Am I dead? Is this the Golden Throne?
Time had lost all meaning in the endless war. Evan only remembered transmigrating into the Warhammer universe and becoming part of the Astra Militarum. In the last battle he participated in, both earth and sky were torn apart by the Great Enemy.
Blasphemous warp sorcery shattered reality itself. Space Marines, the Imperial Navy, even the Adeptus Custodes and Imperator-class Titans dropped onto the battlefield. Under those circumstances, dying wouldn't be surprising at all.
But the problem was, he still had consciousness right now, which meant the God-Emperor's mission for him wasn't finished yet. As long as there were humans under the stars who needed protection, he had to open his eyes.
The civilians he needed to protect stood behind him. The great enemy was still slaughtering his fellow humans among the stars. In this dark future, he could still use his blood and sacrifice to defend humanity's right to survive, even if battered and broken, even if trapped in hell itself!
He had to wake up!
"For the Golden Throne!"
Pure will tore through some kind of restraint. Accompanied by an approving wail from the void, consciousness flooded like a tide into that unyielding, beating heart.
"Awake?"
A clear female voice pierced his eardrums, making Evan's eyes snap open as he struggled to breathe. The lenses of his gas mask reflected the swaying sky.
For some reason, this wasn't the apocalyptic battlefield from before. He was tied up on a bumpy wagon, with several more empty wagons ahead. They'd stopped by the roadside now.
Behind this wagon was a wooden barred cage crammed full of men and women of all kinds, left with barely enough ragged clothes to cover their scarred bodies.
Most of them were covered in dust and blood, their clothes in tatters. They looked like young people, their expressions filled with fear. The air was thick with a mix of stench and burning smells.
These people were clearly all from the same village, knowing each other. You could even see a young couple huddled together.
After struggling a bit, unsurprisingly finding his hands cuffed behind his back, Evan looked down at his clothes. His pupils contracted. This was actually a Krieg uniform.
A thick military greatcoat, gas mask, iconic steel helmet, but no weapons.
"Don't bother struggling, you can't escape."
The voice came from his right. It was a girl who looked about eighteen or nineteen, with messy chestnut short hair. Even though she barely had any decent clothes on, she wore a cynical smile at the corner of her mouth.
"Judging by your uniform, you're some noble's private soldier? That helmet's pretty weird though. What, you screw up? Looks like you caused quite a mess to end up here."
Evan didn't answer the girl's questions. His brain was still processing the situation. This wasn't any battlefield he'd ever seen.
The sky was blue, truly blue, not the lead-gray color stained by gunpowder smoke. The distant mountain ranges were covered with lush green vegetation, a luxury that had long gone extinct on most Imperial worlds.
And besides, he wasn't even from Krieg. He was a Cadian soldier. He'd worked with Krieg a few times though. Those silent war maniacs left quite an impression.
But then he saw what was ahead.
About half a mile away, a village was burning. Thick smoke rose into the sky, and through the flames you could vaguely see writhing green figures.
Were those Ork beasts?
No, they looked much smaller and weaker than greenskins. They were humanoid, short creatures with pointed ears. Evan remembered these creatures.
Holy hell.
These were goblins, weren't they?
They looked exactly like the stereotype: short, wretched, cunning, wearing obviously human castoff rags for clothes, holding wooden clubs or rusted iron swords.
God-Emperor, where had he ended up? This was Western fantasy, another world?
Evan didn't know whether to laugh or cry. When he first transmigrated into Warhammer and became an Astra Militarum soldier, following tradition he'd cried like a baby. But after more than thirty years of service and war, he'd long grown used to death and killing. And just when he was about to retire, he'd transmigrated again?
Emperor, are you using me like Bitcoin? Did you just throw me into another world?
Closer by, a squad of armored soldiers was roughly pushing a group of ragged civilians toward the flames. No matter how much those civilians cried and screamed, they just kept jabbing their scarred backs with spears, forcing them to walk into the fire.
"I'm pregnant! I'm pregnant! Imperial law says you can't sacrifice pregnant women! Let me go!"
"You said you'd protect me! You lied to me! Lied! I gave you everything, I..."
A woman suddenly broke from the group in desperation. She clung tightly to a scarred soldier's leg. Intense fear made her vomit all over the ground, but she still struggled, trying to grasp at this last straw.
"Get off! Disgusting whore!"
The scarred soldier just sneered and kicked her away, stepping back. Those watching goblins, as if receiving some kind of permission, surrounded the woman with their rusty little knives.
With piercing screams, her skin was cut off, her limbs severed. She wailed through torture that was practically death by a thousand cuts.
The others got the same treatment. Men, women, young and old were all pinned down and bled like pigs by these vile monsters, their flesh devoured. Only a few women were kept barely alive, carried off somewhere unknown.
Humans were being slaughtered by aliens? Being eaten as food?
In that instant, almost on pure instinct, intense fury rose from the depths of his heart. He'd felt the same rage watching his fellow humans tortured by Dark Eldar. Evan's fingers instinctively reached for his waist, but found nothing.
He was a warrior of the great God-Emperor. Though the God-Emperor hadn't given him Ceramite and bolter rounds, He'd given him courage and an unyielding heart. The situation before him had clearly crossed his bottom line. Even barehanded, he had to tear these heretics and aliens to shreds!
"Stop looking. Those people will strip you of even scraps of cloth. I can tell this is your first time being caught. But you're lucky, at least they didn't strip your clothes. Probably grabbed you by the roadside."
The thief girl laughed lowly, watching Evan struggle and rage with a slight nod. But soon that squad of soldiers came to the wagon, preparing to throw this final cartload of people into the village that had become a sea of flames.
Only now did Evan get a chance to observe this squad. Clearly these were professional fighters, almost fully armored, absolute elite troops for what looked like a medieval era.
The leader was a tall, strong bald man wielding a flail, followed by seven or eight armored soldiers carrying spears and short swords. But they looked completely casual, treating this whole thing like pouring grain into cattle pens or pigsties.
They were preparing to open the wagon and deliver this final cart of "sacrifices" to those strange and twisted aliens.
Why was this empire offering people as sacrifices to these monsters? These monsters didn't look strong, they even looked laughably weak. The reason was unknowable, but absolutely unforgivable.
Humans could sacrifice themselves for the cause of protecting civilization, sacrifice for noble ideals, sacrifice for great dreams. But they absolutely could not die like this, dying in despair like livestock in the mouths of aliens.
"Mommy, save me. I don't want to, I don't want to die..."
A plain-looking girl trembled like a leaf, but was still forced down from the cart by a spear jabbing her bleeding waist.
She collapsed on the ground shaking, her legs too weak from fear to even stand. She wouldn't move another step even with the sharp spear piercing her flesh. The scarred soldier's eyes gleamed with perversion. He was the same one who'd kicked the woman into the goblin horde earlier.
He crouched down, grabbed the girl's chin, his mouth curled in an excited smile.
"This one's not bad. We don't need just this one, right, boss?"
The bald man didn't even look at him.
"Get lost. That last thing isn't settled yet. But we do have enough sacrifices. Ask Scar-eye if they still need slaves. If we short the Imperial tax collector, we'll lose this cushy job."
"We've been catching too many lately. That old geezer already said he doesn't want more. Having some fun with this one wouldn't matter, right? I really want to see how she screams."
The scarred soldier laughed cruelly, his eyes gleefully looking at the boy whose eyes were bloodshot red, clearly related to that girl. The bald man sighed and nodded slightly, agreeing.
"No! My father still has money. My family still has..."
The girl was so scared she was about to pass out. Her fingers scraped the ground until they bled, trying to crawl back. But those soldiers just cheered, dragging her by the legs and throwing her straight toward those watching goblins.
Filthy heretics. Evan instinctively tried to stand and forcibly break free of his chains. Right at that moment, a vast voice suddenly rang in his mind:
[In the Emperor's name, execute righteous fury. Role-playing progress +50%]
[Death Korps of Krieg role-playing progress: 50%, currently at zero layers.]
[Progress from 0% to 100% unlocks one card draw opportunity to obtain abilities, weapons, or even temporary allies.]
[Current ability: The Dead March to Death]
[The Dead March to Death: Gain complete Krieg memories and combat abilities. Slowly recover from any non-fatal injuries. Once per day survival chance against excessive fatal damage.]
This was a system?
Evan almost instantly became alert. In the Warhammer universe, any voice appearing out of nowhere deserved ten thousand times the vigilance. But this didn't seem to be the Warhammer universe anymore. And if it required role-playing as a Death Korps soldier, those four Chaos Gods couldn't get anything good from him anyway.
Besides, what appeared in his mind wasn't some mysterious temptation or false peace, but combat memories so heavy and silent they nearly suffocated him. Nearly a hundred different Krieg memories from various unit types instantly drove into the depths of his mind.
Evan had already served for decades. These memories further enhanced his combat abilities, even including engineering knowledge he wasn't very good at.
More importantly, the current situation left Evan no time. Even if this voice was fake, was lying to him, he still had to choose resistance right now. He absolutely wouldn't allow his fellow humans to be killed by aliens right in front of him.
"Hey, soldier, don't space out. This is your last chance. I'm not saving you for nothing. Just run in the opposite direction from me later. Whether we survive is up to fate."
Just as Evan started thinking, the handcuffs transmitted a strange vibration.
Looking over, somehow the girl had several oddly-shaped iron wires in her hands. While the soldiers were talking, she'd already unlocked everyone's shackles, but she'd only approached him specifically.
The reason was simple. He was clearly the most combat-capable person here, more likely to draw fire for her.
"My name's Rowena. See you if we're fated..."
"Liliya! You bastards! Let her go!"
Just as the girl calling herself Rowena finished speaking, a red-eyed boy was shocked to discover his handcuffs had somehow already been unlocked. He almost didn't hesitate. Roaring, he grabbed the only somewhat useful iron chain and charged those soldiers with tears in his eyes.
Crack.
A crisp sound like hitting a watermelon.
The bald leader seemed somewhat surprised, but still casually swung his flail. With a whistling sound, the heavy ball precisely hit the top of the boy's head.
The boy's charging body collapsed limply, falling forward from momentum. Blood flowed from all seven orifices. All his muscles twitched unnaturally like freshly slaughtered beef, gasping desperate, suffocating breaths from his mouth. This degree of cranial trauma clearly meant no chance of survival.
"Badel! Badel?! No..."
Whether grief exceeded all limits or the soldiers were distracted by this sudden situation, the girl actually broke free from two soldiers. She threw herself beside the still-twitching boy, wailing as she tried to press down on that wound constantly leaking brain matter.
Clearly this was futile. This boy was certainly dead.
"Damn it, this idiot. Run! Later when they react..."
Rowena's voice dropped for an instant. People on other wagons looked at their hands in shock, exchanging glances. Anyone who wasn't stupid turned and ran madly toward the forest. But those soldiers had no intention of pursuing, just watching everything happen from a distance.
Creak.
Silently breaking the chains off his body, the sound instantly drew everyone's attention. Evan straightened up. His far from tall frame blocked those fleeing children's path. His rough, low breathing suddenly echoed across the burning plain.
These children probably couldn't outrun this group of heretics who sacrificed human lives. He had to step forward and stop them, even barehanded. He could definitely easily beat these people down.
But not knowing whether that voice was real or not, Evan decided to keep role-playing as a Krieg soldier, just to avoid any problems.
"Oh, looks like we have more than one hero."
The bald man had been about to call it quits, but seeing Evan step forward, he sneered and hoisted the flail onto his shoulder.
"Bastard, you're the only one who looks halfway reliable. Don't fight them! You're unarmed, how many can you take?"
"Whatever. Good luck to you. I'm leaving!"
Rowena's eyes went wide. She clearly hadn't expected the most reliable-looking Evan would actually choose to stand up and resist. In her panic, she couldn't worry about anything else, just cursed a few times and turned to run toward the forest.
But soon her steps stopped too.
Those goblins had long been watching the last cartload of people hungrily. They'd already positioned themselves in the forest. Green figures filled the canopy and undergrowth.
Several children who'd bolted were already screaming, caught by traps, hung from trees as the goblins excitedly started slowly flaying their skin. Blood poured down with their screams.
These goblins very deliberately avoided that squad of soldiers, grinning as they surrounded these desperate children in layers. No need to count. There were easily over a hundred short goblins here. Even a hundred dogs wouldn't be easy to deal with, let alone armed little humanoids.
"Let these goblins do it themselves. I'm not interested in actually playing pig feeder. Scar-face, you watch and don't let anyone escape."
Watching those terrified, retreating children and the barehanded figure standing silently on the plain, the bald man narrowed his eyes, sneered, and mounted one of the wagons. He dragged the empty cages up to the hillside, leaving only that scarred soldier here holding a horse and watching.
"Got it, boss."
The scarred soldier's smile looked no different from a goblin's. He hefted his short sword and small shield, watching with great interest, ready to enjoy the upcoming slaughter.
"We're done for. Really done for this time. Falling into their hands is way worse than dying. Soldier, if your legs aren't weak, could you do me a favor and strangle me now..."
Rowena laughed bitterly. She was clearly weak-kneed. Though her eyes were still darting around, trying to find some way out, obviously the monsters had completely surrounded this group.
No escape. Fight to the death.
[Will to protect humanity, never retreat. Role-playing progress +50%]
[Death Korps of Krieg role-playing progress: 100%, unlocked one layer, reward one draw point. Can draw once for ability, weapon, or assistance.]
Just as Evan stood there thinking about how to conserve strength for the counterattack, that voice suddenly rang out again. Looking around, those children had instinctively shrunk close to him.
Probably this behavior was judged as protecting humanity, so he'd gained the so-called role-playing progress.
In that case, whether this was the Emperor's blessing or some Chaos curse didn't matter anymore.
"Draw."