In a distant universe, a powerful being sat through yet another uneventful day.
After surviving for tens of billions of years, life had become unbearably dull. And so, a sudden thought crossed its mind:
"I've had enough of this existence."
Such sentiments were hardly rare among immortals.
Yet, despite the urge, simply dropping dead on the spot did not suit its character. No—before the end, something had to be left behind. A mark to prove it had once existed.
Thus, before perishing, it gathered all of its remaining power and painstakingly forged a high-dimensional artifact capable of traversing time and space. Its purpose: to pass down its legacy.
By twists of fate, this artifact eventually bound itself to a certain shut-in.
It adapted to its new host, reshaping itself into what became known as the Strongest Two-Dimensional System.
From then on, it carried the shut-in across countless worlds and trials, slowly testing whether he was worthy of inheriting the creator's strength.
And then… nothing.
During one of these journeys, a colossal explosion erupted, unleashing a temporal storm too violent to resist. Both the system and Li Ming were swept into a perilous world never meant to be on the itinerary.
—
Chewing on the fragmented remains of the system, Orsaga leisurely sifted through the information encoded within.
By the time he had devoured most of it, disappointment colored his expression.
"What a bizarre déjà vu… why does this feel like some dime-store web novel?"
From his perspective, Li Ming's encounters and fortuitous gains were a textbook case of "cliché protagonist beginnings." If not for Orsaga's sudden interference—the Chaos God crashing the story like an uninvited extra—the boy might have gone on to carve out a glorious destiny.
Shaking his head, Orsaga glanced at the remnant chunk of the system in his hand, now only a third of its former whole. A sigh escaped him.
"So this thing was basically the protagonist's cheat, huh? No wonder it tastes so rich, full of energy. I should really find more of these snacks to keep around…"
As for the nine-tenths-cooked dragon god that had come as a side dish? That had already been devoured as an appetizer.
—
Meanwhile, in the vast expanse of the material universe—
At a certain corner, several Greater Daemons of Khorne were locked in battle against a single towering figure.
That figure stood fifty meters tall, humanoid in form, his body gleaming with a metallic sheen. His features resembled those of a human male. Most of his frame was crimson, save for a few silver-white sections, including his horned head.
Embedded in his chest was a massive blue gem, meters in diameter. On his forehead, a smaller green gem gleamed. These were his most striking traits.
But now, that blue gem flickered erratically with searing red light—clear proof of his faltering state, teetering on collapse.
Sensing weakness, the daemons of Khorne pressed their assault. Normally, a single one of them would suffice to crush such prey. But as beings of the Warp, their power was limited within the material universe. Thus, they were forced into rare cooperation.
They dared not fail. This was a direct order from Khorne himself.
Were Orsaga watching, he would no doubt remark that this looked like an early scene of "Warp Daemons hunting a wild Ultraman."
And indeed, the embattled figure was none other than a stray Ultraman from the Land of Light—somehow cast into the Warhammer universe.
Nor was he the only one. Across the immensity of this world—not only within the physical cosmos but in other layers as well—strange outsiders continued to arrive. And each time, the Chaos Gods—the "cosmic wardens" of this place—sent their servants to hunt them down.
Of course, these wardens were anything but righteous. Their style of governance was brutal and corrupt. And so, for these "illegal immigrants," falling into their grasp invariably led to a most tragic fate.
—
Centuries later, in a distant sector of the Milky Way—
Rā, at the helm of a specialized starship, guided it smoothly through the sea of stars. Behind them, one radiant celestial body after another slipped into the distance.
The ship carried not only Rā himself but also several humans—among them, immortals: men and women gifted with eternal life.
Staring at the controls, Rā suddenly felt a stirring deep within his psychic senses. His expression grew grave.
Softly, he whispered:
"Our voyage among the stars is nearly at its end…"
At his words, a female immortal at his side paled. Her tone was heavy as she asked:
"So soon? Are you truly ready?"
They had not embarked on this dangerous journey for idle wandering. Their mission was to observe the lost human colonies scattered across the galaxy—to gather vital intelligence for the future Restoration of Human Civilization.
They had agreed from the start: the end of this expedition would mark the formal beginning of that plan.
And so, the woman's voice carried her doubts, for she felt none of them were ready.
But Rā remained composed.
"It is enough. I can feel it. Soon, we will reach the terminus of our journey."
She hesitated, words trembling on her lips. But faced with his calm certainty—and her own faith in him—she swallowed her protests.
Ever since the Warp storms had severed interstellar travel, the Human Federation had collapsed. Countless thriving colonies were cut off overnight, left to fend for themselves.
This voyage had only been possible thanks to Rā, humanity's greatest psyker, whose power carved a path through the unstable void. Without him, the rest of the crew would have perished a thousand times over.
On their long and perilous odyssey, they had witnessed many horrors. Worlds once peaceful and fertile had been warped into abominations by chaotic energies. Savage mutants prowled ruined lands; even the humans left behind had not been spared.
Warp-taint had eroded their very genes, triggering regression and corruption. Lifespans shrank, bodies weakened, minds dulled, flesh twisted. The glorious genetic legacy of the Federation's Golden Age had been shattered.
In barren colonies, civilization had regressed to primitive levels. Naked, starving, desperate, some tribes turned to cannibalism, sacrificing kin to grotesque idols and Warp-born fiends.
Humanity's brilliance, once radiant, now lay sullied—dragged through filth and degradation until it stank of despair.
The glory of the Golden Age was gone.
...
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