Chapter 315: Euphrine: Praise the Eldar Death God Doraemon

The hymns echoed throughout Magna Macragge, where marble buildings hummed with simple, melodious tunes and the scent of copper gongs and baked pastries.

Grelinna walked the city's streets, watching everything unfold slowly around her, seeing every corner filled with devotees holding copper gongs and juices made from crushed leaves.

Every few steps, she saw choirs of twenty-two children singing hymns in praise of Holy Doraemon, and devout believers kneeling on the ground to honor that great being.

The same scene unfolded simultaneously across all twenty-two cities of Macragge.

This was the first ceremony in the galaxy to praise Holy Doraemon; as the overseer of Magna Macragge, Grelinna could not help but feel a flicker of pride.

But she quickly felt guilt, clenching her hand into a circle over her chest, whispering an apology to Holy Doraemon.

All glory belongs to Holy Doraemon.

The success of this ceremony came entirely from Holy Doraemon's divine power.

It was these miracles—the tablecloth that conjured food, the bacteria that turned leaves into juice—that made this ceremony possible.

She had contributed only the tiniest, most insignificant effort; how could she possibly feel pride?

Besides, it was not yet time to celebrate the ceremony's success. She still had duties unfulfilled.

All twenty-two overseers of the Doraemon Temples had arrived in this city, awaiting the first gathering of Holy Doraemon's faithful.

Grelinna felt a slight unease about it.

Twenty-two temple overseers—would they hold differing interpretations of the doctrine? Would conflicts arise between them?

As a former noble, Grelinna knew humans could never fully understand one another; where there are people, there must be conflict.

She had originally intended to invite Prophet Leina, Prophet Belisarius Cawl, or Prophet Greyfax to guide them with their wisdom.

But sadly, all three seemed occupied: Prophet Leina and Prophet Belisarius Cawl were nowhere to be found, and Lady Greyfax apologized, saying she was executing a task assigned by Primarch Roboute Guilliman concerning historical archives.

Suddenly, Grelinna faintly heard the sound of an explosion.

She spun around in alarm and saw brilliant sparks rising from the distant mountains.

Scorching light shot into the sky and burst open in the night, dazzling as summer fireworks.

The surrounding devotees also stopped and pointed toward the glowing heavens.

Grelinna was slightly startled— that direction was the Hera Fortress.

Were the Space Marines of Hera Fortress setting off fireworks to celebrate the first ceremony of Holy Doraemon?

A spear of psychic flame pierced through the thick marble walls of the Eldar Embassy in an instant, slicing through them like melting butter.

Euphrine gasped; the Death's Blessing released from her sword, Kevir, surged forth as a storm of whispers.

The bone blade clashed with the psychic spear of blazing sunfire; Euphrine let out a low roar.

"You go first!!!" she shouted at Thousand Faces, who tried to rush forward to aid her.

At least one person must reach Inard's side.

Thousand Faces hesitated for an instant—and in that instant, everything changed.

The material structure of the air around the two Eldar was reshaped and twisted, crystallizing into countless blades that lashed toward them.

Thousand Faces frantically swung his own silent shriek blade, Asuval, to block the crystalline blades.

But each blade carried immense psychic power; the resulting explosions engulfed both Thousand Faces and Euphrine.

Thousand Faces' heavy bone armor activated, combining with the storm of Death's power to shield them both.

"Damn monkeys!" Thousand Faces cursed as he resisted the psychic blasts.

Euphrine opened her mouth to speak, but felt the entire Eldar Embassy shaking violently.

No—not just the embassy. The surrounding reality itself was trembling.

As if someone were trying to rip the entire Eldar Embassy from the earth, from reality itself.

Euphrine was stunned by this crude, savage use of psychic power.

Scorching psychic flames erupted from Leina's five orifices.

She hovered midair, arms outstretched, emitting a silent scream.

Every cell, every nerve, every molecule drowned in the Warp, pouring power into reality.

Leina slammed her hand downward; with a sound like mountains collapsing and the earth splitting, the entire Eldar Embassy was ripped from Hera Fortress and yanked into the sky.

"This is torture!" Leina roared. "Why the hell do they all have to blow up?!"

Nearby, Mephiston wanted to say that Zhou Yun's phrase was metaphorical—but seeing Leina's wild outburst of psychic energy, he twitched his lips and stayed silent.

Leina twisted her arms; the Embassy, now suspended in midair, twisted and cracked like a baker kneading a braid, its solid marble crumbling like sponge.

Mephiston did not stand idle. He swung his silver-steel blade, slicing lightly through the veil of reality.

Millions of blade marks instantly appeared across the floating Embassy; everything within was sliced into two-centimeter chunks, hovering in the air.

The hum of a bone blade suddenly rang out; a crimson figure leapt from the Embassy like a meteor.

A silent soul-scream echoed through Hera Fortress; Thousand Faces, wielding the Hag's Blade, charged straight at the three psykers.

His crimson armor was riddled with blade cuts; blood poured ceaselessly from beneath his power armor.

"No one shall stand in the way of Inard's death————"

He let out a furious growl, landing before the three psykers, a storm of whispers swirling around him.

Then he saw the faces of the three standing before him.

"Huh???"

"Diggory?"

"Mephiston?"

Recognizing his attackers, Thousand Faces' voice turned terrified—he turned and fled.

As an Eldar, Thousand Faces knew full well what these two Adeptus Astartes Librarians were—monsters whose projections had formed within the Warp itself.

Diggory remained silent, raising the staff of Malcador.

Thousand Faces felt the space around him suddenly grow crushing, as if an entire planet had settled atop him.

The ground cracked; a hemispherical crater over a meter wide formed beneath him, pinning him to the bottom with invisible pressure.

"Catch one," Diggory said wearily.

"The other one—Euphrine got away," Leina said, her portable pyramid ceasing its green glow as she descended from the air.

"She won't get away."

Diggory slowly shook his head.

"Wait a moment. Just a little longer. Let me rest a bit more."

Diggory's face was lined with exhaustion and the deep creases of overwork.

He breathed in Macragge's cool night air, his eyes faintly glistening with tears, like a man just released from prison.

He opened his mouth as if to complain about the burden of work—but then remembered the nature of his task, and fell silent.

His current duty: compiling false historical archives to fill the gaps of the Second Empire's history.

The hardest part? The Adeptus Astartes' Five Hundred Worlds had always revered history—especially during the Primarchs' reign.

Every year, every month, every day of administrative records from the Second Empire piled up in the Ptolemaic Library.

Diggory's task: destroy them all, then fabricate fake records one by one. The workload was overwhelming.

He even considered secretly using his psychic power to burn down the Ptolemaic Library—once and for all.

Diggory's expression was nearly pained.

Mephiston stepped forward and lightly patted his colleague's shoulder.

"You're still too normal. Too trusted by your Chapter."

Mephiston spoke in a tone of advice.

"You should act colder, stranger. Be reclusive. Use your psychic power to terrify others when you meet them—make them think you're deeply warped by the Warp. Then your Chapter won't burden you with so much work."

Diggory stared at Mephiston with an utterly horrifying gaze.

He had always wondered why his Blood Angels colleague was so idle—both were Chief Librarians, yet why did Mephiston seem completely free of paperwork?

In the Ultramarines, Diggory's paperwork load exceeded even that of Chapter Master Calgar.

"You've been faking it all along?" Diggory realized.

Every time he saw Mephiston, Diggory sensed shadows writhing beneath his skin—he knew it was a psychic phenomenon, but why couldn't Mephiston, a psyker equal to himself, suppress or conceal it?

And his pale skin, his chilling aura—these were all effects of psychic power. But as a psyker who controlled every cell, he could easily mask them.

Now Diggory understood: it was all deliberate.

Saint Blood Angels Chapter Master Dante is truly blessed to have you as Chief Librarian!

Diggory sighed inwardly, then stared wide-eyed at Leina.

"Leina as well," Diggory recalled her usual demeanor.

". 'm real," Leina said, her face twitching.

Euphrine gasped for breath, hidden in the darkness of Hera Fortress.

The three psykers who attacked them were Diggory and Mephiston.

Fortunately, she had been cautious enough to let Thousand Faces create her escape.

She must reach Inard as soon as possible.

Euphrine gritted her teeth and summoned the Death's Blessing.

She would go to the Eldar Death God—

The scenery blurred, reality twisted and inverted; Euphrine slipped beneath the veil of reality, traveling through the Warp.

She slowly opened her eyes—and saw a human girl, and two Adeptus Astartes Librarians standing before her.

A crushing weight descended from above, slamming her to the ground; beside her lay Thousand Faces, foaming at the mouth.

"I told you she wouldn't get away," Diggory said wearily.

Eveleene bore the crushing pressure, her fists clenched tight; now backed into a corner, all she could do seemed to be prayer.

Pray to the Death God of the Xiang Spirit Clan, pray to the Death God Doraemon.

O Death God Doraemon, may your death bless us all.

(End of Chapter)