Luka pulled a letter opener adorned with the Imperial double-headed eagle from his army case and set it on the table, saying nothing, just gesturing for the trio to inspect it.
The shop owner picked it up first. The knife was exquisite, its grip sized for an adult hand, sheathed in a scabbard bearing the Mechanicus cog. Unsheathed, the blade was barely longer than a palm, a finger wide, with a small dot-like field generator. The crossguard sported the Imperial aquila, screaming Warhammer authenticity.
"This… it's not real, is it?" The owner tested the edge—dull—and shot Luka a wary glance.
"There's a button on the hilt. Try it," Luka said, his tone suggestive.
The owner hesitated, set the knife down, and downed his wine, hands trembling. Luka's cryptic exchange with him piqued Mai Mai and Twilight's curiosity. Twilight grabbed the knife, pressed the button as instructed, and a blue shimmer coated the blade—a hallmark of a power weapon.
Disbelief flashed across Twilight's face. He swung at a wine glass, slicing it clean in half without resistance. "This is the real deal?" he gasped, then glared at Luka. "Dammit, I knew you got drafted by the Emperor! Why didn't you bring us along?"
"You sure you wanna go? It's the Warhammer world—makes grown men cry like stepped-on Orks," Luka teased, unfazed by the outburst.
He said nothing more, but his silence spoke volumes. The trio didn't judge him—sharing a secret like crossing into Warhammer's grim hellscape wasn't something you just blurted out, even to friends. Yet, faced with Luka's near-explicit invitation, they hesitated. Crossing into Warhammer was no small decision. They weren't lucky orphans from a novel's start, nor suicidal thrill-seekers chasing life's meaning. Uprooting their lives wasn't appealing.
Mai Mai caught on to something. "If we cross, is there a return ticket? Or is it one-way?"
"One-way, and I wouldn't be here, would I?" Luka grinned.
"You're not worried we'll spill?" Twilight pressed.
Luka shrugged. "Think you can outrun a Vindicare assassin or survive an Astartes beheading?"
He couldn't deploy such units in the 3K era, but the Emperor's redemption catalog offered enhancements to turn him into an assassin or Space Marine. So, technically, he wasn't lying—just vague about who'd do the chasing.
The trio got the hint and dropped it. They passed the knife around, marveling, then set it down, eyes burning with curiosity.
"Alright, spill it. What's the deal? Emperor's recruiting?" the owner asked, cutting through the tension.
"Something like that. I've got slots to cross into Warhammer," Luka said, keeping it vague. He was willing to share the chance but wanted control over who joined.
"What kind of slots?" Mai Mai asked, barely containing his excitement.
"Think Horus Heresy, but you pick your piece—your role," Luka explained. "Or go High Lord mode, deploying units like a tabletop game. Only your consciousness crosses—your body stays in 3K. No worries about Slaanesh's clutches or Nurgle's soup."
"What about Tzeentch's schemes?" Twilight interjected.
"Chaos meddling's inevitable—it's Warhammer. But the Emperor shields our minds from corruption. Stay true, and nothing follows you back," Luka assured them. This was the crux—knowing their souls were safe eased their fears.
"How do we cross?" the owner asked.
"The Emperor gave me a chest. It's the gateway and handles redemptions," Luka said, emphasizing his control over the process to keep the upper hand.
"What're we waiting for? Where's the chest? I'm ready!" Mai Mai said, practically buzzing.
"Hold up. Let me brief you on the situation over there," Luka said. He needed them to pick roles that fit Rostov II's needs and his long-term plans.
(To be continued)