"Father… there's been no word from him for a long time. Sigh…"
"Could it be because of what happened last time…?"
"Shh! Don't let Lord Sevatar hear you!"
"But the problem is, Lord Sevatar is looking for Father too…"
"At this point, we should wake this unlucky bastard up first."
"I can't tell if this recruit is lucky or unlucky. He actually got the chance to see Father."
…
Huh?
As the chatter buzzed around his ears, Bruce gradually woke from his sleep, two sets of memories crashing back and forth inside his mind.
It was like two dung-hauling machines from some group chat were疯狂 spamming chat logs nonstop, fumigating his brain until his skull throbbed and nausea shot straight to the top of his head.
It also felt like his soul had been torn apart alive, then forcibly glued back together—only for the glue to fail before setting, leaving everything stirred into a tangled mess again.
I'm Bruce… and also Wang… what was it again?
Bruce vaguely remembered that he came from a world called Earth. At the time, he had been deeply engrossed in hunting down a doujin titled The Unofficial Warhammer History: The Emperor x the Warmaster for "spellcasting material."
Then, for no reason at all, a heated-up soft catgirl had exploded right in his face.
Facts had proven that a human skull simply could not withstand being directly plastered in the face by high-speed shrapnel, even if that shrapnel was made of plastic and silicone.
Because the last thing Bruce saw was absolute darkness—then he lost consciousness completely.
At the same time, the memories belonging to this world gradually became clearer.
He came from Holy Terra. Answering the summons of the great Master of Mankind, he had passed layer upon layer of selection and brutal training, and at last had the honor of becoming an Astartes of the Eighth Legion.
Damn it! My preferred choice was clearly the Nineteenth Legion, the Raven Guard. How did I end up assigned to the Eighth instead? And the senior who should have joined the Night Lords—Sigismund—actually ended up in the Seventh Legion, the Imperial Fists.
"Where is this…?"
Only after barely digesting the two sets of soul-memories did Bruce finally force his eyes open.
For an Astartes, this rate of recovery was honestly unimpressive. But it was understandable—his wounds were mental, not physical.
That said, as for the cause of those psychic injuries…
Bruce's last clear memory remained fixed on recruit intake: he had accidentally encountered the Primarch, and then… there was no "then." Most of the memory was blurred, as though hidden behind a layer of warp-fog.
"Recruit, you're Bruce Wayne? From Holy Terra?"
Legion Apothecary Toma flipped through a file, questioning Bruce on the hospital bed in a tone tinged with interrogation.
Beside him, several Astartes had already contacted others through their vox, reporting that the recruit had awakened.
"Yes…"
Bruce's vision gradually focused, and only then did he realize he was strapped to something resembling a restraint chair.
A full five Astartes in deep blue power armor were staring at him. Faint lightning motifs could be seen on their armor, their helms bore the striking shape of red bat wings, and bits of what looked like fresh leather and skulls hung from their plate as ornaments.
The look reminded Bruce of a game called The Forest, where you could kill cannibals and mutants, then strip off their bones or flesh to make armor.
But compared to the designs in that game, the appearance of these men radiated an indescribable terror.
So… this was a hospital?
That had been Bruce's first assumption. After all, the one questioning him was an Apothecary. But the environment in front of him forced him to reconsider.
It was far too dark. Bloodstained instruments and tools were everywhere, and the only source of light was the surgical lamp overhead.
Granted, Astartes possessed superhuman eyesight and could see even without light, let alone the Night Lords, who excelled in night warfare—but an environment this wretched, like some black dungeon, was still excessive.
"Is the kid scared?"
"By the Emperor above! Look what I'm seeing—a son of Curze, afraid of his own battle-brothers?"
"Looks like we'll need to examine his head a little more thoroughly."
"Even if we're going to examine him, that has to wait until Lord Sevatar is done interrogating him."
"Our mighty First Captain will be here soon. Poor little thing. I'll pray for you."
The five Astartes chatted among themselves while Bruce used his enhanced Astartes mind to rapidly piece together information.
The good news was that he hadn't been captured by enemies, nor would his own battle-brothers skin him alive.
The bad news was that getting skinned might not be far off anyway. They had just said he was about to face interrogation—and it would be conducted by Sevatar personally.
This First Captain of the Night Lords, the legion's de facto spokesman, could kill him as easily as breathing, even without resorting to any torture methods.
So I get thrown into hard mode the moment I transmigrate, huh? This Warhammer universe really is too dark. I hope my next life lets me transmigrate into Teyvat so I can play happily with cute little animals…
"I… I was attacked… by the Primarch."
Bruce tried to organize the vague fragments in his mind and slowly spoke.
"The Primarch?" Apothecary Toma raised a brow and repeated the word.
Bruce hurriedly nodded. "Yes. The Primarch I mean—our genetic father, Konrad Curze…"
The moment he finished speaking, a set of faint but distinct footsteps rang out.
It was the heavy sound unique to power armor contacting the floor. In the next second, a man with a glaring facial scar stepped into Bruce's field of view.
"You're saying our father launched an attack? Along with those battle-brothers?"
"L-Lord Sevatar!"
The five Night Lords immediately saluted the First Captain of the Legion.
"Leave. I have questions for him alone. Don't interrupt unless necessary."
Sevatar ignored their salute and directly ordered them out.
"Yes, sir!"
The chamber was quickly emptied, leaving only Bruce, still bound to the chair, and Sevatar, who had extended his lightning claws.
"The Primarch has been missing for a long time. I've been searching for his whereabouts."
Sevatar looked at the recruit before him, his attitude unexpectedly restrained.
"Tell me everything you know. I don't want this to become any worse. Understood?"
Though Sevatar was no saint, it was always better to avoid unnecessary trouble. More importantly, for a recruit to survive an attack from the Primarch, either he had some real ability—or the Primarch had deliberately held back.
Otherwise, with a Primarch's combat power, a recruit like Bruce should never have survived to this point.
"All I know is that, that day, the moment the transport's hatch opened, the Prim—Father rushed in through the hatch and attacked us like he'd gone mad."
"He was too fast. I couldn't see clearly at all."
"And then? When you went down, did you know where he went?" Sevatar asked while quietly activating his psychic power, trying to determine whether Bruce was lying.
The moment he detected even the slightest trace of falsehood, he would enter full "interrogation mode" without hesitation. It didn't matter whether Bruce was one of their own. No battle-brother, however important, outweighed even a single strand of the Primarch's hair.
"I don't know. I dropped before I even had time to react…"
Bruce answered with some shame.
Even as a recruit, he was still a glorious Astartes, yet he had gone down without even seeing his enemy clearly. It was just too humiliating. Calling himself the most pathetic transmigrator of all time wouldn't be an exaggeration.
After all, what kind of protagonist gets beaten senseless during the "opening cutscene" of the tutorial and passes out? It was like some utterly useless husband.
"Is that so?"
Sevatar deliberately dragged out his tone as he stared at Bruce.
After less than half a second of thought, he made his decision—his lightning claws activated.
Bzzzt—
Weak arcs of electricity illuminated his terrifying, scarred face, utterly devoid of emotion, as he slowly advanced toward Bruce.
After weighing it over, Sevatar had decided that a proper interrogation was still the safest course.
If necessary… he would personally eat this recruit's brain and extract the most complete memories possible. For the Primarch's whereabouts, it would all be worth it.
"Lord Sevatar? I really have told you everything I know!"
Looking at the cold-faced Sevatar stepping closer and closer, Bruce panicked completely.
As a lore-fan of Warhammer, he had admired this so-called Prince of Crows back in his original world.
His personality had been so appealing—loyal, capable, one of the few people propping up the Night Lords' whole aura of menace.
But the problem was that such a loyal man of action, for the sake of his Legion and Primarch, would do absolutely anything to him.
"Sorry, recruit."
Sevatar's tone held pity, yet was utterly unwavering.
"In my eyes, the Primarch's value stands above all else—including my own life."
This was his final mercy to Bruce: letting him understand what he was dying for.
You would have made a fine warrior. But I'm sorry—for the Legion and for the Lord of Night, I can only ask you to—
Smack—
A soft muffled sound rang out, followed by the fwhump of cloth whipping through the air.
In the next second, Sevatar collapsed with a crash, his massive armored body smashing into the bricks stained with dried fluids and cracking the floor.
From the darkness, a petite figure and a pair of crimson eyes slowly emerged.
"…?"
Bruce stared blankly at the girl in a dress with bat wings sprouting from her back, stunned for a long while.
The Prim—? No… no, that's not right!
The sight was too shocking. Even with the powerful physique of an Astartes, his soul felt as though it had been washed over by a psychic blast, leaving him utterly unable to comprehend what he was seeing.
In his blurred memory, the one who had attacked him that day really had been her. And the genetic connection screaming inside him confirmed beyond doubt that she was the Primarch of the Night Lords.
But the problem was…
Why was it Remilia Scarlet?
Wasn't she a character from Touhou Project?
This was clearly the Warhammer universe!
"Recruit, answer my question."
The noble Lord of Night planted one foot atop Sevatar's power armor, hands on her hips, and did her best to maintain an imposing tone.
"You don't belong to this world, do you?"
"Y-Yes! Father!"
Under the combined pressure of bloodline suppression and a keen instinct for danger, Bruce answered at once.
"Very good. Thank you for your cooperation."
The girl gave a slight nod, then abruptly changed course.
"And one more thing… I am not your father."
The blue-haired girl in a pink-and-white princess dress curled her lips into a faint smile, revealing sharp fangs. Her already crimson eyes glowed eerily in the darkness.
"But I do need an agent. And you are quite suitable."
Curze—no! From now on, she had to be called Lady Remilia—raised a hand and released a strange psychic force, instantly destroying the specialized restraints binding Bruce.
The moment his feet touched the ground and he regained his freedom, Bruce did not hesitate in the slightest. He immediately jogged forward, dropped to one knee, and slid all the way to the feet of the Lord of Night.
"This humble subordinate, Bruce Wayne, is willing to throw himself into fire and water for milady, and die without regret!"
Hell yes! Being milady's dog is practically the greatest honor of my life!
"Interesting."
Curze was very pleased with the loyalty Bruce had offered.
As for whether it was sincere, she could tell with a single glance. There was not the slightest falsehood in either his words or his soul.
More importantly…
The prophecy in her mind had long shown that this boy before her was the key to breaking the deadlock—the only one.
"Milady! Your subordinate has one thing he does not understand! Please hear me out before passing judgment!"
"Speak." Curze nodded.
"If I'm to become your agent, then I'll need some means of intimidating the others, won't I? You know as well as I do that my strength doesn't really match the loyalty I'm offering, so…"
"Catch."
Before Bruce could finish, Curze casually tossed him a crown she had evidently prepared in advance.
Set with a crimson gemstone, the crown was forged entirely from black diamond. To her current form, it was almost the size of a belt; to an Astartes, it was merely a slightly oversized coronet.
"Th-this…"
Bruce hurriedly caught the falling Crown of Night and couldn't help swallowing hard.
The crown looked simple, but in truth it symbolized Curze's authority and the right to inherit control of the Legion. It was practically the Night Lords' version of an imperial seal. And yet Curze had thrown it over without the slightest concern for damaging it.
"I've given you the opportunity. What you do with it depends on your performance."
Curze beckoned Bruce closer.
He obeyed at once. Curze stepped on Sevatar's back, gave a little hop with her short legs, and landed on Bruce's shoulder, her wings lightly fluttering in the process.
She… she's not wearing anything?!
The slightly bony yet soft sensation coming from his shoulder made Bruce instantly realize something, but he absolutely did not dare confirm it with the Primarch. If he ever made that explicit, he would definitely die.
"Go. Don't disappoint me."
Curze draped an arm over Bruce's head, looked toward the chamber door, and bared her fangs in a grin.
"If my sons discover I've become this ridiculous, both you and they will have to die."
"So—you know what to do, don't you?"
Wow… that's vicious.
After hearing the Primarch's threat, Bruce couldn't help but shiver. Just because she didn't want her sons to see that she had turned into a loli, she was ready to kill everyone involved?
That was both very Curze… and very Remilia.
"Do you have an objection, Bruce?" Curze pinched his head and forced him to look at her.
"No objections! Bruce is honored to serve you, milady!"
"Excellent! Then go, my proud son!"
"Make the Night Lords great again!" Bruce shouted back.
If you want, I can continue with Chapter 2 in the same polished format.
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 135)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 115)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League (Chapter 110)
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter105)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter100)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter67)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter85)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 60
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 65
From Junkman to Wasteland 50
Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 35
From Kiana, Lord Ravager, Onwa 40
Honkai: Is This Still the Prev 37
Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 27
Warhammer: My Primarch Is Remi 26
From Demon Slayer to Grand Ass 26
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