This Is Our Warhammer Journey

“What just happened?”

Arthur rushed up instantly. The arcs of psychic lightning spilling out didn’t affect him at all.

He grabbed Rameses and looked at his face—only to see nothing but blank, blinding void.

Did he get grabbed by some Chaos god?

Facing Arthur’s worried gaze, the Thousand Son’s chaotic eyes focused, then Rameses opened his mouth.

He reached out a hand, and the voice that echoed in the sanctum sounded like something that had been whispering in people’s ears since ancient times.

“v me 50.”

“......”

Arthur silently pulled his hand back. Romulus resisted the urge to blast his damn head off with a melta. Garna, wearing a “I knew it” look, stowed away the power spear he was just about to throw. One by one, they all transferred their points over.

As soon as he absorbed the digitized souls, Rameses let out a long sigh of relief. He spun his staff and lightly tapped the ship’s hull. A nameless pulse spread outward through the metal. The blood and flesh on the floor began to dissolve into fine dust, vanishing into the air.

At the same time, Arthur and the others felt a mysterious pull dragging them out of the Warp toward another realm.

Then came a sudden weightlessness rising from their feet. Everything inside the Navigator’s Sanctum started floating, before falling to the ground again under the ship’s artificial gravity—all at once.

Arthur rolled his ankles a bit. He felt that his connection to that safe zone hadn’t weakened at all.

Bang!

The armor plating over the Navigator’s Sanctum slid open. Through the glass, the view outside was no longer the twisted madness of the Warp—but a deep, silent starfield.

At the same moment, the Thousand Sons psyker in his 30K Ironclad armor smoothly landed on the ground.

“What the hell just happened?”

Arthur clenched his fist as he stepped forward. If this bastard didn’t give a straight answer, he was catching one square on the forehead.

“Hey hey hey, chill, chill.”

Rameses quickly raised both hands in surrender.

“If I hadn’t reacted, we might’ve been stuck in the Warp until the warship disintegrated. Just now, a void whale passed right in front of the ship. If I hadn’t burned some soul juice and raised an extra-thick shield in time, we’d be floating around as dead dungeon bosses on a derelict ship right now.”

“......So what the f*** were you yelling just now?”

Arthur let go, rubbed his forehead, visibly annoyed.

Anyone else would’ve thought Rameses got possessed by something unclean. Nearly scared them to death.

“Got flashed in the eyes.”

Rameses awkwardly wiped his faceplate.

“That void whale was huge. It blocked the Astronomican light. I got it mixed up with Big E’s body and almost burned out my retinas.”

Turns out—it was just a false alarm.

“......Looks like you’re doing fine if you’ve still got jokes.”

Romulus pulled up a chair and sat down.

“What, you take fifty off your bros and don’t even treat us to KFC Thursday?”

His augmetic-wrapped butt crushed the armrest instantly. The tiny chair under his massive frame looked downright ridiculous.

Nobody cared. One after another, they found the most comfortable poses and sat in a circle.

Technically speaking, realspace in 40K wasn’t that much better than the Warp—but at least it was relatively safe. You didn’t have to worry about the ground growing a mouth and taking a bite out of you.

“Oh, right right, KFC Thursday. Eat up, whatever you want.”

A full table of fried chicken and soda appeared on the floor between the four of them, manifesting with his will.

Taking off his psyker mask, Rameses took a big gulp of cola, looked at the three familiar yet unfamiliar faces around him, and burst into a hearty, joy-filled laugh.

“At least in this world, someone still gets the joke.”

“Oh, the poor guy stuck on the Golden Throne probably gets it too. But he’s welded up there—past, present, and future—just watching this shthole rot away.”

Rameses laughed like he was mocking it all… and then mid-laugh, he started crying.

“F**, man, alone in this goddmn cesspool... Did you see those mutants? Those things aren’t even human anymore. And the servitors—just looking at them makes me want to puke.”

“Everyone in the Navigator’s Sanctum had their tongues cut out. Did you see that pile of meat on the floor? I didn’t even have time to react—they were all slaughtered for some ritual, all in the name of the Emperor. What kind of cult bullsht is that? You think I need that crap to burn daemons?”

“It’s the 41st fing millennium. How the hll did humanity sink this low?”

Everyone knew—games are games. Whatever you do in a game isn’t real. Every action is just emotional value for the player. You don’t have to worry about morality. You don’t have to think about the real-world consequences.

But reality… reality’s different.

In real life, people drive carefully and give way to pedestrians. Before getting married or having kids, they think about whether they can provide a good life. People long for order and beauty.

Who could really handle living in the Warhammer world?

From the moment they woke up here, everything around them had been violently assaulting their worldview.

Back when they were with the Astra Militarum, Arthur and Romulus had deliberately avoided looking at the servitors chanting prayers beside the Sisters of Battle and helping with logistics.

They respected the Sisters' faith and admired the Astra Militarum’s bravery, but they just couldn’t stomach those half-human, half-machine things with barely a face.

“Thank f* you guys are here. I’m not alone.”

Rameses clutched Arthur and Garna on either side, bawling his eyes out.

Unlike the others who’d lived relatively peaceful lives, Rameses—a guy who could afford tabletop minis—was a straight-up rich kid. They hadn’t met much in person, but they all knew from chatting how comfortable and exciting his life used to be.

Even Arthur deeply missed his warm little home, and had gone full berserk mode after dropping in. So imagine how much worse it was for Rameses.

A guy like that, getting thrown into the Warhammer world overnight? The mental crash was off the charts.

Arthur patted Rameses’ shoulder hard, sighed, and casually grabbed a box of nuggets.

He stared at the packaging, opened his helmet’s air filter system, and gave it a sniff.

His brain analyzed the complex mix of aromas—this entirely new sensory experience brought on a strange feeling of familiarity.

Besides the friends around him, this table full of fast food was the only familiar thing Arthur had encountered since he transmigrated.

But...

“Sigh—”

Arthur put down the nuggets.

Even this familiar comfort was something they’d just conjured up using powers from who-knows-where.

He looked up.

The deep starfield outside the portholes, the luxurious and alien decor, and the four of them—now clad in iron armor, nothing like the people they used to be...

Everything around them constantly reminded them of one simple truth.

This was no longer the world they once loved.