately came forward to meet him.

"How are the preparations for the siege?"

This kid immediately reported a series of data and nouns clearly and clearly. It was obvious that the former ultramarines had trained him well, and he himself also had the potential of a war student.

The name that appeared many times on the parchment roll was unmistakable, but he didn't know the meaning of "newborn" yet. However, he would know it sooner or later. After all, he had already put together Uriel Wen's name so quickly. Tris, Pasanius Lessani, and Samocon?

Then Karan Gaur will inevitably fall into their hands.

Soltarn nodded.

"Tell the others that in three quarters of an hour we will begin our attack on Kalan-Gol Fortress."