Absolute vertigo. A sensation of being put through a giant centrifuge, then torn from himself. A final image burned onto his retinas: his computer screen displaying a Warhammer 40k wiki, a half-cup of cold coffee next to his keyboard.
Then, impact.
Julius Braveheart landed with a grunt of pain on rocky, cold ground. The air burned his lungs, an acrid mix of dust, ozone, and something… metallic. He staggered to his feet, his body one big bruise.
"What the… hell…"
The words died on his lips. This was no longer his room. This was no longer Earth.
The sky was a blanket of leaden clouds, streaked with a sickly green. Two moons, one cracked like a rotten egg, the other glowing with a menacing light, shared the celestial vault. An icy wind whistled between sharp rocky pinnacles, sculpted by centuries of erosion. In the distance, the outlines of a ruined city stood out, broken and ghostly silhouettes.
"No, no, no," he whispered, panic beginning to tighten his throat. "This is a joke. A hyper-lucid dream."
He pinched his arm until tears came to his eyes. Nothing changed. The reality of this rocky hell was relentless.
< Environmental analysis complete.>
The voice was neutral, synthetic, and resonated directly in his skull. Julius started, looking frantically around.
"Who said that?"
< Sci-Fi Summoning System Interface initialized.>
< Host identified: Julius Braveheart.>
< Status: Disoriented. Physical integrity: 92%.>
< Location: Planet designate: LV-492. Classification: Desert World, Threat Level: High. Era: 798.M30.>
The words scrolled through his mind, cold and precise. M30. The Great Crusade. The Emperor was unifying humanity. The golden age, before the Heresy, before the Long March… before the hell of the 41st millennium. A shiver, mixed with primitive terror, ran down his spine. He was in the past, a past where the universe was a giant battlefield.
"A… system?" he whispered, hope budding despite everything. "Like in the novels?"
< Affirmative. The System is designed to assist the Host in survival and development.>
"Okay, alright… good. Very good!" he said, forcing himself to regain some semblance of calm. "Can you get me out of here? A ship, a teleport, something!"
< Negative. Energy resources are at a minimum. Base energy available: 100 units.>
< Environmental analysis function active. Detection of xeno lifeforms… multiple. Hostile biological signatures detected at 500 meters and closing.>
Panic returned in icy waves. Xenos. On a world from the 30th millennium, it could be anything. Orks, Megarachnids, or worse.
"What do I do? I don't even have a knife!"
< Recommendation: Use the basic summoning function.>
< Initial Invitation Drill available. Cost: 50 energy units.>
< Proceed? (Yes/No)>
"Yes! Yes, do it!" cried Julius, his eyes fixed on the horizon from where a skittering, high-pitched shrieking was coming.
< Launching Invitation Drill…>
A bluish holographic screen, visible only to him, appeared before his eyes. It depicted a complex machine that began to spin at high speed. Unknown symbols and data scrolled past. The noise of the creatures was getting closer. He could hear them sniffing, their claws scraping on the rock.
< … Drill successful.>
< Acquisition: [Basic Gauss Pistol - Necron] and energy magazine.>
With a flash of green light and a malevolent energy crackle, a dull, metallic object appeared in the air and fell heavily into his hands.
Julius looked at it, horrified. The weapon was long, angular, made of a livid metal that seemed to absorb light. It was adorned with sinister runes and a faintly pulsating green color. A Necron weapon. A technology of the mechanical undead, the sworn enemies of all life.
"Is this a joke? You're giving me a xeno weapon? And a Necron one at that? They're barely dormant in this era! If an Astartes sees me with this, he'll atomize me!"
< Analysis: Weapon is 100% functional. Its lethality potential is adapted to the immediate threat. Survival overrides doctrinal considerations.>
A piercing shriek rang out, very close. Julius turned and saw them. A pack of bipedal, reptilian creatures with dripping fangs and blade-like claws. Their eyes glowed with a primitive hunger. Kroots? A degenerate strain? It didn't matter.
The first one leaped.
Instinctively, Julius shouldered the Gauss Pistol. The weapon was strangely light and cold. There was no conventional trigger, but a contact plate. He pressed it.
There was no detonation, but a dull hum. A beam of tangible green energy struck the creature square in the chest. There was no blood, no scream. The impact zone, along with a good part of the torso and a leg, simply disintegrated into a fine, shimmering metallic dust. The rest of the body, deprived of its center of gravity, collapsed in a grotesque and silent motion.
Julius stood gaping, his arm trembling. It was both terrifying and fascinating. Absolute firepower.
The other creatures hesitated, emitting worried clicks.
< Remaining energy: 65/100 units. Base energy recharge in progress. Estimate: 1 unit/hour.>
"Only one more shot, then," murmured Julius, gripping the cursed stock tighter.
He backed away, aiming at the pack. The system was right. Survival came first. He was trapped in the most murderous universe there was, at a time of conquest and madness, with his only ally an artificial intelligence that supplied him with heretical weapons.
The cold wind whipped his face, carrying the smell of dust and death. The ruins of the city suddenly seemed like a refuge, an objective.
"Alright, System," he said, his voice firmer. "Guide me. How do I survive? How do I get home?"
< Primary objective updated: Survival.>
< Secondary objective: Accumulate resources and energy.>
< Long-term objective: Analysis… Insufficient data.>
Julius Braveheart, the Warhammer 40k fan, took a deep breath. He was no longer a spectator. He was an actor, thrown into the greatest and bloodiest epic of humanity. And he had a system that, for better or for worse, was his only link to reason.
He raised his Gauss Pistol, the barrel aimed at the hesitant xenos.
"Alright," he breathed. "Let's start by surviving this fucking planet."