This is Our Warhammer Journey

Clang~ Clang~ Clang~

On the way to the Navigator's Sanctum, the atmosphere was unusually quiet.

Arthur silently cleaved his way through enemies at the front of the squad, while Romulus followed behind, half-heartedly firing sporadic bolter bursts in formulaic intervals—his mind clearly elsewhere.

Just moments ago, he had spent a massive chunk of the points he'd suddenly acquired to summon reinforcements, deploying troops to help the Astra Militarum hold critical chokepoints across the cruiser.

Crunch—

With one strike, Arthur split open a greenskin, then raised a boot and crushed a goblin who had been sneakily trying to run off clutching a Warboss's tooth. He noticed that apart from the Imperial Guard stationed at defensive nodes, there were far fewer living things moving about.

Be they xenos or humans, in this resupply-less, chaotic region of the Warp, all had spilled their last drop of blood in the ongoing brawl. Nothing was left but death.

"Arthur, are you okay?"

Romulus, still micromanaging the many Ultramarines cleansing various decks, looked at Arthur with concern.

Something had been off about him ever since they took down that Chaos Space Marine.

"I'm fine," Arthur said, shaking his head and tightening his grip on his sword.

"Just… frustrated."

Cypheris Gage—despite facing relentless onslaughts and dragging his damaged power pack behind him—had still managed to reclaim sixteen gene-seeds from the hands of dishonorable Chaos heretics.

Such a tenacious warrior, and he'd just died right there in front of him. Arthur, who had been deeply moved by such heroic figures due to his upbringing, found it impossible to come to terms with.

"Don't worry—he surely returned to the Golden Throne. The Warp is Big E's turf, after all."

Romulus, by contrast, was far calmer.

Or perhaps, even before meeting Arthur, he had already endured his own cultural shock unique to the grimdark of Warhammer 40k.

"But even the Emperor isn't omnipotent in the Warp…" Arthur replied bitterly.

If the Emperor truly could shield his warriors, then this Warp-born assault would never have happened.

Had it not been for their intervention, that warrior and the gene-seeds he'd been protecting would have become offerings to the Warp—never able to reach their revered Emperor.

A classic case of no good deed goes unpunished: a man fights to the death for humanity, only to end up tortured by the Ruinous Powers.

"Yeah..."

Romulus finally let out a sigh too.

After all, besides the Emperor, the Warp was home to four giant piles of filth.

"Forget it, let's drop the topic—it's just getting me angrier."

Arthur shook his head, flinging the negativity from his mind.

"By the way, doesn't chatting while micromanaging stress your brain?"

"It's fine," Romulus said casually. "So far, my brain can handle it."

"Besides, you know how it is. Back in the day, I always ran dual clients when we gamed."

"You're nuts," Arthur said, giving him a thumbs-up despite himself. Even now, with his enhanced mind, his thinking remained single-threaded—he just wasn't built for multitasking.

"Hmph."

Romulus shrugged, accepting the compliment with a hint of pride. Then Arthur tossed him another question:

"So, once we get out—what's next?"

"You planning to return the gene-seeds?"

Romulus, of course, already knew what his best bro was thinking.

"Yeah."

Arthur nodded firmly.

"I made a promise, and I intend to keep it."

"True."

Romulus also nodded in approval.

Not only did their personal code of honor forbid them from betraying the wishes of such a great warrior, but Arthur had sworn to the Emperor. There was no backing out now.

Because in the Warhammer 40k universe, gods actually existed. If you swear to one of those old psychic warlords and then break your oath, who knows—next time you attempt a Warp jump, you might step with your left foot first and get spat out into some cursed dimensional pothole.

No matter how much the Emperor himself claimed he wasn't a god, the truth was: faith in Him worked.

Romulus suspected they were probably minor Warp deities themselves—if not, at least heavily infused with "that good stuff," making them virtually immune to the other Warp powers.

Still, educated as they were—and unlike the four piles of Warp excrement—they did have a sense of moral obligation.

"Let's talk it over with the other two once we find them," Romulus said. "We can share intel and figure out our next steps together."

Through the shared vision of the Ultramarines, Romulus could see heavily mutated Astra Militarum soldiers begging demigods to grant them a glorious death.

"..."

Romulus fell into a moment of silence.

And so, burdened with their own thoughts, the two of them made their way to the Navigator's Sanctum—where they were greeted by a Blood Angel slouching drowsily, his head bowed.

"Yo, you guys made it."

Compared to his manic first appearance, this version of Karnar now looked rather laid-back—so laid-back, in fact, his voice practically oozed off the screen with laziness.

"Ah, we fixed the Gellar Field," Romulus said as they waved a greeting. "Now it's just up to Ramses to get the ship moving."

"Well, get in then. With you guys here, maybe you can help him brainstorm a way out."

Karnar stepped aside to let them in. Once the two had entered, he fell into position at the rear of the group.

BZZZZZZ~~

The moment they stepped through the door, their eyes were hit with a blinding white light.

The sudden change in brightness didn't faze their enhanced vision—within moments, their pupils adjusted, letting Arthur take in the full scene inside the sanctum.

A floor littered with twisted corpses. Blood and metallic dust scattered like paint from a spilled can kicked over by some mischievous child.

In the Navigator's seat floated a crimson-armored terminator—a Crimson Knight suspended in mid-air.

"A Thousand Son?" Arthur blurted, surprised.

He'd thought that aside from their own Second Empire duo, the rest would be loyalists.

"Ramses never played Space Marines. His tabletop army was Thousand Sons, so his subconscious probably modeled this appearance off the chapter he liked."

Romulus offered his theory.

"Dragged him into our game once, and he actually ended up getting isekai'd for real," Karnar added, clicking his tongue.

"He cried the hardest out of all of us when he landed here—ah, Arthur wouldn't know that."

"Yeah, he was busy cleaving through monsters when I found him," Romulus explained with a chuckle. "And honestly, I've always admired how hardcore this guy is."

Don't be fooled by his usual quiet demeanor—when he loses it, he settles things with his fists. In elementary school, he once beat up a bunch of kids who ripped up his homework so badly they were crying for their moms.

"...Old Tzeentch would probably love you," Karnar said with a grin.

"Romulus just said the same thing."

Arthur ignored the banter and asked, "What about you?"

"I've come to terms with it. Instead of burning out from internal strife, I decided to enjoy the ride."

"You're surprisingly laid-back about it."

"I can black out and let Black Rage take the wheel whenever I want, so I get a lot of thinking time."

"..."

The three of them chatted casually for a while, then turned their attention to Ramses—still floating in mid-air, pulsing like a giant light bulb.

At this point, nearly everything on the ship was dead. The Gellar Field was stabilized, the Chaos Space Marines that infiltrated during the ritual were eliminated, and the ship's core zones were secure.

Everything that needed doing… was done.

Now it all came down to whether their buddy could get them out of the Warp.

"KWAH!!!"

Just as the trio silently waited, Ramses—who'd been quietly guiding the cruiser through the Warp—suddenly convulsed like a drowning fish.

And with that came a tremor that rippled through the entire vessel.

"?"

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