"What happened?"
Arthur rushed forward immediately, the psychic lightning sparking around Ramses having no effect on him.
He grabbed Ramses by the shoulder and looked at his face, but all he could see was a blinding white void.
Don't tell me some Chaos god snatched him.
Facing Arthur's worried gaze, the Thousand Son's chaotic eyes finally focused. Then Ramses opened his mouth.
He stretched out his hand, and his voice echoed through the sanctum, sounding like something that had rung in humanity's ears since ancient times.
"v me 50."
"..."
Arthur pulled his hand back expressionlessly. Romulus resisted the urge to blow Ramses' head off with his melta, while Karna just sighed, put away his power spear, and all three transferred their points to him.
"Ah—back to life."
As soon as he absorbed those quantified souls, Ramses let out a long breath. He tapped his staff against the ship's hull, sending out a nameless pulse. The flesh covering the ground turned to powdery dust and dispersed into the air.
At the same time, Arthur and the others sensed a mysterious link dragging them out of the Warp into another realm.
A wave of weightlessness rose from under their feet. Everything in the Navigator's Sanctum floated, then dropped heavily to the floor as the ship's gravity reasserted itself.
Arthur flexed his ankles. He still felt his connection to the safehouse intact.
Clang!
The armored plating around the Sanctum split open. Through the glass, the view was no longer the Warp's twisted madness but the silent, endless void of space.
The Thousand Son in his 30k Iron Cavalry-style armor landed smoothly.
"What's going on here?"
Arthur cracked his knuckles, ready to punch this guy in the face if he didn't start making sense.
"Hey hey hey, don't rush, don't rush."
Ramses quickly raised his hands in surrender.
"If I hadn't reacted, we'd still be stuck in the Warp until the ship ripped apart. A void whale passed right in front of us. If I hadn't burned some souls to thicken the shield, we'd already be the derelict hulk's mini-boss."
"...So what was with your screaming just now?"
Arthur let go, rubbing his forehead in frustration. Anyone watching would've thought Ramses got possessed by a daemon.
"I got flashed in the eyes."
Ramses awkwardly wiped his mask.
"That void whale was huge. It blocked the Astronomican's light. I mistook the Emperor's presence for the beacon and almost got blinded."
Turned out it was just a false alarm.
"...Looks like you're doing fine if you can still crack jokes."
Romulus dragged over a chair and sat down.
"So, you take fifty points off us and don't even treat us to a Thursday feast?"
His massive frame snapped the chair's armrest instantly, the tiny seat looking ridiculous under his bulk.
Nobody cared though. They all found a spot and sat in a circle.
The Materium wasn't exactly safe compared to the Warp, but at least the ground wasn't going to open up and swallow you whole.
"Oh, right, Thursday feast. Eat, eat all you want."
With a wave, a full spread of fried chicken and cola appeared before them.
Ramses removed his sorcerer's mask, downed some cola, and laughed heartily as he looked at his three familiar yet unfamiliar companions.
"At least in this world, someone gets the joke."
"Oh, the poor sod on the Golden Throne would get it too. But past, present, future—he's welded there forever, watching this cesspool rot."
Ramses laughed mockingly, then suddenly broke down crying.
"Damn it, man, living alone in this cesspool. You seen those mutants? They're not even human anymore. And the servitors—I look at them and want to puke."
"All those people in the Navigator Sanctum, tongues cut out, just disposable tools. One moment they're there, the next they're slaughtered for sacrifice. And all in the Emperor's name? What kind of cult is this? I can burn daemons just fine without that garbage!"
"It's the 41st millennium. How did humanity sink this low?"
Everyone knows games are games. Whatever you do inside is fake, purely for emotional payoff. No morals, no real consequences.
But reality is different.
In real life, everyone drives carefully and yields to pedestrians. Before marrying or having kids, they wonder if they can provide for them. People dream of order and beauty, not living in the nightmare that is Warhammer.
But ever since waking here, every single sight had been a constant assault on their worldview.
Before, in the Astra Militarum, Arthur and Romulus forced themselves to ignore the servitors assisting the Sisters of Battle with supplies.
They respected the Sisters' faith, admired the Guardsmen's courage, but those half-human husks were unbearable.
"Good thing you guys are here. I'm not alone."
Ramses clutched Arthur and Karna, sobbing uncontrollably.
Unlike the others who had lived fairly normal, peaceful lives, Ramses had been the spoiled rich kid who could afford to run tabletop campaigns with real minis. Even though they hadn't met often in person, everyone knew how carefree and exciting his life had been.
Arthur missed his warm little home desperately, enough to throw himself into reckless violence to avoid thinking. For Ramses, the fall was even worse.
To be tossed overnight into this cesspool called Warhammer—it was crushing.
Arthur patted his shoulder, sighed, and grabbed a box of nuggets.
He studied the packaging, opened his armor's air system, and took a sniff.
The flavor analysis unfolded in his mind. The experience was new yet oddly familiar.
Besides his companions, this fast food was the only thing that felt familiar in this alien reality.
But...
"Eh—"
Arthur put the nugget down.
Even that familiar creation was born of some strange, unknown power they had just used.
He looked around.
The starry void outside the porthole. The luxurious but alien décor. The four of them clad in iron armor, no longer resembling the people they once were...
Everything around them served as a brutal reminder.
This was no longer the world they once loved.
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