Chapter One: A Desperate Journey Through Time

“In the distant future, there is only endless war.”
Warhammer 40k

“Where is this place?”

This was Wang Ming’s first thought as he felt the coldness of the ground beneath him. He sat up from the icy surface, bewildered, gazing at his surroundings. Before his eyes stretched a yellow sky, and beneath him a black metallic ground, its chill piercing sharply into his flesh.

The terrifying unfamiliarity of his environment left him utterly confused. In the sky above, a purple streak stretched across the horizon—he didn’t know why, but the longer he stared at it, the more unsettled he felt.

“Where am I?”

Wang Ming couldn’t comprehend why he was here, and began desperately trying to recall how he might have arrived. In his last memory, he had drunk too much at a class reunion. On his way home, he had been lamenting his life, and eventually sat on the roadside, sobbing loudly about his broken relationship and the hardships of his work.

Just as his sorrow was at its peak, a golden light suddenly appeared before him. The golden radiance spoke to him, offering a chance to travel to a world filled with elves, orcs, and magic.

Without a second thought, he had agreed. In that golden glow, he seemed to catch a glimpse of a massive skeletal figure.

“A giant golden skeleton?”

As Wang Ming recalled this, the image struck a chord of vague familiarity, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“Elves, orcs, magic? A giant golden skeleton? No way…”

These elements combined, and Wang Ming was suddenly reminded of a hopeless world—a world devoid of even a glimmer of hope.

The realization sent a cold sweat streaming down his body, a chill racing up from his tailbone to the crown of his head.

“Impossible! Absolutely impossible!!”

Wang Ming sat on the ground, screaming in near madness, refusing to accept the truth forming in his heart.

[Ding! System has successfully bound to host. Scanning this world and loading power system.]

At that moment, a voice suddenly rang out in Wang Ming’s mind.

“A system? A transmigrator’s system?”

It was as if Wang Ming had found a lifeline; he immediately called out to the system in his mind.

“System! Which world am I in?” he demanded, though he already dreaded the answer he was about to receive.

[Greetings, host. You are in the world of Warhammer 40k, at the front lines of the Fortress World Cadia.]

“So it really is 40k! And the Cadia front lines, no less!”

Other gamers, if transported into their favorite games, would usually be overjoyed. But any Warhammer 40k player who found themselves in that universe would cry like a goblin with a stubbed toe.

Wang Ming watched as shells and red beams from lasguns occasionally streaked across the sky, adding a touch of “beauty” to the yellow heavens, while his heart turned to ice.

“System, what can you do?” Now, Wang Ming could only pin his hopes on the system, praying it had the power to save this poor soul, tricked by that ancient, salty old skeleton.

[This system can help the host grow stronger, stronger, stronger, strongerrrrr…]

The system’s sentence abruptly cut off, as if a television had frozen, the word “strong” repeating before it went silent.

“Crap? System? System? Don’t scare me, system! How am I supposed to survive without you? System!!” Wang Ming now clung to the system as his last hope; its sudden silence filled him with terror.

“Did the four peddlers of the Warp capture my system?” The horrifying thought suddenly flashed through his mind.

[Det… detected irresistible force… initiating… host protection protocol… granting host Primarch physique, granting immortality, granting host top-level system administrator privileges…]

Just then, the system’s voice crackled through again, weak and intermittent, chilling Wang Ming to the core. Had his system really been captured?

“Primarch physique? Immortality? System administrator privileges? Holy—!”

Listening to the system’s words, Wang Ming felt hope surge anew.

As the system’s voice faded, its “inheritance” was deposited into Wang Ming. His body instantly began to expand like a balloon, swelling from a frail, five-foot-nine mortal into a towering demi-god nearly fifteen feet tall.

His clothes were instantly shredded, and he stood naked at the center of the battlefield—yes, the very center. He had been crouched in a metal trench, and his original height had prevented him from seeing his surroundings.

Now, granted the physique of a Primarch, he stood over four meters tall, and finally saw how awkward his position truly was.

On both sides of the battlefield, in their respective trenches, the Planetary Defense Forces and the Chaos cultists stared in shock at the sudden appearance of a giant in their midst—so much so that, for a moment, they completely forgot to open fire.