Marshall Kane died the way most soldiers do. Quick and pointless.
One minute he was crouched in the mud of some shit hole forward base. The next a sniper round took the top of his skull off. BANG!
He cursed his ancestors as he dropped dead. Cursing them for giving him the illusion that being a soldier was badass.
Nightmare fuel. A word that Marshall never pondered on. But now he found himself living it. Or rather standing right inside it. He remembered being shot in the head. But there he was now. Standing perfectly fine without a single piece of cloth on his body.
Where am I?
Breathing felt different. Taking a tinge bit more effort to inhale and exhale. The air tasted of rust. Piss. And corpse starch. The walls around him stretched up into a rusty infinity. Leaking coolant pipes. Distant red lumens flickering like dying stars. The noises around him were those he had never heard in his entire life. Distant sirens. Manufactorum hammers. Screams.
What the fuck?
Then the system hit.
Ting!
Imperial Tyrant System Activated.
Host Body: Lucian Voss. Lost Primarch Template (Dormant).
Current Location: Underhive Level Σ 13. Hive City Dominus. World of Kronos.
Life Expectancy Without System: 3 hours (gang execution pending).
Tyrant Points: 0.
First Quest: Claim Your First Womb.
Reward: +10 Primarch Strength. Minor Regeneration. 500 Tyrant Points.
Failure: Permanent Death.
A savage grin split Lucian's new face. These corpse worshipping bastards have no idea what just woke up.