In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war. The Emperor of Mankind wages a constant battle to protect humanity from the horrors of space. On the fringes of the Imperium, alien races lurk and plot, and Chaos Daemons leak into our reality from the torment of the Warp. This is the iconic entry into the brutal universe of Warhammer 40K.
If I knew where I was, I would've offed myself millennia ago.
Those were my thoughts aboard Macragge's Honour—the infamous Gloriana-class battleship and personal flagship of Primarch Roboute Guilliman. Normal people don't monologue like they're speaking to an audience, but living here long enough turns you into Sheogorath's favorite human.
How could someone like me know all this, you might ask? Well, I'm a special case—a reincarnator. Probably the unluckiest one of them all.
I'm Noah Light. The Pioneer of Humanity. Sick title, right? I used to live in the 21st century as an ordinary nerd. Loved fantasy. Wanted to live in one. You know the old saying: Be careful what you wish for. Then I died in an earthquake.
I thought that was it. But it wasn't.
Next thing I knew, I was in a hospital.
But that's enough monologuing—I can hear someone coming.
"Lord Noah, you have been called to the bridge. Please report."
My time has come, I guess, I thought as I made my way to the bridge.
And there they were: the Primarchs Roboute Guilliman and Lion El'Jonson. If this were millennia ago, I would've begged for a sign.
"Are you guys ready, Little Robu?"
Oh, how much he hated that nickname. I could see the Lion smirk. Guilliman looked like he might attack me right there, but his responsibilities as Imperial Regent stopped him.
"Yes, we are, Lord Noah. You?"
"Ready as I'll ever be."
Oh, right—I didn't talk about why I'm here, did I?
I'm about to sacrifice myself for the glory of the Emperor. Considering all the possible fates in the galaxy—especially those involving Chaos—this is a pretty satisfactory one.
Let's get down to business.
From the outer universe, a threat emerged like nothing the Imperium has seen before: a Tyranid Hive Fleet greater than anything recorded. Normally, that would spell the end of our galaxy. But there's a race that hates them even more than the xenophobic Imperium: the Necrons. Don't ask me why.
A temporary alliance was formed between Terra and the Necrons.
The conclusion of that alliance? Essentia Exitium—the greatest bomb ever constructed in the history of the galaxy.
And here I am. I guess my sacrifice is obvious by now.
"Why are you doing this?" a mechanical voice asked from behind me. A Necron. An Overlord, to be specific.
"Doing what, Trazyn? You need to be more specific," I said with a grin.
"Doing all this sacrifice nonsense when you have those things," Trazyn answered. His voice—uncharacteristically—carried emotion.
"I wonder that as well," a soft voice added.
"Ynnead. How pleasant," I said. "It's simple, my old rival. Unlike you, I'm just a man of flesh who is slowly getting older, weaker, and more vulnerable every single day. I hear the whispers of Slaanesh, feel the madness of Khorne, and smell the plagues of Nurgle stronger than ever before. I don't know how much longer I can keep resisting the Warp's corruption—and I won't risk it.
"And don't worry about those things. They're operating as they should. So don't try to take advantage of my sudden absence," I added, pointing to a holographic cube. "The deal is still on the table. You gave that to Robu, and the coordinates will be sent."
"What is that even?" asked Trazyn, ever the curious collector.
"A pet project of mine. Just my will and last words. I was never good at farewells. You can keep it for your museum afterward, if you want."
"And what's stopping me from stealing it right now?" he asked, with a calculating glint in his eye.
"I don't know. Maybe the weapons I hid in your museum."
I saw his mind churning, scanning me for signs of bluff. Even now, this was still a battle—veiled in words, but a battle nonetheless.
"Well played, old friend," he finally said, with a hint of disappointment.
"So, Ynnead," I turned to her, "I understand Trazyn. He always wanted my collection. But why are you here?"
"I want to know what you're really planning, Noah. We both know Essentia Exitium isn't Necron in origin. So what is it really?" asked the Goddess of Death—her avatar, most likely.
"You'll see it soon, Ynnead. Be patient. Just one warning: don't go in there. Now, if you'll excuse me—I have a glorious sacrifice to make."
They left.
After that, I grabbed my backpack—well, technically a sub-dimension the size of a planet, but who cares?
Now it was time for the show.
In the absolute void between galaxies, a Warp portal opened—and a tiny vessel slipped through. An Ork Waaagh and four Hive Fleets followed it like hounds. Yeah—I'm inside that ship. If you think that's a lot of xenos, you'd be right 99.9999% of the time. But not this time.
While I was on the bridge, playing with a golden, glowing syringe, all the major enemies of the Imperium were behind me—just where I wanted them.
In that empty void, my vessel—myself its only crew—was finally caught. Even the Chaos Gods ruptured the Materium to unleash their legions.
They were everywhere.
Suddenly, a golden light erupted from the ship, frightening the void and its inhabitants. It was the light of Order and Logic—the light of the Emperor of Mankind. A power no mortal could wield flared.
Panic spread through the legions.
"ANATHEMA!" the Gods screamed, their voices shaking reality itself. They were here—each with their greatest daemons.
(POV: Me)
"NO! This isn't him! This is a trap!"
"Well, I didn't expect to trick the God of Trickery for long. But it's already over. The plan was a success," I thought as I triggered the bomb.
"Eat the sun, motherf—!"
A blinding light erupted—not just blinding us all, but sealing both the Materium and the Immaterium. I never told you what the core of this bomb was, did I?
50 grams of antimatter, 30 grams of promethium, and a shard of a C'tan.
Yeah. That'll kill gods.
Not permanently, of course. But it should buy Robu and the Lion enough time to clean up the Imperium.
Those were my last thoughts before everything went dark.
Again.
I can see.
It's pitch black, but I know I can see. Strange—last time, that wasn't the case. Floating in the dark, I started spotting tiny sparks of light far away. Slowly, a green glow grew and blinded me once more.
When I opened my eyes, I saw a man sitting on a throne in front of me.
"Where am I? Who are you?"
"We are in Purgatory—the place dividing life and afterlife. I am the Soul Emperor, the one responsible for the dead." He pulled a folder out of thin air. "Now, let's look at you, Mr... Noah Light.
Age: 40,356
Titles: Pioneer of Humanity, Founder of the Federation, Father of Xenology, The Ultimate Inventor, Left Hand of the Emperor, The Destroyer of Gods, The Man Who Lived Twice
World: WHM44-PSN889+
Total Karma: +3,899,949,844..." (still increasing)
"I have to admit, you have quite a record. I knew sending you to 40K was the right choice. But let's take it slowly. This place is beyond time, after all. Any questions, ask them now."
Naturally, I was stunned. But thanks to Magnus, my tolerance for uninvited knowledge is absurdly high.
"So, if I get this right, you're responsible for my reincarnation and know my entire life?"
"Yes."
"Then why? Why did you do it? What did I do to deserve that fate? Why that universe—where being alive is a sin?"
"Because you wanted to help people in need. So I sent you to the place where they needed it most. You wanted to be a genius, so I gave you the best mind your body and soul could hold. It's what you truly wanted, deep down.
Now tell me, Noah—sincerely—do you regret it?"
"Also," he added, "you were born in M2. I didn't tell you to find a way to live 40 millennia."
"Well... doesn't matter now, does it? What happens next?" I asked, resigned. Hard to argue with that logic.
"When a person dies, their deeds—good and bad—are tallied. They're rewarded or punished based on the result. And as you can see, your karma is absurdly high. You can choose your afterlife."
"Can I reincarnate again?" I asked hopefully.
"Not in that universe or its variants, but yes. Think about it. You've got eternity. When you're done, just say 'I'm done.' Now, if you'll excuse me—I have a Lord of the Rings extended marathon. Bye!"
He disappeared, leaving me alone in the room.
Okay. Time to think.
All anime universes are off the table—I can't be nailed to one planet after years of traveling. I need a place where my tech is useful. That leaves Marvel, DC, Doctor Who, and Star Wars.
Doctor Who is out—I'm not dealing with timey-wimey nonsense.
Star Wars? Nah. Too much risk of corruption again.
So... it's between Marvel and DC.
DC needs me more.
"Okay, I'm done."
He reappeared.
"You said you're done?" I nodded.
"Fantastic. What's your decision?"
"I want to reincarnate into the DC Universe."
"DC? Good choice. Now, with all your karma, you can spend it."
He pulled out a calculator.
Where the heck is he pulling these from? Never mind...
"I can spend my karma?"
"Yes, of course you can. Now, I can give you two choices. One: I will make you an omnipotent, god-like being, but you can't leave your universe. Or two: I can spend the majority of your karma, but you will be free. And that's only because DC is a medium universe."
Now that's a decision to make. The rational choice is obvious—but I can feel my inner Ork boyz screaming otherwise. And I never stated I was a rational being.
"I choose option two."
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