My savior, the gods have chosen you to save this world! What? What world is this? This is the Warhammer universe! What? Which god summoned you? The Dark Prince Slaanesh, of course! In the name of Slaanesh, save the Warhammer universe!

When you wake up from your sleep to find yourself in a damp, dark, muddy trench, surrounded by soldiers trembling and praying, clutching crosses. —"The Second Battle of Ypres? No problem, just put on your gas mask, you'll survive!" —"The Somme? We can only leave our fate to God." —"Is it the Verdun meat grinder? Oh well, God's useless now, dying is just a fresh start." —"Wait, what does it mean that Duke Constantine led the last of the New Antiochian Knights to resist the attack of the demonic army from hell? What the hell timeline did this put me in?"... In 1099, the Crusades conquered Jerusalem, inadvertently opening the gates of hell. From that moment on, the timeline changed, and human civilization entered a thousand-year dark age of fighting against the demonic army of hell. And Liston, who traveled to this timeline, was clearly a doctor saving lives, but...

Li Chui woke up to a deafening explosion, his first thought being that the trolls on the Warhammer forum were arguing in his head again last night.

Until he found himself lying on a smoking, scorched earth, the sky dyed a sickly purplish-red, a giant fortress collapsing in the distance, and a giant over two meters tall, wearing black and gold power armor, walking towards him, his chainsaw axe emitting a piercing roar.

"Holy crap," Li Chui blinked, his Qatari instincts kicking in as he rolled behind a boulder, "This cosplay is way too real!"

Zhang Yuan wakes up to find himself drenched in acid rain from the Warhammer 40K universe. Good news: he's been picked up by a grumbling, down-on-his-luck old merchant ronin who, in his drunken stupor, has changed the name of his family's "empire's strongest financial product"—the Merchant Ronin Agreement—to Zhang Yuan's! Bad news: the Orks are here, and the old man, to cover him, charges into the Orc horde with the "Last Laugh" pistol (the real "Last Laugh"), which has a 30% misfire rate. To save a little kid, Zhang Yuan swings a lightweight alloy door panel—as light as a takeout cooler lid—at the Orks. But to the Orks, it instantly transforms into a "giant sword radiating the holy light of the Second Brother!" The more the Orks fear him, the harder he swings, carving out the title of "Emperor's Chosen" and turning the hive into "Zhang Yuan's Pleasure House" with his worshippers. Until the new planetary governor, rubbing his hands together, packaged him and his two remaining disabled brothers as a "tithing special" and sent them to the Astronomical Army. Upon boarding, the female Inquisitor, who always assigned him "suicidal" missions, unexpectedly found his exposed trade agreement—it appeared to be stained with the Emperor's old nasal blood… no, the Holy Blood Seal! Now, the Inquisitor is frantically running to verify this "noble installment contract." If valid, Zhang Yuan, whom the governor had just thrown onto the battlefield like trash, might soon return to use the Longfellow family's interstellar treasury to buy the governor's golden toilet to use as a chamber pot. "If only I had stuffed in a couple more green toes when it was buy-one-get-two-free…"—a governor, slumped in the rain, was contemplating a cosmic-level financial blunder.