This is a story about a gear boy. Although he didn't become a space warrior, he wants to tell everyone who hasn't traveled through time: As long as we and Big Head are here, the Empire's combat effectiveness is still 99%, and humanity will still stand firm! In the name of the holy binary, loudly praise Ohm Messiah. All glory to the God of All Machines. Praise together. Praise machinery, praise steel. You are the master who casts all things, the apocalypse that destroys everything. Evaporate, burn, and cast. Steel is eternal, machinery is immortal, and the way of steel is materialism. Machinery is the truth. More is better, bigger is beautiful. Billions of turrets are your glory. Roaring engines are your sermons. (The author is not a serious person, so the story is not a serious story. ps: GW's story setting is too ridiculous. In order to make the story more rigorous and reasonable, I changed it. If you don't like it, please don't criticize)

This is an age of humanity's resurgence! After countless trials and tribulations, a great being known as the Emperor is formally attempting to rebuild the glory of the human race. But on the other side of the material universe, the Chaos Gods have long since regarded humanity as their main course... In this dark and terrifying cosmos, the only future is war!

That is, until the soul of an ancient Terran, named Osiris, arrives in the Warhammer universe and into the body of Lycaeus. The threads of destiny begin to intertwine. Can this outsider turn the tide for a humanity whose fate is already sealed?

For now, Osiris knows nothing of this. He's staring blankly at the mining pick in his hand...

"Damn it, hasn't Corax's amniotic pod landed yet? I don't want to mine anymore!!!!" Sandman stares into the pitch-black mine and falls into a profound silence...