Nine hundred years into the forty-first millennium of humanity, a crisis brewed that would shape the fate of the entire galaxy. Beyond the farthest point ever reached by the Sun Lord's expedition, within a halo of stars that the expeditionary force had never set foot on, lay a human civilization distinct from the Empire. They considered themselves descendants of the Golden Men and dubbed themselves the Human Federation. Qiao Wen, fortunately, found himself within the Human Federation. As the sole person handling external affairs for this civilization, he discovered that he could rely not only on ancient human technology but also on his own innate magical powers.

Wayne, a time traveler, traveled to Nostramo in the Warhammer universe and became a powerful aristocratic capitalist. He was thinking that his life would just go on like this when the Primarch's cultivation chamber fell from the sky, smashed through Wayne's adamantine barrier, and appeared in the factory. At this time, Wayne knew that his chance to adopt the Primarch had come.

There is a man. He gains power after slaying demons. He is fearless and dares to challenge any powerful foe. He is incredibly strong, with a wild fighting style. He is… Lu Jin: “That’s right, it’s me.” Lu Jin transmigrated to the Warhammer universe. Severely injured, he discovered that besides his innate fearlessness and physical strength, he also possessed a peculiar ability to grow stronger in battle. In a cruel universe filled only with war, Lu Jin embarked on a path to becoming a war god, leaving behind many famous quotes. “Trying to tempt me into becoming Khorne’s chosen one? What kind of bravery is it to kill? Let Khorne be my chosen one!” “Real beings generate emotions to nourish the Warp, and the Warp has nothing to repay real beings…” “Imperial nobles want to enslave me? They deserve to die!”

What interesting things would happen if the Primarch and the Emperor watched footage of the future together?

They will witness the death of heroes, the fall of the vile, the truth of the warp, and that distant, dark future. And what decisions will they make afterward?

(This is a story written by a new author out of love, so the synopsis is inadequate. The story will mainly focus on the Empire and the Primarchs.)

Transcending into the Warhammer world. The Middle Ages are a chaotic wasteland, with the shadow of eternal destruction looming over all timelines. The end is nigh, and the grand game of the Chaos Gods unfolds in the Middle Ages. Carrying a simulator, when faced with the choice between becoming Primal Chaos and the Watchers of Order, will you destroy or save the world? In the 40th millennium of Warhammer, endless war engulfs the entire galaxy. The Emperor is long gone, buried on the Golden Throne. The Astragalus and Astartes have paid a heavy price; even the Primarch's return cannot halt the Imperium's despair. The edifice is crumbling, and the Dark Lord is about to rise from the throne. A decisive outcome will change everything, ensuring humanity's glory endures. Conquer or destroy the Xenomorphs, only in the name of Primal Chaos, in the sight of the gods.

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...

Darkness and despair are the bywords of this world, tormenting every living thing like a living hell. But this time, fate played a small trick, allowing a forgotten knight to be reborn with new life. Looking upon the suffering Imperium, the great Primarch of the Second Legion, the Knight of Knights, the Warmaster of Warmasters, Mordred, cried out loudly: "Father, I never wanted to betray you, but if we cannot save the Imperium from your mistakes, then let the galaxy burn!

[Farming + Warhammer Fantasy + War + Slow Pace]

The shadow of the end has loomed over the century-long countdown, and the chaotic torrent is about to breach the world's dams. Demons roar, tearing reality apart, nations crumble in the flames of war, and even the highest gods cannot escape their fate of demise.

Who can reverse this doomed fate?

"Humans? They're as fragile as paper, not a single one of them is worth a fight!"

"Pointy ears? All they do is fight amongst themselves and gossip, they're such useless sissies!"

"Short and timid? Hiding in holes like turtles, just a bunch of shut-ins getting moldy!"

A green-skinned orc with bared fangs spat, surveying the battlefield with disdain. Behind him stretched an endless mass of massive black orcs, their muscular bodies laden with spoils; there were night goblin fanatics wielding bone spikes, their crimson eyes burning with Waaaaagh flames; there was the Queen Spider, a mobile fortress, her eight legs sending debris flying wherever they stepped; there were the Great Techies carrying booming firearms, their strange devices crackling with electricity—even the legendary ancient space machine, supposedly floating in the clouds, hummed and followed behind the green-skinned army.

When the soul of the transmigrator collided with this green-skinned body born for war, and when the cold system interface met the green-skinned man's greatest "I think" technique, a wonderful chemical reaction erupted.

The orc suddenly raised his giant axe, its blade gleaming coldly in the sunlight, and a deafening roar echoed through the heavens and earth:

"I think—to save this wretched world, we still need our big green skins!"

"From this day forward, I am the savior!"

"Waaaaagh!"

Forty-two millennia later, the Great Rift ripped the galaxy in two, the Emperor's light gradually dimmed, and half of the Imperium of Man was plunged into endless despair and war. In this dark realm known as the "Dark Side of the Imperium," whispers of Chaos corrupt the hearts of the people, a surge of xenos devours the stars, and the isolated world of Mankind, plagued by suspicion and internal conflict, is on the verge of self-destruction.

However, when a soul, burdened with a thousand years of infamy, returns from the Warp, everything will be turned upside down. Astra Sarahar, scion of the former First Legion, a "Fallen Angel" hunted by his former brothers, opened his eyes in the darkness of despair.

What kind of fate awaits him?

(The early part is boring, no problem, but the latter part is even more boring, haha.)

Human civilization has entered the 30th millennium. The galaxy is burning in the human civil war, and the Emperor's expedition to reshape civilization has come to nothing.

At this moment of hope and despair, Roche, who has ended his long sleep, begins his journey.

As the only executor of the "Reinforce the Future" plan, he will use the legacy of the Golden Age to continue human civilization and continuously complete the technology tree to seek a breakthrough.

Emperor: This universe is hopeless. Go, leave, and remember your mission.

Roche: Hope has never disappeared, the expedition has never stopped, and there are infinite possibilities in the multiverse. When I return, everything will be redeemed.

I am the close ally of the Primarch, the pioneer of the revival of the Eldar, the most powerful and domineering waaaaghboss in the eyes of the green-skinned orcs, the possessor of the Necrons