At the instant his consciousness faded, Ron saw the sun. It floated in the void, vast and cold. Praise the sun. Praise God-Emperor of Mankind.
God-Emperor of Mankind gave an answer.
Above the Void, the cold sun forged from the will of God-Emperor of Mankind shone like a star, holy beyond measure. Its light spread evenly, distant and calm, as if nothing could disturb it.
A hum followed as the waves of Psychic Tides expanded outward. Even across endless distance, Ron could feel the surging psychic power pressing against him.
What terrifying might this was. He reacted at once and shouted within his mind, "God-Emperor of Mankind, your loyal servant needs salvation!"
The sun that represented God-Emperor of Mankind did not respond. No gaze fell upon Ron, and the light continued to shine without favor.
Another surge of Psychic Tides struck before he could react, and he was kicked out of the space of consciousness. Everything went dark in an instant.
Ron opened his eyes to see a green plain, with tempting bodies gathered around him. He was still inside Palace of Slaanesh.
A soft thud sounded as an eyeball dropped to the ground. Ron reached for it by reflex.
He quickly realized his eye socket was empty. Panic hit as he stared at the hollow space.
"My eye!" Ron stuffed the eyeball back in, too busy with questions to feel fear.
This made no sense. God-Emperor of Mankind had clearly shown a sign, so why was there no response?
Did the old man think he was not loyal enough. Last-minute faith really was useless, and now he was truly finished.
Above the Void, at the core of Palace of Slaanesh, a vast purple shadow slowly took shape. It was the master of the palace, Slaanesh.
Ron felt both grief and rage, and since death seemed certain, he no longer held back. He stared up with his single eye toward the Void, raised his middle finger, and shouted, "Slaanesh, screw your ancestors!"
The shadow shifted slightly, and its gaze moved in this direction. Wherever that gaze passed, all daemons fell to their knees.
An overwhelming pressure rolled closer, and when the gaze fixed on Ron, the surging corrupt power nearly crushed him at once. Yet the earlier warmth surged again, wrapping him in a faint golden glow.
Space shook violently and tore open a smallRift. That mysterious power resisted Slaanesh and dragged Ron out of Palace of Slaanesh.
Slaanesh paused for a moment, as if surprised. A soft laugh followed, and even greater desire burst forth.
The entire palace trembled with life, plunging into an even more extreme frenzy. Prince of Pleasure remembered that little insect and would personally prepare the most exquisite pleasure for him.
Far away in the distant the Warp and the Void, a tiny sun gave off a warm glow. It hid beneath the radiance of the great cold sun.
Ron screamed as his body and soul felt stretched like noodles. He was spun wildly, then yanked out and slammed into something solid before being stuffed inside.
The sensation faded at last, leaving only dizziness behind. Silence followed.
Segmentum Pacificus, northern Goli Sector, Eris. This was a typical industrial world, its surface covered in deadly pollution and swarming with mutants.
At the center of the continent, Hive City Grant rose into the clouds. Within its mountain-like stacks of metal lived tens of billions of people.
Every breath of air and every drop of water inside the hive had been recycled millions of times. People survived on corpse starch, working day and night while praying for the protection of God-Emperor of Mankind.
Life here was harsh, except for those at the very top. They enjoyed sunlight, fresh air, and clean water, taking everything the planet had to offer.
The most powerful among them was the planetary governor, who held supreme authority over life and death. His word decided all.
In the upper hive, at the spire mansion of the court district, Ron jolted awake with a scream. He lay in a vast bedroom that blended Victorian and steampunk styles, filled with extreme luxury.
He survived. Realizing he was unharmed, Ron let out a long breath.
It must have been God-Emperor of Mankind who saved him. Faith in God-Emperor of Mankind in the Warhammer world truly could save lives.
He decided to keep a book of the Emperor's holy words with him at all times, reading it often and memorizing it if possible. Praise God-Emperor of Mankind.
As his nerves relaxed, Ron finally noticed how unfamiliar the surroundings were. "Where is this place?"
Broken fragments of memory surged in, forcefully merging with his consciousness. They flowed fast and left him no time to resist.
After absorbing them, Ron understood what had happened. The situation was complicated.
The planetary governor of this world, Ron Grant, had been obsessed with drink and lust. While fooling around with a maid in this bedroom, he went too far.
Corrupted by Chaos, he was dragged into Palace of Slaanesh. His already weak body died in terror there.
By coincidence, Ron transmigrated into the dead body of Ron Grant. That was the reason for the dangerous and intense scenes earlier.
Fortunately, under the protection of God-Emperor of Mankind, he escaped. Ron inherited Grant's body and soul memories.
He now had the Grant family's signature black hair and deep eyes. His pale face looked cold, and his whole body seemed weak.
Overall, he looked better than before. The only trouble was that the inherited memories were incomplete.
Many parts were missing or blurred, as if covered by fog. Still, one fact was clear.
Ron was now the planetary governor of the Imperium and ruler of Eris, Ron Grant. That counted as a blessing within misfortune.
Night was deep, and pale red moonlight passed through the balcony's colored glass into the room. Ron suddenly realized something was wrong.
Had he not been fooling around with a maid earlier. Where was the maid now?
"Darling, are you looking for me?" A strange clicking sound came from the darkness, like bones knocking together.
The sound made Ron instantly alert. His heart tightened as he listened.
"Wuwuwu, did you forget about me…" A woman stood facing the wall, her body shaking as she cried.
Before Ron could react, her head snapped around one hundred and eighty degrees and locked onto him. It was a horrifying Slaanesh banshee head, with empty eye sockets, sharp teeth, and a long tongue dripping with slime.
Damn it. Was this thing chasing him here too?
"Why aren't you saying anything, am I not pretty?" The banshee's body twisted and stepped out of the shadows into the moonlight.
Her deformed body was covered in bone spurs, and the black silk maid outfit she wore was torn to shreds. There was no doubt she was the maid, now completely corrupted into a monster.
"Can't wait anymore, darling." She swayed her waist as she climbed onto the bed, making the scene even more disturbing.
Looking down at Ron, she whispered, "Let's have some fun." Ron forced a stiff smile.
"I'm not in good condition today, how about next time?" He tried not to provoke her while quietly pressing the alarm button by the bed.
"But…" her long tongue slid across Ron's face. "I can't wait!"
To hell with this. Ron kicked the banshee away and pulled a small pistol from a hidden compartment, aiming as he pulled the trigger.
"Bang!" Thick smoke burst from the pistol, and the banshee was shot in the chest, falling backward.
Was it over. "It hurts!" The banshee stood up again, staring at Ron with a hoarse voice.
"But I really like it, hit me again!" A perverted banshee, was it.
Ron raised the gun and pulled the trigger again, but no bullet came out. What was going on, was the machine spirit displeased?
He glanced at the ivory-and-gem-inlaid pistol and silently cursed Ron Grant's ancestors. A lunatic.
A single-shot black powder antique pistol, kept as a collection piece. For self-defense, at least get a bolter or a melta weapon.
Ron hurled the pistol at the banshee and took the chance to roll off the bed and run. But this indulgent body was too weak, and he collapsed after only a few steps.