Calistarius's Strange Adventure

Calistarius was acutely aware of one thing: his senses were fading.

At this moment, he is like someone suffering from an eye disease, seeing a blurrier world every morning, until one day he becomes completely blind or can no longer see anything at all.

In some savage worlds, this disease is revered as a curse. This view fits very well with Calistarius's situation—he is indeed cursed, a curse from the Warp.

This chaotic and disordered place revealed an unusual longing to his soul; he could barely see anything in front of him anymore, only darkness remained.

But he could vaguely sense the gaze of those things, and their slippery limbs, their mouths brimming with desire, teeth, eager to chew flesh and blood.

This had never happened before. Perhaps it was because the ritual was incomplete, he had no help, and he entered the Warp alone? Or did it mean that the Warp didn't want him to find Sanguinius?

Either way, Calistarius knew this wasn't a good thing, but he didn't stop; instead, he continued to call out. He chanted Sanguinius' name again and again and tried several different spells.

Oaths, reverse summoning circles, searching for people and objects, divination— Calistarius used all his knowledge to try and find Sanguinius in this place, but still to no avail.

He didn't know that the person he was looking for wasn't in the Warp.

But he's here.

He is lost and unable to return. At this moment, none of those in the material world who could help him are able to reach him, so this terrifying state of being lost may continue for a very long time.

The Warp is a greedy place, it has been since long ago. Its original purity and harmony have vanished, replaced by the most terrifying things in the minds and hearts of intelligent beings, which now occupy almost all of the space.

Getting lost here is definitely not a good thing.

But darkness is not the only thing present here.

Warp is a mirror, a reflection of the material world. It has no boundaries, no logic, and theoretically, anyone could do anything here.

While Calistarius's persistent calls failed to bring him to his father, they did attract an unexpected gaze.

The owner of that gaze was a strange being. It appeared to be wearing a long robe with fluttering ends, but its texture was not light at all. Instead, it gave people a heavy feeling, and its color was pale white, similar to the ashes of a burned body.

As soon as it appeared, it tore through the surrounding darkness, and pure and powerful psychic energy flowed everywhere Calistarius could see, making the place as bright as day.

Such power immediately put Calistarius on high alert, but the consciousness established a mental connection with him without his permission, and the whole process was incredibly smooth.

+Nice to meet you, lost angel.+

The consciousness offered a polite and very friendly greeting—its first words, but also its last. After that, its psionic energy erupted instantly, enveloping Calistarius.

The young Librarian immediately recognized part of the principle behind the spell with his knowledge. He recognized it as a protective shield involving some kind of indestructible oath power, which shimmered with golden light.

Calistarius a jolt in his heart—how could he not recognize such power? Just recently, it had transformed into Thunder that burst forth from his fingers, cleansing away the demons.

He wanted to say something, but the consciousness didn't give him more time. Rolling mist swept in and forcibly took him away from the Warp in an instant.

The intense tearing sensation almost made Calistarius; his body was calling to his soul, begging him to return, but his soul was drifting further and further away.

Feeling dizzy, Calistarius slowly opened his eyes and saw a jackal mask with a cold, hard metallic sheen.

The mask was ferocious and terrifying, every detail was lifelike, and the eyes, carved from rubies, were gleaming with psychic light.

A hand slowly lifted up and removed the mask.

"Finding you was really difficult." The person behind the mask sighed. "Even though I've had some revelation and calmed down, okay? Your problem is actually quite easy to solve."

The man approached Calistarius and took his hands in his own.

The young Librarian suddenly felt a warmth that soothed his anxiety and unease, erased the pain caused by the distance from his body, and even replenished some of his power out of thin air.

However, this was not what shocked Calistarius the most—what truly made him almost speechless was the temperature he felt in that person's hand.

It's not the temperature of power, but body temperature, the temperature of the living.

He is now merely a consciousness, a soul separated from his body, in other words, a wandering ghost. In Calistarius's knowledge and experience, Ghost could never feel the "warmth of the living," which is a complete paradox.

"It's not difficult." The person holding the mask seemed to sense his thoughts, suddenly smiled, and made a very confident gesture.

"If I cannot even do this, how can the name of Iskandar Khayon deter those ghosts who try to enter our world?"

Calistarius frowned, his eyes widened—if he still had any—and finally cried out in pain.

"Who?"

"Khayon, Iskandar Khayon. As Librarian, haven't you heard of me?"

"Never heard of you," Calistarius replied quickly. "Why should a Librarian need to know your name?"

"Are you serious? Surely you haven't read The Book of the Jackal on your journey to becoming a qualified Librarian? No? Okay, then what about The Division of Psionic Schools? You haven't read that either? Ah--"

The person carrying the mask sighed in annoyance and casually tossed the jackal mask onto a long table behind him.

It was only then that Calistarius realized that the clothes he was wearing were actually very similar to his appearance in the Warp, the only difference being that this robe was not pale white and was of normal texture.

"--You can't possibly tell me that the Blood Angels' internal Librarian doesn't even have a 'Detailed Study of the Duties of the Psyker,' which is only updated once every eighteen years, can you?" the man who called himself Khayon asked.

Yes, but what does that have to do with you?

"Of course," Khayon said casually, putting his hands behind his back. "I'm the editor-in-chief, young man."

Calistarius did not refute him for the time being, because that thick book, which was updated every eighteen years and which all psionic institutions throughout the Imperium had to obtain, did indeed have an editor-in-chief.

Moreover, since its release, the editor-in-chief's name has never changed; it has always been "The Wolf of Tizca".

Calistarius looked at the jackal mask that had been thrown onto the table.

"What?" Khayon asked, raising an eyebrow. "Have you remembered now?"

"I don't believe you," Calistarius said. "Who are you, anyway?"

The giant laughed, took a step back, and bowed gracefully. The courtly steps, however, seemed out of place as he made an Aquila gesture with his hands in front of his chest. Yet, it looked just right on him, without the slightest sense of incongruity.

"I am Iskandar Khayon, a wizard who has traveled the galaxy. Of course, given the inquisitive nature of Librarian, you obviously won't be satisfied with these evasive statements, so I've decided to be frank."

Calistarius noticed that his expression had suddenly become extremely serious.

"I am one of the last offspring of Magnus Crimson," Iskandar Khayon said coldly. "I was once a member of the Thousand Sons, and now I am the Grand Master of the Dead Eye Society. I arrived here sixty-five years ago by order of the Emperor and my father, awaiting your arrival today."

Calistarius a deep, deep breath, then put everything out of his mind and asked a very simple question.

"How can you prove it?" he asked. "How do you intend to prove it—"

In his presence, Khayon reached into his pocket and pulled out a golden badge. No other gold in the world possessed such a pure color; its surface was engraved with the shape of an Aquila, and it lay quietly in Khayon's hand.

The moment it appeared, Calistarius's gaze was captivated. He couldn't understand why a badge could hold such a strong attraction for him, until he inadvertently met the eyes of the Aquila.

A flash of golden light, and a flood of images rushed into his mind, causing Calistarius's soul to flicker instinctively. He saw a massive, pure golden suit of armor, incomparably magnificent and imposingly awe-inspiring.

Then, there is the scene of it being thrown into the fire, a dark and huge hand holding a forging hammer continuously pounding various parts of the armor until it slowly deforms and is finally poured into many molds to form badges or sharp metal.

Calistarius instinctively gasped for breath, trying to regain his composure, completely forgetting that he was now a soul.

"I think that should be enough," Khayon said solemnly as he put away the badge.

He gestured again, indicating for Calistarius to follow him, and immediately turned and began to walk. Points of light gradually appeared in the surrounding darkness, not from psionic power, but from lighting devices that had been pre-installed within them.

Calistarius tried to walk, but his spirit followed Khayon headlong into the rough cave, flying around everywhere. He couldn't help but feel annoyed—this was certainly not the first time his spirit had left his body, but it was the first time it had traveled this far.

The body's control over the soul has been weakened to a negligible level. Therefore, attempting to manipulate the soul as before, making it move peacefully, has become something that requires time to learn.

But where would he find the time for that now?

However, Khayon seemed unconcerned about his current predicament, offering words of comfort, "Don't worry, it's not a big deal for your soul and body to be separated like this."

"As long as your physical body isn't destroyed, you can go back and recover at any time. At most, you'll just have to stay in bed for a while. Calm down, and then savor the freedom your soul is experiencing right now. This is a very rare experience."

"What exactly do you want to do?" Calistarius asked.

"To help you." Khayon turned slightly, a smile seemingly on his face.

"What else, young man? What do you think I'm going to do? I've spent sixty-five years on this asteroid, separated from my brothers by the stars. Everything I've done is just to help you today."

Before Calistarius answer, he continued speaking to himself. The sound of his boots striking the stone floor and the rhythmic dripping of water echoed from the depths of the cave, creating a tranquil, distant, and mysterious atmosphere.

"Of course, this is not the moment of destiny that those prophets spoke of. Remember my next words, Calistarius, these are words spoken in blood and tears."

"Any prophecy is essentially just a partial depiction of the future. Some people believe it blindly, thinking that whatever happens for the rest of their lives, things will unfold in that direction. They are foolish, but also pathetic, because the future can be completely changed."

"I am now trying to change the future. I will help you find your father, young Calistarius. It will be difficult, but what great thing throughout history has not been like this? It is precisely because of its difficulty that it has meaning in being overcome and defeated."

As he rambled on and on, Calistarius's heart gradually calmed down, and he even found himself in the mood to crack a little joke with him.

"Have you been spending too much time alone, that's why you're so talkative?"

Khayon stopped, looking somewhat surprised. He turned around, shook his head, and a blue light suddenly appeared in his hand.

"No," Calistarius heard him say. "I was just trying to distract you."

The next second, the ground trembled, and an extremely complex magic circle lit up beneath Calistarius's feet.

"Goodbye, cousin," Iskandar Khayon said solemnly. "Good luck."

The light went out, Calistarius vanished without a trace.

Khayon silently walked over, knelt on one knee, erased the magic circle, and then gently tapped the ground. The stone suddenly cracked open, revealing a giant axe. The handle was made of white bone, and the blade was made of flesh and blood; it looked extremely ominous.

Khayon slowly exhaled a breath of stale air, his brows furrowed, and grasped the axe with both hands. He slowly lifted it up, then turned and walked towards the other end of the cave. Several minutes later, he handed the giant axe to a one-armed giant.

"Thank you," Khayon. "Without it, we would have had a very difficult time locating Sanguinius's current position."

"It was nothing," the one-armed giant said.

He seemed to be smiling on his trembling face.