Author: Kenthion Celestus
Author's Note
After studying Western storytelling techniques through various sources, I decided to revisit and rewrite my earlier work. This is part of my ongoing learning process—understanding narrative structure, building consistent characters, and applying the show, don't tell principle more effectively.
Writing is a craft that evolves over time, and I hope that with each story I write, I continue to grow and improve. Thank you to all the readers who've chosen to join me on this journey, whether you've been here from the beginning or are just starting now.
I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed the process of rewriting and bringing it back to life.
—Kenthion Celestus
Summary:
"Crossing over" is a nice word, but not everyone is willing to use it.
Especially when it means going to some incredibly dangerous worlds...
But sometimes, it's not you who gets to make the choice.
It's already tragic enough to travel into a universe full of war. But what's even more tragic is discovering that the enemies of mankind from Warhammer, StarCraft, and countless other games all exist in the same universe.
Reuel Kaen Celestus
(bloodied, standing tall amidst the ruins, eyes blazing)
"You self-proclaimed gods... you sons of bitches...
You made one fatal mistake—
You underestimated humanity. And now... you're going to pay for it."
He stared at the symbol of Chaos before him, unflinching. With a voice full of defiance, he spoke directly to the conceptual entities who dared call themselves gods—parasitic beings who thrived on the emotions of the living.
---
Chapter 01 – Crossing Into a New Life
Many people dream of piercing through space and time—wandering into another world, slaughtering anyone in their way, indulging in riches, power, and of course: beautiful women from every race and species.
But not everyone has fantasies like that.
If your life's going fine—or at least stable enough not to make you want to escape reality—what's the point of thinking about moving to another world?
And don't forget about time travel. It sounds cool—until you realize that going back to the past doesn't automatically make you the Emperor of Mankind sitting on a golden toilet, like in Warhammer lore. Not to mention the risk of dying like an idiot because of one dumb mistake. Even in the most cliché isekai novels, plenty of time travelers die before they can even say a word.
The point is: life in your own world might be boring, but at least you know the rules.
Because once you set foot in a world like Warhammer 40K, you'll cry—not just from fear, but from the realization that you've just stepped into hell... with an official license.
They'd cry like toddlers who just lost their lollipop and stubbed their toe—at the same time.
Even with cheats, a system, or a "golden finger," most sane humans would say: "No thanks," if offered a ticket to a universe full of war, demons, and a 97% chance of dying a brutal death.
But... sometimes, it's not you who gets to decide whether to go or not.
---
Reuel Kaen Celestus.
The name says it all: a regular human.
A plain man—utterly ordinary. Thirty years of nonstop work, only to be fired without ceremony. No severance. No thank you. Just silence and a termination letter.
And now, he wakes up.
"Wh... where is this?" he muttered. His vision was still blurry, the strange room greeting him like a nightmare that hadn't ended.
"Ding! Host is awake. System activated. Civilization Development War Points System ready to connect."
The electronic voice echoed in his mind—flat, emotionless, like a GPS voice that's pissed off.
Reuel froze.
"S-System...? I... have a system?" he said, eyes widening.
As someone who'd spent decades reading thousands of novels, watching anime, manga, and finishing hundreds of games—Reuel knew exactly what this meant.
He was no longer just a viewer or a player.
He had a System.
"Ding! Does the host wish to bind the system now?"
"Bind it! Right now!" he shouted enthusiastically.
"Ding! God-Level System Binding in progress: 1%... 5%... 25%... 50%... 75%... 100%..."
"Ding! Binding complete."
Reuel almost jumped for joy. This was real. Not a dream. Not a simulation. And definitely not a prank from the neighbor's wife.
He took a deep breath, stared at the ceiling of whatever planet this room belonged to, and asked:
"What functions do you have, System?"
Certainly. Here's the continuation, translated faithfully into natural, native-level English while keeping structure, tone, and content intact:
---
"Ding! The God-Level System requires the host to check in at designated locations. The host may obtain weapons, items, characters, and other rewards through check-ins."
"This system is designed to assist the host in rebuilding a superdimensional civilization spanning multiple universes, after successfully conquering an entire planet."
"The host may freely travel between worlds, recruit allies, acquire resources, and gradually elevate human civilization to the peak of the multiverse. However, this feature is currently locked. The host must first conquer this planet."
"....."
Reuel fell silent.
Building a civilization? Conquering a planet? I don't even know where I am right now...
He sighed. "Not bad. But, uh... where exactly am I right now?"
"The host is currently in the world of the first Resident Evil movie."
Reuel's eyes shot open. "Shit! Resident Evil?! That's a world full of zombies! And... if I remember right, almost everyone dies!"
His gaze swept across the room as his survival instincts kicked in.
"Can you... change this world?"
"Ding. No."
Reuel let out a short groan. "Okay. At least... is there a mission I have to do?"
"No. The system has no main mission."
He gave a small nod. "That's fine. As long as I can survive."
Then another thought struck him. "By the way... has the main plot of Resident Evil started yet, System?"
"Ding. It will begin in four days."
Four days... Four days before hell breaks loose.
"Would the host like to receive the Beginner's Gift Pack now?"
His eyes lit up. "Take it. Right now!"
"Are you certain? Activating this gift will be... painful."
Reuel paused for a moment, then nodded.
He had no other choice. In a world like this, surviving as an ordinary human wasn't just foolish—it was suicide.
"I'm sure. Open it now."
"Ding! Congratulations to the host for receiving the Beginner's Gift Pack."
"Opening package..."
"Congratulations! The host has acquired the full memories and experiences of the Emperor of Mankind from the Warhammer universe."
"The seed of power has been planted. Growth will occur gradually. Please prepare for the pain."
"The host now possesses knowledge of all languages from every world."
"The host has obtained the Emperor's combat skills and weapon mastery."
"All vehicle-driving abilities have been integrated."
"The host has gained access to the One True Armour, the Emperor's Shield, the Emperor's Sword, and the Emperor's Lightning Claw. However, all items are currently locked. The host's power level is too low."
Reuel's jaw dropped.
Then he let out a quiet laugh, nearly in disbelief.
"Holy shit... my system's amazing."
But as that laughter faded, the full weight of what it meant to possess all the memories and experiences of the Emperor of Mankind hit him—a being of overwhelming might, ruthless resolve, and crushing weariness... who rotted upon a golden throne just to keep humanity alive in the darkest universe ever conceived.
He wanted to ask the system more—
But then the pain hit him like a meteor strike.
His entire body felt like it had been smashed with a psionically reinforced sledgehammer. His muscles convulsed, bones cracked, and every cell felt like it was being forcibly reshaped—as if an invisible hand was rebuilding his body from the inside out.
"AAARRGGHH!! System, you bastard! THIS—THIS IS INSANE!!"
"The host is expected to endure this pain for three days. Failure... will result in death."
"Important note: This is only the planting of the power seed, not the full power of the Emperor. If the full power were implanted at once, your body would spontaneously explode."
"As a future founder of a superdimensional civilization, this is the minimum price to be paid."
"If the host survives, your body will evolve—initially to the level of Captain America. Psionic power is not yet activated. Good luck. If you die, the system will search for a new, more compatible host."
Reuel clenched his teeth, suppressing the scream clawing at his throat. Veins bulged, his body trembled violently, but he refused to fall.
He had lived a life that was almost entirely meaningless.
He had lost his only child.
Betrayed by the woman he married.
Emotionally and financially crucified by the system he trusted.
And in the end—he was murdered by that same woman and her new lover, right after Reuel saved a child from a traffic accident.
Enough.
No more.
My second life will be different.
This time… I will live—to win.
---
Three days had passed.
Reuel slowly opened his eyes. He rose from the bed—or more accurately, the wreckage of the bed, now completely destroyed. The entire room was filled with pungent, dark stains that reeked of metal and dried blood.
He stepped toward the cracked mirror. The figure staring back… was nearly unrecognizable.
His hair had grown long, jet-black with an obsidian-like sheen. His eyes glowed gold, radiating an intensity that could stop anyone's heart. His skin had transformed into a bronze-golden hue, a warm tone reminiscent of noble blood from desert dynasties and Mediterranean shores.
He had grown taller—now standing at 1.8 meters, with a broad chest and upright posture. His muscles were perfectly sculpted, dense and brimming with hidden power. He felt… like he could kill a cow with a single punch.
"System. Use the rest," Reuel said, calm but commanding.
Now he understood.
The abilities he possessed weren't just knowledge or theory—they were instinct. As if his body and soul had been born with this power.
He, Reuel Kaen Celestus, was now:
Master of more than 95% of Earth's languages. Communication? As easy as breathing.
An expert in all weapons—from knives to laser rifles. As though he'd trained for thousands of years.
A hand-to-hand fighter capable of destroying an ordinary man in a single move. His swordsmanship—on par with the world's top masters.
A driver of any vehicle: motorcycles, tanks, fighter jets, even intergalactic void ships.
But the most extraordinary part—he now carried all the knowledge and experience of the Emperor of Mankind, from his childhood on Terra to his ascension as humanity's protector in the grim 41st millennium—imprinted in his mind.
Reuel clenched his fist. His muscles responded flawlessly. Not a single motion wasted.
He didn't feel like he had gained power.
He felt like this... was who he truly was.
---
"Ding. The host may now perform a check-in at Raccoon City. Would you like to proceed?"
Reuel smiled slightly. "Oh? So I'm already in Raccoon City... Is this the starting point of the first movie?"
"Ding. Raccoon City check-in complete. Congratulations, host, you have received the Soldier Module and the Weapon Equipment Module."
Reuel raised an eyebrow. "What do these modules do?"
"The Soldier Module and Weapon Equipment Module allow the host to summon a random number of human soldiers from various factions and to receive monthly military supplies. These can be used discreetly and flexibly."
"Hm... that's it? Alright. Let's give it a try," said Reuel, summoning his first module—without much expectation, just to experiment.
"Ding! Congratulations, host, you have received 10 elite Tempestus Scions from the Warhammer universe. They have been placed into the system's storage."
Reuel froze. His eyes widened.
"…Fuck."
A wide grin spread across his face.
Tempestus Scions. Elite soldiers of the Astra Militarum. Disciplined, ruthless, trained to survive the most brutal battlefields in the galaxy.
"Now we're talking."
"Suggestion: the host should proceed to activate the Weapon and Equipment Module."
"Proceed," Reuel said firmly.
"Ding! Congratulations, host, you have received 4,000 units of military equipment. This includes 200 sets of U.S. special forces gear, along with weapons, ammunition, armored vehicles, and light combat aircraft from the Astra Militarum. All items have been stored in the system warehouse."
Reuel let out a short sigh—not from stress, but from awe.
"So… this is what I get as a 'beginner.' Fascinating."
He opened the system warehouse compartment—and inside, hundreds of weapons, munitions, combat suits, and vehicle schematics were neatly organized in virtual dimensional slots. All ready to deploy.
"System, can I store these items within the system space?"
"Yes. The host may freely store, summon, and manage all items."
Reuel closed the compartment.
"No more playing around," he muttered. "I've wasted enough time."
Time to move.
"Now... let's pay a visit to Alice's mansion."
----
Tempestus Scion

Tempestus Scions (singular: Tempestus Scion), known in Low Gothic as Storm Troopers, are elite special forces units of the Astra Militarum and the Inquisition. Formally, they fall under a sub-division of the Adeptus Administratum known as the Militarum Tempestus.
Trained from a young age under the brutal discipline of the Schola Progenium, Storm Troopers are the most disciplined and expertly trained soldiers to ever serve within the ranks of the Imperial Guard. They are not mere soldiers—they are living war machines.
Armed with signature weapons like the Hot-shot Lasgun and Hellpistol, Scions assault the enemy's strongholds with deadly precision and speed. Their accuracy is enhanced by the Helm Omnishield's integrated targeting systems, built into their Carapace Armour—a heavy protective shell that shields them from return fire.
Outfitted with the finest technology available from the Departmento Munitorum's arsenals, Tempestus Scions are deployed for missions far beyond the capabilities of regular Guardsmen. Armed reconnaissance, infiltration, sabotage, orbital assault, and rapid aerial deployment are just a handful of the high-risk operations they routinely execute.
They are the backbone of the Imperial Guard's elite strike force—each one a symbol of physical perfection and moral purity, forged not by fate but by ruthless discipline and conditioning that surpass human limits.
Tempestus Scions are cold-blooded, efficient killers. Their overwhelming firepower can turn enemy front lines into corpse fields. They undergo intense mental and physical indoctrination at the Schola Progenium, without the aid of augmentations or chemical boosters, shaping them into pure warriors fanatically loyal to the Emperor's will.
Their loyalty to the Emperor is absolute. As such, the Imperial High Command relies on the Scions as a flexible strike force that is nearly impossible to bribe or sway. Whether deployed from armored Chimeras or dropped from the sky via Grav-Chutes, they are the spearpoint of the Astra Militarum's war machine.
Each squad of Tempestus Scions is composed of hardened veterans outfitted to the teeth. Clad in Carapace Armour forged from armaplas and reinforced ceramite plates, they wield high-powered advanced weaponry engineered for high-precision shock operations. Their discipline ensures their firepower can be directed with lethal efficiency at the most critical moment.
Unlike standard Astra Militarum troops, Scions undergo uncompromising, extreme training. Only those with true grit, skill, and unshakable willpower make it through to join these elite ranks.
Their standard weapon, the Hot-shot Lasgun, is equipped with high-powered external cells capable of penetrating armor that regular lasguns can't scratch. Against heavy infantry, Scions use the Hot-shot Volley Gun—an automatic, high-output rifle designed to annihilate Heretic Astartes and xenos monstrosities with brutal efficiency.
---
Tempestus Scions' Wargear
The wargear used by Tempestus Scions far exceeds the utilitarian standards of regular Astra Militarum forces. Every piece of their equipment is a product of rigorous selection and discipline-bound training by the Departmento Munitorum. In fact, a Schola Tempestus cadet is not permitted to touch a Hot-shot Lasgun in the field until passing a gauntlet of competency tests and earning formal honors.
As a mark of distinction and capability, each time a Scion masters a piece of wargear, the icon of that equipment is permanently branded onto his chest. Once fully equipped, a single Scion can operate in extreme environments for weeks without logistical support.
---
Protective & Support Equipment
Carapace Armour
The signature full-body combat armor of the Scions, made from a composite blend of armaplas, ceramite, and high-resistance materials. Offers maximum protection from small arms and shrapnel. Unlike the Flak Armour used by regular Guardsmen, the Scions' version provides full-body coverage, optimized for both defense and mobility.
Helm Omnishield
A fully segmented, integrated helmet resistant to toxic atmospheres, vacuum, and hazardous environments. Fitted with multispectral oculums installed in the eye sockets, allowing vision in low-light and obscured conditions.
Slate Monitron (Dextera Configuration)
A high-end data-slate mounted on the forearm. Used to receive orders and updated war hymns from the Tempestor Prime, monitor the Scion's vitals, and provide real-time tactical analysis. Veterans often joke that Scions are "dead inside" since their hearts are seemingly locked inside this device.
Micro-bead
A short-range radio transmitter worn in the ear. Enables communication within a one-kilometer radius depending on battlefield conditions.
Respmask
A full or partial breathing mask used in toxic zones, during chemical attacks, or when facing biological threats.
Monoskop
A battlefield visual tool capable of emitting light and uploading visual data to the command unit. Directly linked to the Tempestor's surveillance network, meaning everything a Scion sees is monitored. Intentionally closing the lens can result in severe punishment.
Clarion Vox Array
An advanced military-grade comms system. Unlike the distorted vox units of standard Guardsmen, the Clarion Vox ensures commands are received clearly—even in interference-heavy warzones.
Martyr's Gift Field Service Medi-Kit
An elite medi-kit, packed with combat stimulants, auto-cauterizing gel, and emergency bionics. Designed not for long-term healing, but to keep a soldier fighting. Includes a subdermal explosive belt for last-resort detonation should the Scion be beyond saving.
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Combat Armaments
Hot-shot Lasgun (Lucius Pattern)
The Scions' main weapon. Though it fires slower than standard lasguns, it packs significantly more punch and can penetrate heavy armor. Typically reserved for elite units and high-ranking officers.
Hot-shot Lasgun (Ryza Pattern)
An exclusive variant powered by a hyper-yield power array rigged to the back instead of a conventional power pack. Can be calibrated for high-energy bursts capable of penetrating ceramite. At maximum output, it delivers up to 60 megathules—powerful enough to radiate heat through gloves.
Hot-shot Volley Gun (Ryza Pattern)
A heavy weapon that combines raw firepower with high-volume output. Considered the ultimate squad weapon by many Tempestor Primes, it's devastating against heavily armored targets and resilient enemies like Heretic Astartes.
Hot-shot Laspistol
A compact version of the Hot-shot Lasgun. Commonly issued to officers or Scions outfitted with Clarion Vox Arrays. A Scion squad member may swap their main weapon for this pistol variant.
Flamer, Meltagun, Plasma Gun, Grenade Launcher
Two out of every five Scions in a squad can exchange their Hot-shot Lasguns for one of these weapons, depending on the tactical objective.
Combat Knife
A standard close-combat weapon used across the Imperium, from hive serfs to planetary governors. Some are specialized (e.g., Catachan Knives), while others are universally issued.
Frag & Krak Grenades
Standard hand-thrown explosives. Frag grenades are used against soft infantry, while Krak grenades are designed to breach armored targets.
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Additional Standard Gear
Astra Militarum Combat Uniform
Worn under Carapace Armour. Usually patterned and colored according to the regiment of origin.
4 Hot-shot Power Packs
High-output energy cells compatible with Hot-shot Lasguns. Each pack delivers a full clip's worth of high-energy shots.
Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer
A mandatory handbook issued to all Astra Militarum personnel. Contains basic tactics, equipment descriptions, and intel on the enemies of the Imperium. Even Scions are required to carry it as part of their standard loadout.