A rough steel gun barrel rested against Leon Drake’s forehead.
Cold.
It carried the faint scent of rust that had never been properly cleaned away.
His eyes slowly opened.
A pungent mixture of engine oil and fertilizer dust rushed into his nose, making his stomach churn.
“Urgh…” He gagged twice but brought up nothing.
Mud mixed with foul-smelling grime clung to his face, while a pile of discarded gears dug painfully into his back.
A woman stood before him.
She leaned against the rusted tracks of an abandoned harvester, dressed in battered black carapace armor.
A massive wound tore through the center of her chest plate.
The edges were charred black from intense heat, and blood streamed steadily down the armor, forming a crimson puddle at her feet.
The weapon in her hands was enormous.
Far too large to belong to an ordinary human.
Its muzzle remained firmly pressed against Leon’s forehead.
“Identification.” Her voice was dry and raspy, every word tinged with the taste of blood.
“Unit designation.” She paused.
Her thumb settled over the hammer.
“Or tell me the name of your heretical cult.” Leon frowned.
His head throbbed.
His first thought was simple.
Something was very, very wrong.
He lowered his eyes to his hands.
They were still his own.
Soft.
The hands of someone who had never done hard labor.
Yet he was wearing a filthy set of oversized work clothes.
He looked back at the woman’s massive firearm…
Then at her black armor.
Warhammer 40,000?
He wasn’t a lore fanatic.
He mostly played games and watched the occasional video.
Still, the name surfaced in his mind almost immediately.
The woman was almost certainly part of the Imperium.
And in a place like this…
Being mistaken for a heretic by the Imperium usually meant your funeral was already being planned.
Leon slowly raised both hands, palms outward.
“Easy, ma’am.” “I woke up in this scrapyard.
I don’t even know how I got here.” “You asked for an identification number.” “I honestly don’t have one.” She remained unmoved.
The gun followed his slightest movement.
“Heretics excel at deception.” “I am Helena.” “Arbitrator of the Adeptus Arbites.” Her finger tightened slightly.
“This is your final chance.” “State your Hive identification code.” “Or the name of your cult.” Click.
The hammer locked into place.
Every hair on Leon’s body stood on end.
He had no doubt she would fire.
Yet something else caught his attention.
She wasn’t in good condition.
The wound across her chest was far too severe.
Blood wasn’t merely seeping out.
It poured steadily down her armor.
Even the hand gripping the pistol trembled, though she fought to hide it.
She wasn’t sparing him out of mercy.
She simply didn’t have much strength left.
Just as Leon searched desperately for a way to buy more time…
A calm, emotionless female voice echoed inside his mind.
[System self-diagnostic complete.] [StarCraft Commander System successfully bound.] [Commander, welcome back.] [Adjutant Ada is now online.] Leon froze.
That wasn’t his imagination.
He knew that voice.
He knew it far too well.
“Ada?” he asked silently.
[Online.] [Current coordinates: Unknown.] [Vital signs stable.] [Warning: Hostile environment detected.] [Atmospheric contamination severe.] [Unknown high-frequency energy signature detected.] [Local designation: The Warp.] [Native carbon-based xeno lifeforms approaching rapidly.] Leon felt his heart sink.
The Warp.
Xenos.
So this wasn’t some elaborate cosplay after all.
“Forget the air quality report.” he thought urgently.
“There’s a gun pointed at my head.” “Can you warp in a squad of Marines first?” [Request denied.] [Current resources:] Minerals: 200 Vespene Gas: 0 [Command Center not established.] [Insufficient infrastructure to deploy Marines.] Leon glanced around at the mountains of rusted scrap.
“Isn’t all this metal?” “Can’t you just convert it into resources?” [Unable to comply.] [Native scrap metal must be physically recovered by an SCV.] [Resource processing network has not yet been established.] Leon clenched his jaw.
“What about the starter pack?” [Starter package delivered.] [Passive ability unlocked:] Norn Suppressant Genetic Lock activated.
[Starting unit awarded:] SCV ×1 [Warning:] Commander possesses one Beginner Emergency Warp authorization.
This privilege may only be used at this time.
Afterward, all units and structures must be produced through standard construction procedures.
Leon’s expression stiffened.
“So my starting combat unit…” “…is a mining vehicle?” [Correction.] [SCV classified as Heavy Industrial Unit.] Equipped with Plasma Cutting Torch.
Heavy Power Drill.
Neo-Steel Composite Armor.
Combat assessment: Superior against current low-level carbon-based xenos.