"NAZARETH HENSHAW! Get your arse down here right this instant!"
A screech of anger mixed with disappointment came from below.
A deformation beneath the bedding stirred. Again, a belch of anger echoed from downstairs — "NAZARETH!"
Once more, the bedding swirled — this time with more agile and annoyed pulls and pushes.
A series of rapid thumps grew louder and louder until all became quiet…
BANG!
An oak door of sturdy make slammed open, and standing in the doorway was a woman no older than forty, peering into the dilapidated room. Disgust washed over her face as she shouted again, her voice sharp with anger.
"Naz, this is the third time I've yelled for you! This room is disgusting! Why haven't you cleaned it? Are you even listening to me?"
From beneath the bedding, the form of a fourteen-year-old boy peered up at her in annoyance.
"Mom, just leave it. I said I'd clean it, but I just haven't gotten the chance."
The tone of annoyance was clear.
"Nazareth, I know you're annoyed. However, you can't be locked up in this room all day doing nothing. Your father's loss was massive — not only for you."
The bedding shot up as Nazareth locked eyes with his mother and yelled
"You have no idea what I lost!"
Silence fell as they glared at one another, until finally a sigh escaped the woman. A downtrodden look crossed her face as she replied
"Look… I've lost a husband, and I won't let you rot in this room becoming some emo, sad fuck."
Once again, silence. Neither spoke. With an annoyed sigh, the woman turned on her heel and began to leave the room, muttering irritably
"Fine, have it your way. If you want to sulk and become a loner, go ahead. I'm not going to stop you."
With that, the door closed, and Nazareth delved back under his covers.
A quiet, almost imperceptible snivel came from the mass of linen. As the covers were pulled back, his prominent silver hair glistened in the light. Streams of tears and snot covered his face as he wiped them away with his sleeve and the blanket.
Silence dominated the room until, in a low, broken voice, a quivering sound emerged:
"I miss you, Dad…"
Then, quieter still:
"I wish I was born again… in a world of my choosing — not this crap."
Nazareth's eyes drifted around his room. Every corner was covered in posters — dragons, wizards casting spells, and a poster of a Kriegman with the slogan "Enlist in the Astra Militarum Today!" Underneath hung another — a hand-drawn picture of a man and a child holding hands, firing magic and a bolter at little grey aliens.
As he moved, Nazareth reached up and gently pulled the drawing from the wall. He stared at it like treasure, then flipped the partially torn card over. In blue crayon, messy but heartfelt words read:
"Naz, you little rascal. You're too young now, but if you're ever in trouble, don't push people away. You've always done it as a kid, and I know if I were to die, you'd undoubtedly blame yourself. But remember, son, I will always be with you — just like Drogon. Gone for a while, but always came back.
Son, always remember //The Emperor Protects// "
Tears stained the paper as Naz began to sob uncontrollably, his red-tinged irises swelling with emotion. His mouth opened — but before a sound escaped, a sharp, indescribable pain shot through his chest.
Nazareth's eyes darted wildly. His arms went limp, his legs lost feeling, and he slumped to the floor. Everything in his vision turned black.
A feeling of weightlessness consumed him. His eyes flicked left and right as a faint, pitying voice echoed from behind:
"Tut-tut-tut. What a pity… another soul lost."
Nazareth tried to turn — but when he looked down, he saw no body. Only a hazy outline of arms and fingers dissolving away. He tried to scream, but no sound came out.
Then, an ethereal, godly voice reverberated around him:
"Now, now, no need to panic. You're simply in transition to your new universe."
Nazareth turned toward the voice but saw nothing. His mind filled with questions — anger, fear, confusion:
"What have you done to me?"
"What about my family? My mom?"
All met with silence.
Before he could think further, a warm, almost parental feeling enveloped him.
"Nazareth Henshaw," the voice spoke again, "what is happening to you is an incredible thing! There is no need to turn savage. You have been selected — among trillions — by the Greater Will to rebalance the sorrow of your previous life. You will be reborn."
Shock overwhelmed him, but the warmth deepened, soothing the panic.
A question formed in his mind — yet before he could voice it, the entity continued
"Nazareth, your previous life will be forgotten. You shall be reborn in a greater body — and, with luck, in a world of your choosing."
Weightlessness gave way to a downward pull, as though gravity returned. The voice spoke once more
"Nazareth, by the Greater Will, we wish you the very best of luck in your new life."
The void spun violently. The pull grew stronger — and then came the sensation of falling. Nazareth tried to scream, but no sound escaped.
✦ The Imperium ✦
Holy Terra — 791.M30
Location: Gene-Lab, Himalayan Mountains
Nazareth's consciousness stirred. He awoke to a feeling of weightlessness — but this time, he could see.
He saw his own body — a baby, surrounded by tubes and mechanical wires. A greenish fluid enveloped him.
The echo of steel striking steel rang out as an ancient man peered into the bio-tank. A faint "hmm" escaped his lips as the flaming eagle atop his sceptre shimmered with golden and white fire.
Behind him stood a golden-armoured giant, towering over all at over four meters tall.
"Malcador," the giant intoned, every syllable laced with power.
The sceptre-wielder turned and bowed deeply, forming the Aquila.
"My lord."
He turned back toward the bio-tank.
"This son is awake, friend," Malcador said.
Nazareth looked at the golden figure — and then, an indescribable force pulled him into slumber.
"That is his," the golden being murmured.
Malcador broke the silence.
"My Lord, the Chaos Gods will not allow this breaking of the pact to go unpunished. Erda has begun to move, and—"
"I have seen what will happen," the Emperor interrupted. "The cost is known. Yet this endeavor will benefit us."
With that, both men left — the chamber silent save for the hum of twenty-one bio-tanks, each holding a slumbering child.
Nazareth's consciousness drifted again. He opened his eyes to a vast expanse of light.
"Where… where am I?"
Then realization struck. Memories flooded back, and he screamed mentally:
"Holy shit — that was the Emperor and Malcador! Wait— I've been reincarnated into Warhammer?!"
Before he could panic further, glowing text appeared before his eyes:
Congratulations, Soul #546811541257789!
You have been selected to receive the Manufactory Integrated Cognitive Helper (M.I.C.H.).
M.I.C.H. is a system that allows you to construct factories capable of producing anything — from a simple handsaw to planet-spanning warship!
Nazareth's eyes widened in disbelief.
"I… I can't believe this."
More text followed:
As an operative of the Greater Will, M.I.C.H. will assist you in every way. Do not worry — even within this universe, M.I.C.H. provides measures against the common enemy referred to by natives as the Warp.
Excitement overwhelmed him. Then he remembered the being's words — about choosing a world.
Greetings, Soul #546811541257789.
You are correct — you may select a corresponding world to begin your new life, as granted by your rebirth into this universe.
Nazareth began to think: Cadia? Terra? But before he could decide, another prompt appeared before him.
He stared at it for what felt like forever before speaking:
"You can call me Naz — not all those numbers, okay?"
Prompt Detected:
Designate Soul as 'Naz'?
✅ Confirm
Confirmed.
Dear Naz, due to system limitations, you may choose from the following worlds:
-Narnia
-The Hunger Games
-A Game of Thrones
-Terminator
-Harry Potter
Please choose one.
Naz weighed the pros and cons of each — their dangers, their connection (if any) to the Emperor's grimdark realm — before finally selecting:
A Game of Thrones.
A new message appeared:
You have selected: A Game of Thrones.
Please confirm or deny.
⚠️ Warning: Once confirmed, you cannot return to this point!
Naz hesitated, then clicked Confirm.
He waited… but nothing happened. Silence.
He looked around the endless void — and wondered if he was trapped.