Note :
Before you guys comment... Yes this is the same story as Marvel: Warhammer Simulator its from the same RAW but i did not use any of his version on mine, I did the edit from the start, and since his version already have 140 chapter available, i will do batch update this week, 50 chapter each until i get to 140+ on here and free on public p@treon. After that i will stock pile update a little bit for P@treon and then i will do a daily release like other.
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Earth.
North America, United States.
New York, Manhattan, Chinatown
At nine o'clock in the morning, Nolan sat on the worn sofa of his cramped apartment, his jaw tight and his hands clasped together. The leather beneath him had cracked from years of use, and springs poked through the cushions in places. He barely noticed the discomfort.
His true identity was something impossible to explain: a transmigrator from another world, another life entirely.
If it weren't for the explosive news blaring from the boxy television across the room, announcing that Stark Industries had closed its weapons manufacturing division, Nolan might have convinced himself this was just a parallel world.
But it wasn't.
Nolan had been a casual fan in his previous life. A movie enthusiast who enjoyed superhero films and skimmed through comic wikis when he was bored. The characters and plots that hardcore fans could recite from memory existed in his mind as little more than hazy impressions, fragments of scenes recalled imperfectly.
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to dredge up what he could remember. A few major plot points surfaced through the murk of half-forgotten cinema experiences.
The Battle of New York. Thousands of casualties.
The rise and fall of Ultron. Unknown casualties, but surely devastating.
And the infinity wars where Thanos snapped his fingers and erased half the universe's population in an instant.
A shudder ran down Nolan's spine, raising goosebumps along his arms. His stomach twisted.
Watching superhero movies from the safety of a theater was one thing. Living through those disasters was something else entirely.
Making matters worse, the Nolan who had traveled through time and space possessed only the merged memories of an ordinary teenager. Same name, same face, but a life defined by tragedy. Parents dead. No inheritance. No wealth, no connections, no superpowers.
Nothing.
Now, Nolan could only live in the small home his guardian aunt provided. Each day, he helped out at her restaurant during the afternoon and evening shifts, collecting meager tips from customers one crumpled dollar at a time. He was trying, desperately, to save enough for college tuition.
The thought of running away had crossed his mind more than once.
If he maxed out his aunt's credit card and combined it with his saved tuition money, he could afford a plane ticket to Asia. Maybe, just maybe, he'd stumble across the Ancient One at Kamar-Taj and become a sorcerer apprentice. Even if his identity as a transmigrator was somehow discovered and he ended up getting interrogated by S.H.I.E.L.D., that would still be better than becoming another statistic in the Battle of New York.
But he couldn't do it.
The memories he'd inherited from this world's Nolan were too strong. His aunt had raised him since childhood, caring for him when no one else would. The bond between them ran deeper than blood. It was love, pure and simple, and he couldn't just abandon her.
Besides, even if he tried to convince her to move, to flee to safety, she wouldn't listen. She was a middle-aged woman with a stubborn streak a mile wide and a life built in this neighbourhood. Her restaurant, her customers, her routine. Nothing a teenager could say would uproot all of that.
So Nolan had compromised. He'd scraped together part of his tuition savings and rented the basement of their old apartment building. Armed with borrowed tools from neighbors, he'd spent weeks reinforcing it. Steel plates bolted to the walls. Wooden boards nailed over the windows. Shelves stocked with canned food, bottled water, first aid supplies.
A bunker.
He could only hope that when the Battle of New York erupted, he and his aunt would be home. Safe. Together.
The wall clock ticked onward. Nine-thirty.
Nolan pushed himself off the sofa, his body stiff from sitting too long. Time to start his daily routine. Morning classes for his final year of high school, though he barely paid attention anymore. Afternoon and evening shifts at the restaurant, serving customers and bussing tables. Then late into the night, more work on the basement, more reinforcements. The borrowed tools needed to be returned soon, and his schedule left almost no room to breathe.
He took a single step toward the door.
Then froze.
Letters flickered across his vision, glowing faintly against the air itself. Garbled characters that resolved into readable text, like a computer screen loading directly onto his retinas.
[Warhammer 40K: Life Simulator Starting...]
[Do you want to start the first simulation?]
Nolan blinked hard. The text remained.
Warhammer 40K. Not the tabletop game, but the sprawling science fiction universe built through novels, comics, games, and animations. A setting he'd only encountered as a casual fan, a "cloud kid" who'd never actually played the games or read the books.
In his previous life, he'd learned about Warhammer through YouTube and TikTok. High-quality lore videos produced by creators who chronicled epic battles and tragic stories. He'd watched enough to understand the basic storylines, the major factions, the general composition of the various races that populated that universe.
But detailed knowledge? Specific battles on specific planets? The masterminds behind particular events?
He was blind to all of that.
His frown deepened as confusion gave way to creeping dread.
Why would a transmigrator's cheat ability connect to the Warhammer universe? Of all possible settings, why that one?
Warhammer 40K was a nightmare. A dark, ignorant, desperate universe crawling with horrors. Chaos ran rampant. The Imperium was corrupt and rotting from within. Alien civilizations circled like vultures, waiting for humanity to falter. Any hope that existed was nothing more than a faint spark, barely enough to delay the inevitable destruction of everything.
If given a choice, Nolan was certain that only the most confused masochists would willingly choose the Warhammer universe. And even those masochists would probably start crying the moment reality set in.
He stared at the floating text, his mind racing.
But confusion didn't erase the simple truth: his survival might depend on this strange gift. If this simulator could somehow help him prepare for the disasters ahead, he had to try. Had to gamble on this golden finger, no matter how terrifying the source.
To live a better life, he would take the risk.
[Simulation starting...]
[You have arrived in the Warhammer universe]
[Location: Milky Way (unknown star field)]
[The moment you step onto the planet's surface, the Warp trembles. The eyes of the Four Chaos Gods fall upon you.]
[You clutch your head with both hands and collapse to your knees, wailing.]
[xxxxxx appears in your mind (shielded)]
[Your skull explodes.]
[You are dead.]
[This simulation ends in fifteen seconds.]
[This simulation failed to retain any options.]
[This simulation time is less than 24 hours. Simulator loss has been exempted.]
Nolan sat motionless, his eyes wide and unseeing.
Dead. Just like that.
He blinked slowly, his mind struggling to process the fleeting experience of death that had just burned through his consciousness. Even though it was only a simulation, the sensation lingered. A phantom pain where his skull had been.
Even for Warhammer 40K, wasn't the difficulty too extreme?
"The Four Chaos Gods," he whispered.
His eyes focused on the words still hovering in his vision, and understanding crashed over him like cold water.
"I know too much about the Warp."
The Four Chaos Gods, also known as the Warp's Evil Gods. Born during the War in Heaven, when the ancient Necrontyr battled the Old Ones, they'd emerged from the psychic screams of countless intelligent beings dying in agony. Fed by negative emotions, sustained by suffering, growing stronger with every act of violence and despair across the galaxy.
Chaos was immortal. The Four Gods were eternal.
The more chaotic the Warhammer universe became, the more powerful the Chaos Gods grew. And the more powerful the Chaos Gods became, the more chaotic the universe spiraled. A feedback loop of horror that had continued for forty thousand years.
No hope. Only war.
"Can I block my memory?" Nolan asked aloud, addressing the simulator.
Silence. The text didn't change. No response came.
Of course not. The simulator was just a tool, not some interactive system with a helpful AI guide.
"I don't believe this," Nolan muttered, his jaw setting with stubborn determination.
He abandoned his plans to attend class and dropped back onto the sofa, settling in with grim resolve.
[Simulation starting...]
[You have arrived in the Warhammer universe]
[Location: Milky Way (unknown star field)]
[The moment you step onto the planet's surface, you begin praying desperately to the Emperor. The Warp shakes once more. The eyes of the Four Gods fall upon you again.]
[Your prayers to the Emperor seem to have no effect.]
[You clutch your head with both hands and collapse to your knees, wailing.]
[You are on the verge of death. In a trance, you seem to glimpse a cold sun shining upon your soul...]
[Your skull explodes.]
[You are dead.]