Chapter 12: Tell Mom We Might Not Be Home for Dinner Tonight

"What happened?"

Arthur rushed forward instantly, the leaking psychic lightning having no effect on him. He grabbed Ramses, peering into his face, but could see only a vast, white void.

*Could he have been snagged by some Chaos god?*

Facing Arthur’s worried gaze, the Thousand Son’s chaotic eyes finally focused. Ramses opened his mouth. He reached out a hand, and a sound echoed through the sanctum—a tone that had resonated in the ears of many since ancient times.

"Transfer me fifty."

"..."

Arthur expressionlessly pulled his hand back. Romulus suppressed the urge to blow his head off with a melta, and Karna, with an "I knew it" expression, put away the power spear he had been ready to throw. Then, they all transferred their credits.

"Ah—I’m alive again."

Having just received these quantified souls, Ramses let out a long sigh of relief. He rotated his staff and tapped it against the hull; a nameless pulse rippled out through the metal, and the flesh on the deck began to turn into fine dust, vanishing into the air.

At the same time, Arthur and the others felt a mysterious connection dragging them from the Warp into another realm. A sense of weightlessness rose from the soles of their feet; objects inside the Navigator Sanctum began to float, before finally dropping to the deck all at once as the ship’s internal gravity took hold.

Arthur flexed his ankles. He felt that his perception of that "safe house" had not diminished in the slightest.

*Clang!*

The armor covering the Navigator Sanctum slid open at that moment. Through the glass, the view outside was no longer the bizarre, kaleidoscopic horror of the Warp, but a silent, deep starry sky.

The Thousand Sons librarian, clad in 30k-era Iron-pattern armor, landed steadily on the deck.

"What is the situation?"

Arthur balled his fist and stepped forward. If this idiot couldn't give him a proper explanation, he was going to punch him in the forehead.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't rush, don't rush." Ramses raised his hands in surrender. "Without your buddy’s reaction, we’d probably still be stuck in the Warp until the ship fell apart. A Void Whale just passed in front of us. If I hadn't burned my soul to conjure a thicker shield, we’d be the boss of a space hulk dungeon right now."

"…So what were you screaming about?"

Arthur let go and rubbed his forehead, annoyed. One would have thought Ramses had been possessed by something foul; he’d scared them half to death.

"Got flashed in the eyes," Ramses wiped his faceplate awkwardly. "That Void Whale was huge; it blocked the light of the Astronomican. Then I accidentally mistook the Emperor’s essence for the Astronomican’s light, and it nearly fried my optical sensors."

It turned out to be nothing more than a false alarm.

"…Seems you’re in good shape, still able to crack jokes," Romulus said, pulling up a chair and sitting down. "So, you take fifty from us and you’re not going to treat us to a Crazy Thursday feast?"

His glutes, encased in electronic muscle bundles, snapped the armrest; the contrast between the tiny chair and his massive frame was comical. The others didn't pay it any mind, finding the most comfortable positions they could and forming a circle.

Though, in theory, the reality of the 40k universe wasn't much better than the Warp, it was relatively safer—at least one didn't have to worry about the floor beneath their feet growing a mouth to take a bite out of them.

"Oh, right, right, Crazy Thursday. Eat, eat whatever you want."

A sumptuous spread of cola and fried chicken appeared in the clearing between the four of them, conjured by his will. Ramses removed his sorcerer mask, took a gulp of cola, and looked at the three familiar yet strange companions beside him, letting out a hearty, enthusiastic laugh.

"At least there’s someone in this world who understands the meme."

"Oh, the poor bastard on the Golden Throne probably understands it too. Too bad he can’t come down. Past, present, future—he’s welded to that thing, watching this shithole rot more every day."

Ramses’ laugh sounded mocking, but as he laughed, he began to cry.

"Damn it, a person, living in a shithole like this... Did you see those mutants? They aren't even human anymore. And the servitors—I feel like vomiting just looking at those things."

"The people in this Navigator Sanctum were all expendable wretches with their tongues cut out. Did you see that pile of gore? I hadn't even reacted before they were all slaughtered for sacrifice, all in the name of the Emperor. What kind of death cult is this? These gutter-trash things—if I can burn demons, why do I need these?"

"It’s the forty-first millennium. How could humanity sink to such a bottomless depth?"

As everyone knew, a game was a game. No matter what you did in a game, it was false; every action was just for personal emotional value, so your operations didn't need to consider morality or worry about reality.

But reality was reality—that was a different story.

Back home, people were careful even when driving in the city, yielding to pedestrians. Before getting married or having children, they would ponder if they could provide their kids with a decent life. Everyone yearned for order and beauty; how could they truly endure living in a place like the Warhammer universe?

But since they woke up here, everything they saw had been raping their worldview every single second.

Previously, in the Imperial Guard ranks, Arthur and Romulus had deliberately ignored the servitors chanting beside the Sisters of Battle or assisting the Guard with logistics. They respected the faith of the Sisters and admired the courage of the Guardsmen, but they truly couldn't stomach things that still had half a human face and were no longer sure if they were human at all.

"Fortunately, fortunately you guys are here. I’m not alone."

Ramses grabbed Arthur and Karna, one on each side, sobbing uncontrollably. Unlike the others, whose past lives were relatively peaceful and mundane, Ramses, who could afford to play tabletop games offline, had been a super-rich kid. Although they didn't meet in person often, they knew from daily chats how free and exciting his life had been.

Even Arthur missed his warm little home so much that he had entered a state of catatonic denial upon arrival, let alone Ramses. Being thrown into the shithole of the Warhammer universe overnight, the psychological gap was unimaginable.

Arthur patted Ramses’ shoulder firmly, sighed, and grabbed a box of chicken nuggets. Staring at the packaging, he activated his armor's air circulation system and took a light sniff.

His mind analyzed the complex flavors contained within; beneath the novel experience lay a sense of inexplicable familiarity. Aside from his companions, this table of fast food was the only thing Arthur had felt familiar with since he crossed over.

But...

"Sigh—"

Arthur put down the nugget.

Even this familiar creation was something they had just conjured using power from who-knows-where. He looked around.

The deep starry sky outside the porthole, the luxurious yet alien decor, and the four of them, currently encased in iron armor, looking nothing like they did in his memories...

Everything around them was constantly reminding them of one fact:

This was no longer the world they loved.