Cold. Wet. A pervasive sense of sorrow.
My eyelids flickered open, and I was greeted by a world obscured in grime and shadow. The sky above was drizzling, and I found myself lying in a muddy depression, surrounded by hills of refuse. It seemed I had awoken in the only clear space within a vast expanse of garbage. The air reeked of a foul cocktail—decay, smoke, and a sharp, metallic tang that made every breath a reason for concern.
As I staggered to my feet, I surveyed the surroundings. The landscape before me was nothing short of a landfill—a sprawling wasteland of broken technology, discarded machinery, and twisted shards of metal protruding from the ground like jagged teeth. I stood barefoot, my feet sinking into a cold, mysterious liquid that pooled beneath me.
To my surprise, there was no immediate panic. But I could not deny that I was utterly lost.
Where... am I?
The thought barely formed before a sudden sound pierced the silence. A sharp ding echoed in my mind, followed by a cold, mechanical voice that seemed to reverberate through my very skull.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE]
"Welcome, User. You have been reincarnated into the Warhammer 40,000 Universe."
A flickering, holographic display appeared before my eyes—its shimmering blue and gold hue contrasting sharply with the squalor surrounding me.
As a gift from this system, you have received the following:
Access to System Imperialis
Summonable Technology (Cross-Universe Access)
Summonable Personnel: Engineers, Soldiers, Pilots, etc.
Beginner Gift Package: Mercenary Company (100 mercenaries)
Languages: High and Low Gothic
My breath caught in my throat.
Warhammer?
The reality of my situation crashed down on me like a brutal punch. This was no dream. The cold, the stench, the oppressive dread—it was all real.
With a long, resigned sigh, I realized my life would never be peaceful again.
This… this was as close to hell as any unfortunate soul could wake up to.
And yet, beneath the overwhelming confusion and fear, there stirred a reluctant ember of excitement. A thrilling, dangerous sensation.
Power.
Opportunity.
But also terror. Because in the Warhammer universe, power does not merely open doors. It invites danger. It attracts those who are hungry, desperate, and ruthless enough to take it from you.
Greed. Envy. Death.
Especially death.
After a moment of contemplation, I removed the tattered remnants of my shirt and stretched it above my head to shield myself from the rain. It was about as effective as using a bucket with a hole in it, but it was better than wearing soaked rags. My gaze wandered towards the distant skyline, where the twisted spires of a hive city loomed in the distance—crooked towers rising into a blackened sky, smoke billowing like the fingers of some dying, monstrous giant.
This world—no, this forsaken rock—was likely nothing special. A forgotten planet spinning aimlessly in the void. Perhaps a minor hive world, at best. A backwater world that the Imperium only remembers when it needs bodies to throw away in its never-ending wars.
Yet… for me, this was perfect. A place to grow unnoticed. A place where I could rise from obscurity. A place where I could transform from a nameless castaway into a force to be reckoned with.
A grin tugged at the corner of my mouth.
Shaking off the last remnants of hesitation, I tossed the damp shirt aside and straightened my posture, determined to appear less like a drowned rat. I wiped the grime from my face and adopted a mask of confidence—a look of toughness. I couldn't afford to appear weak to whoever would come next.
They would be my summons after all.
With as much authority as I could muster, I commanded:
"System—summon all 100 mercenaries."
Just like that, a hundred figures materialized before me—men of various sizes and ethnicities. They appeared without ceremony, as though they had simply been pulled from the air. Before any of them could speak, I raised my voice and barked:
"Attention!"
To my surprise—and genuine satisfaction—they immediately snapped to attention, aligning themselves in neat rows, their posture rigid and precise. These were mercenaries who understood discipline when it was required.
Now, to establish control. To assert my dominance.
I scanned the crowd, eyes narrowing as I searched for the most scheming, untrustworthy, and intimidating figure among them. There.
Pointing at the man who stood out — his gaze sharp and calculating — I commanded, "You. What's your name?"
The man squinted at me, clearly assessing the situation. After a moment of hesitation, he quickly replied, "This one is called Damien."
Damien. Middle-parted dark black hair, pale complexion, narrow eyes, and a wiry frame. A typical schemer type. Perfect.
Clicking my tongue, I pressed on, "Do you know who I am?"
An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment before Damien answered, his voice careful but respectful:
"Forgive me, Sir. I do not know your name. However, you are our Master. Declare your will, and we shall follow it without question."
Master.
The word felt right. It suited me.
A smug smile curled at my lips. At least they knew their place.
I continued:
"Very well, Damien. You will be my second-in-command. From now on, your word will be my word, and all others will obey you as they would me."
Damien gave a sharp nod. "YES, SIR!"
I let the silence linger for a moment, savoring the feeling of authority before addressing the rest of the group, my voice cold and commanding:
"From now on, address me as... Lord Commander Visery Hydrys."
The words hung in the air, solidifying my new identity. I surveyed the men, noting that all of them were armed with only crude weapons—knives and brass knuckles. The only man with a decent weapon was one holding a lasgun.
I could work with this.
Turning my attention to the man with the lasgun, I made a mental note: he would be by my side from now on. After all, if I didn't keep myself safe, who would?
Next, I picked a man from the front row—one who looked particularly uncomfortable in the rain. His posture was rigid, as if he would rather be anywhere else.
"You. What is your name?"
The man jumped in surprise, wide-eyed. "This one is called Marcus, Lord Hydrys!"
I studied him for a moment, letting the silence stretch uncomfortably before I smirked.
"It seems to me that you don't want to be out here in the rain."
Marcus immediately shook his head, his voice eager to please.
"That's not true, Lord Hydrys! I love the rain! I have no problem with it at all!"
I raised an eyebrow. Is that so?
"Well, then," I said with a grin, "since you love it so much, give me all your clothes, so you can be closer to your beloved rain."
Marcus blinked, taken aback by the absurdity of the command. But before long, he snapped to attention.
"Yes, Lord Hydrys! You can count on me!"
Moments later, Marcus stood before me, completely naked, his clothes neatly folded at his feet.
The other mercenaries, visibly relieved they had not been given the same order, let out a collective sigh.
I turned to Marcus, trying to keep my expression neutral.
"Since you're so eager to help," I said, "you can have my old clothes once I've finished with these."
Marcus beamed with excitement. "Yes, Lord Hydrys! I shall wait here until then!"
I took his clothes, boots included, and began dressing. Once properly attired, I turned my attention to the rest of the mercenaries.
"Scout the area and gather information about our surroundings. Begin preparations to recruit new members into our mercenary company. Anyone interested in joining should report back to me. Collect anything useful, but stay low-key and move in groups of three. Make sure everyone returns to this clearing before nightfall."
I turned to the man with the lasgun.
"You'll stay with me. Your new job is to shoot anyone I tell you to."
With that, the mercenaries scattered, each setting off on their assigned tasks. Marcus, now proudly wearing my discarded clothes, followed the others with a wide grin.
The journey had begun.