[Secret recorded: Keeper of Secrets.]
[Secrecy Level: Level Five, Ultra.]
[Description: You come from a higher “???” dimension, free to travel across all worlds and realms.]
[Reward: Cosmic Anchor, Cognitive Exemption, Inviolable Domain]
[Combat Score: +30]
[Current Combat Score: 60]
…
Lancelot did not clearly hear the voice in his mind.
He jolted awake and stared at everything before him.
Inside the dim, cramped metal cargo hold, he looked at the golden Imperial Aquila on the steel wall, then at the boltgun in the distance and the power sword beside his hand.
Lancelot’s heart went half-cold on the spot.
One second ago, he had still been writing some smutty Emperor fanfic in Space Marine 2.
The next, he had transmigrated to this place.
“Am I dreaming?”
Lancelot could not help clutching his head, but in the reflective surface before him, that massively towering figure made the exact same motion.
At this point… there was no deceiving himself anymore.
The corner of his mouth twitched faintly.
Lancelot struggled to rise, studying the black armor covering his body beneath a beige robe in the mirror-like reflection.
The robe draped over him, making him seem less like an iron giant built from ceramite and more like a hermit.
Yet through the gaps in the robe, the armor plates faintly visible underneath showed that the original Legion markings had been ground away, leaving only a pitch-black darkness behind.
During this process, his modified third lung expanded to its limit, driving two monster-like hearts into thunderous motion and sending surging heat through every limb and bone.
Even so, Lancelot felt a bone-deep chill crawl through his entire body.
He was finished.
He had almost forgotten.
The paint scheme he used in-game was actually Fallen Angel!
He had never imagined that after transmigrating, he would bring the game’s paint scheme along with him.
This one little detail left Lancelot completely numb.
Transmigration was supposed to be something that existed in dreams.
Some people transmigrated to Azur Lane and lived a shamelessly comfortable life as a Commander.
Some transmigrated to ancient times and relied on modern knowledge to climb the tech tree and accomplish great things.
But transmigrating to Warhammer 40K…
That was basically no different from transmigrating onto a tiny boat sailing across a cesspit.
This thing was a space opera IP created by GW, a super cesspit built by all kinds of races under the main theme of war.
Every flavor of maniac took turns stepping onto the stage, and the only constant in the galaxy was eternal war.
The entities churning within the realm of the mind constantly tempted beings in the material world to fall into Chaos.
They were the evil gods born from this cesspit, using every possible method to drag people off the little boat and into the filth.
And now, Lancelot only felt that his own situation was terrifyingly unstable.
“Fuuuuuck!
Why did I have to get handsy back then and decide the Fallen Angel paint scheme looked cool?
If I’d picked Ultramarines, none of this would’ve happened!”
Lancelot let out a wail.
Even as a casual Warhammer fan who only played the games and watched lore videos, he understood perfectly well that his current identity had dug him one hell of a pit.
Because he was a Fallen Angel.
They had originally belonged to the mightiest First Legion of the Imperium of Man.
As the first Astartes Legion created by the Emperor, they were the embodiment of loyalty itself.
But even the most perfect existence could develop flaws.
During the Horus Heresy, due to the corruption of Chaos, rebellion also broke out within the First Legion.
Under the instigation of the traitor Luther, half of the Dark Angels began to believe that the Emperor intended to destroy Caliban.
In the end, when the Lion arrived on Caliban, that portion of the Dark Angels attacked him.
As the enraged Lion set foot upon his homeworld to slay his treacherous sons, a sudden Warp storm ultimately led to the destruction of Caliban, the homeworld of the Dark Angels.
Afterward, to cover up the betrayal, the Dark Angels Chapter chose to call all Dark Angels who had vanished in that storm the Fallen.
From that point onward, the Dark Angels swore an oath within their ranks: as long as even one Fallen Angel remained alive and unrepentant, the Dark Angels would be the Unforgiven.
If you told the Dark Angels that their homeworld had blown up, they might not react at all.
But if you told them there was a Fallen Angel hidden deep within a star, they would snuff out that star in the cruelest way possible and drag that Fallen out.
Then, once the Fallen landed in their hands, every cruel method you could imagine might be used by those lunatics.
Death would be mercy.
Most Fallen would be locked in lightless chambers deep within a Blackstone Fortress, repenting through a lifetime of torment.
No way.
Anything but that.
Lancelot’s face was filled with despair.
Even retiring to some backwater world and living quietly was impossible.
This three-meter-tall body no longer belonged to the realm of ordinary mortals.
Even if he tried disguising himself as one of those heavy laborers, the light, agile gait of a Dark Angel would not be easy to hide.
As an Astartes, a superhuman warrior who had undergone nineteen implant surgeries, he could originally be considered at least somewhat combat-capable.
But in the current situation, if he dared to display even a little Astartes strength and those Dark Angels found out, they would absolutely drop everything they were doing and surround him, a Fallen Angel who knew their secrets.
And the most ridiculous part was that he was also a transmigrator.
He really did know about all the Dark Angels’ messed-up business!
As he thought this, Lancelot’s mind abruptly became active.
Yet at that exact moment, a cold mechanical voice suddenly rang out inside his head.
…
[Secret recorded: Fallen Angel.]
[Secrecy Level: Level Two, Occult.]
[Description: The loyal First Legion did, in truth, once suffer an internal rebellion.
As a Dark Angel, you witnessed the destruction of your homeworld.]
[Reward: Bearing of a Veteran of Ten Thousand Wars]
[Combat Score: +20]
[Current Combat Score: 80]
…
“What the hell?!
Don’t do this to me, you blue little bird!
I’m scared!
Lord Emperor, save me!”
Hearing the voice that suddenly surged inside his head, Lancelot’s face instantly went pale.
If one had to choose the most despair-inducing Chaos God in the Warhammer universe, it would unquestionably be the blue little bird Lancelot had mentioned: the famed God of Change, Tzeentch.
Whether it was the bloodthirsty and murderous God of Khorne, the indulgent and pleasure-seeking God of Slaanesh, or the rotten and deathless God of Nurgle, the harm they did to the Imperium of Man was nowhere near as deep and unforgettable as that of the God of Change.
It was the Chaos God of knowledge.
Its existence had almost completely sealed off humanity’s technological progress.
At the same time, it was also the Chaos God of schemes.
It had practically arranged the entire universe’s disorder and endless war with its own hands.
Even Primarch Magnus became, under its schemes, the blade that killed humanity’s future.
One could say that any so-called gift might be the handiwork of the God of Change.
After all, back then, in order to win Magnus’s trust, the Changeling had really managed to find a little spirit friendly to humanity within that maliciously churning Warp, a place that could only be described as an ocean of filth rising to the heavens.
With such precedent before him, Lancelot was extremely wary of the voice that had suddenly appeared in his mind.
However, as an ordinary person, there was nothing he could do if an evil god had set its sights on him.
He could only place his hopes in the Emperor’s might.
But after shouting, nothing happened.
While Lancelot was still wondering what exactly that thing had been, a panel suddenly popped up in front of his eyes.
As the panel opened, a vast amount of information surfaced in Lancelot’s mind.
His original fear and confusion were gradually washed away by that information, and calm returned to him.
The panel itself was extremely simple.
It had only five categories:
Level One: Silent.
Level Two: Occult.
Level Three: Confidential.
Level Four: Top Secret.
Level Five: Ultra.
These categories recorded the secrets Lancelot knew.
The secrets were arranged according to the possible impact they might cause.
Once each secret was recorded, it could provide Lancelot with assistance.
If a secret was leaked from his own mouth, however, his combat score would be deducted.
So, in a sense, he also had to preserve secrets like the Dark Angels?
But in his case, it only counted as a leak if he said it himself.
Even if someone else guessed the truth, as long as he kept denying it hard enough, his combat score would not be deducted.
Lancelot’s superhuman brain spun rapidly, but he was still deeply uneasy because of his identity as a Fallen Angel.
No.
He had to calm down.
The problem of being a Fallen Angel could be divided into two periods: before the Lion’s slumber ended, and after the Lion’s return.
After the Lion returned, he issued the Edict of the Risen.
All Fallen who had not truly fallen, had not joined Chaos, and remained loyal to the Emperor and Caliban would be pardoned and allowed to return to the Legion.
As for his current paint scheme, although it had no Imperial markings, at least it did not have any symbols of Chaos either.
If he got caught one day, could he tell those sons of the Lion that the Lion was actually sleeping beneath the Rock?
Maybe that would even count as atonement through merit.
Besides, if the Lion returned earlier, it would also be an enormous benefit to the Imperium of Man.
This thought flashed through Lancelot’s mind.
He had not expected that this idea would also trigger the Keeper of Secrets System.
…
[Secret recorded: The Lion’s Sleeping Place.]
[Secrecy Level: Level Three, Confidential.]
[Description: As a Fallen Angel, you know where the Lion sleeps.
As a son of the Lion, you have a duty to awaken the unconscious Lion protected by the Watchers in the Dark.]
[Reward: The Emperor’s Primordial Blood]
[Combat Score: +10]
[Current Combat Score: 90]
…
When all this information was fully received by Lancelot’s current superhuman brain, he could not help gently reaching forward.
With a thought, a quartz vial wrapped in golden inscriptions appeared in his hand.
The crimson blood inside seemed to radiate specks of golden light.
It looked like the Philosopher’s Stone from ancient legends, the kind said to turn base metal into gold.
Even though it was almost impossible for this modified hand of Lancelot’s to tremble, the moment that vial of blood appeared in his palm, Lancelot could feel the genes throughout his entire body shudder.
A thought flashed through Lancelot’s mind like lightning.
If this was real… then even if it was a scheme by that big blue bird, he would accept it.
Because what had appeared in his hand right now…
Was something completely beyond all normal limits.
The Emperor himself!
The God-Emperor’s own blood!