The first thing Sung Jin-Woo noticed was the smell.
It wasn't the clean scent of Seoul after a spring rain, nor the sterile quiet of his bedroom. It was a thick, coppery stench of old blood, mixed with the acrid bite of chemical smoke and something else… something foully organic, like a butcher's shop left to rot under a sweltering sun.
One moment, he had been enjoying a rare moment of peace, the warmth of a coffee cup in his hand. The next, a violent, soundless tear in reality had pulled him through. There had been no resistance. For a being like him, who held the very fabric of space and time as a personal domain, to be transported against his will was… impossible.
And yet, here he was.
His feet rested on the scorched peak of a jagged, metallic mountain. Below him, a war was raging.
It was a primitive, brutal affair. A tide of guttural green-skinned creatures, hulking and monstrous, crashed against a line of humans clad in drab green armor. The humans fought with weapons that spat red bolts of light, their technology a strange mix of advanced energy principles and crude, blocky designs. The green-skins, on the other hand, wielded axes that looked like sharpened scrap metal and guns that belched deafening volleys of solid slugs.
'No mana,' he thought, extending his senses. The world was devoid of the familiar energy that had once defined his existence. But there was something else. A chaotic, violent psychic static emanated from the green creatures, a raw emotion so powerful it seemed to bend reality around them. And from the humans, a desperate, terrified prayer to some distant emperor, a psychic whimper in the dark. This universe operated on different laws.
He watched, a silent observer on his perch. The human lines buckled. A particularly large green-skin, adorned with a crude metal jaw and a massive power claw, tore through a barricade, swatting soldiers aside like flies. Their screams were short, cut off by the brutal efficiency of the slaughter.
It was none of his concern. His priority was to understand where he was and how to return. Intervening in the squabbles of natives was a waste of time.
Then, a stray artillery shell, fired from the human lines, sailed past its target and arced directly towards his position. It was a clumsy, unguided piece of ordnance, an insignificant threat. He could have blinked out of existence, letting it harmlessly impact the rock behind him.
But the sheer audacity of it annoyed him.
He raised a hand, and his power, the authority of the Absolute Being, coalesced.
[Command: Ruler's Authority]
The shell stopped dead in the air, its momentum utterly negated. He held it there for a moment, a silent testament to his presence, before crushing it into a compact ball of twisted metal. He let the metal sphere drop to the ground with a dull thud.
Down below, the battle paused. A few soldiers, both human and green-skin, had noticed the impossible event. Their gazes turned upward, searching for the source of the anomaly. They saw him, a lone figure clad in simple black, standing against the sickly, rust-colored sky.
The giant green-skin with the power claw saw him too. In its simple, brutal mind, a new, exciting thought formed: a new challenge, a bigger fight. It pointed its weapon in the Monarch's direction and let out a bellowing roar that it felt in its bones. It was a challenge. A declaration of war.
'So noisy,' Jin-Woo thought with a sigh. It seemed a peaceful resolution was not an option.
His body flickered.
Before the creature could finish its roar, he was standing before it. Its singular, red eye widened in shock. The din of the battlefield seemed to fade into a dull hum. In the primitive mind of the beast, terror bloomed—the sudden realization that it was not facing a man, but a predator of a wholly different scale.
The Monarch's hand, glowing with a faint, dark aura, rested on its chest.
"Be quiet," he said.
Then he pushed. Not with strength, but with pure will. The creature's massive torso simply… imploded. A shockwave of dust and gore erupted from its back, silencing the battlefield for a second time.
Silence reigned. The humans stared, their faces a mask of awe and terror, their faith in the Emperor momentarily forgotten in the face of this impossible, silent figure. The green-skins, after a moment of stunned disbelief, fell into a frenzy. Their chaotic psychic energy spiked. They didn't feel fear. They felt excitement. They had found a bigger, more dangerous opponent.
They charged. Hundreds of them, a wave of green muscle and jagged metal.
A faint smile touched Jin-Woo's lips. In his old world, there were no enemies left to fight. Perhaps this was a small mercy. A chance to stretch his muscles.
"My soldiers have grown idle," he murmured to himself. "They crave the scent of battle."
He raised his hand, the shadows at his feet writhing like living things. This world may not have mana, but death was a universal constant. And where there was death, there was a shadow to be claimed.
His voice, imbued with the absolute authority of the Monarch of Death, echoed across the field. It was not a shout, but a command that burrowed into the soul of every living thing.
[Command: Arise]
From the corpse of the giant green-skin, a pillar of inky black shadow erupted. It solidified, taking the form of the beast it once was, but larger, wreathed in black smoke, its eyes glowing with a menacing, violet light. Then, from the hundreds of other bodies littering the battlefield—both human and green-skin—more shadows began to rise.
The terrified humans in drab armor fell back, their minds reeling. They screamed words he didn't understand, but the intent was clear: "Heresy!" "Sorcery!" "Daemon!"
The new Shadow Ork let out a silent roar, a wave of pure killing intent washing over its living brethren. The charge faltered. The Orks, creatures of pure aggression, felt a new, unfamiliar emotion: primal fear.
Jin-Woo gestured forward. "Go."
His legion of shadows, newly born in this grim, dark reality, crashed into the living. The slaughter was absolute.
As he stood amidst the carnage, absorbing the tide of death into his army, he turned his attention to one of the cowering humans. He was an officer of some kind, his uniform slightly more ornate than the others. Information was needed.
He began to walk towards the man, his shadow soldiers parting before him like a respectful tide. The man scrambled backward, babbling prayers to his Emperor.
But before the Monarch could reach him, a new sound cut through the air. A high-pitched, piercing scream of descending metal.
He looked up.
Several massive metal pods, shaped like armored cocoons, were streaking through the atmosphere, trailing fire. They were aimed directly at his position. They impacted the ground with the force of small meteors, shaking the very bedrock of the world.
A hiss of pneumatics, and the front of the nearest pod blew outwards, forming a ramp.
From within, a giant emerged. It was easily three meters tall, clad in magnificent, cobalt-blue armor adorned with golden trim and the symbol of a stylized omega. It held a weapon that was a work of art, a rifle far more complex and deadly than those the human soldiers carried. Its eyes, visible through the lenses of its helmet, glowed with cold, analytical fury.
It took in the scene—the terrified guardsmen, the dead Orks, and the legion of living shadows—and its gaze finally settled on the lone figure at the center of it all.
A voice, amplified and laced with an authority that vibrated in the air, boomed from the giant's helmet.
"In the name of the Emperor and the glory of Ultramar, I condemn thee, Heretic. Prepare for judgment."
Sung Jin-Woo tilted his head, a flicker of genuine curiosity breaking through his stoicism. These newcomers were different. Stronger. He could feel a disciplined power radiating from them, a stark contrast to the chaos and desperation he had witnessed so far.
His lips curled into a slight smile.
It seemed he had finally found someone worth talking to.