Under the Skies of Chemos

Kasgar had transmigrated.

He had transmigrated to a strange, wasteland planet.

From the crude, regressive pronunciations of the locals who had long since lost their written language, he learned the name of this world.

Chimos.

A world that had lost everything, leaving behind only despair.

Even now, sitting within the cold iron walls, the mournful wails of terrifying radiation storms and countless violent particles battering the fortress never ceased.

There had never been good times here.

And the Karax Fortress, where he, Kasgar Sherlock, resided, was one of the few remaining human shelters on this dying planet.

A coffin.

Since his birth, this was Kasgar Sherlock's first impression of this place.

Beyond the fortress lay a forbidden zone for life.

As for those of them who survived within, aside from facing the inevitable exhaustion of resources, all their futile efforts were merely delaying the tolling of the funeral bell.

Fortunately, despite the harsh environment, his background was not actually that bad.

The Sherlock Family was one of the ancient noble houses that controlled this human fortress.

Compared to the workers who had to toil endlessly on assembly lines from the age of three, Kasgar, the youngest son of the noble Sherlock Family, was far luckier.

Although he was not well-liked and was often envied and ostracized by his older brothers in the clan.

For these past twenty years, he had been kept under house arrest within the manor, never once stepping outside.

The fortress was also a prison.

But because of this, Kasgar was able to enjoy the rare leisure of this shelter, lingering on in the shadows of the high-walled elite.

The repetitive and dull days continued until his twentieth birthday.

His long life of house arrest finally reached a turning point:

He inadvertently learned of a deeply hidden piece of news.

A political marriage.

For this, Kasgar's several "good" brothers had long since been fighting tooth and nail.

But he had been completely unaware.

And had he not overheard six servants whispering about it outside his door six days ago, the handsome Kasgar might have been eliminated from the competition early on.

According to those servants, the woman his brothers were scrambling to curry favor with was a legendary figure in Karax Fortress.

At fifteen, she had self-taught the construction of machinery in the production workshops, successfully improving the production lines and becoming a self-taught engineer in the shelter.

At twenty, she had already been promoted to the new manager of the Karax Fortress factories after significantly improving worker conditions through the construction of various new mechanical devices.

While gaining the support and adoration of countless people, she had ascended to the ranks of the rulers of Karax Fortress.

Legend had it that she possessed a waterfall of silver-white hair, soul-captivating purple eyes, and a perfectly stunning face to match.

Any machine that passed through her hands could be quickly repaired as if new, and production efficiency would skyrocket.

According to the workers, she was the Goddess of Water from local ancient legends, capable of bestowing sweet dew upon the barren earth.

Kasgar was unwilling to subscribe to such ridiculous rhetoric.

To be able to survive on this dying wasteland planet while possessing a stunning appearance, innate mechanical knowledge, and an absolute charm that made everyone fall for her.

Impossible.

There was no way such a perfect human being could exist in this world.

His brothers, who believed in such legends and fought over her, either had brains that had regressed to a primitive state along with their civilization.

Or they were hallucinating from eating too many starch bars.

That said.

Subconsciously, these descriptions always gave him an extremely familiar sense of déjà vu.

But, regardless, if he could win the woman's favor and marry into her, it seemed to be his only chance to escape his current control.

He did not want to be trapped in this cage called a fortress for the rest of his life.

He would sneak out to see her.

If he could successfully marry that woman, this family would never be able to imprison him again.

Kasgar made up his mind, taking the map of the fortress's secret passages and the purple key that could open the manor's side gate from his drawer.

It was somewhat bizarre, come to think of it.

Even he himself could not remember the origin of these items.

Reality was often more magical than legend.

This was a truth he had often grasped in his previous life.

Kasgar tiptoed out of the manor, glancing around nervously.

For the first time, he had managed to escape the surveillance of his numerous guards; for the first time, he had left his own courtyard to head toward the factory where his "potential fiancée" worked, following the address noted by the servants.

The plan had gone surprisingly smoothly—at the manor gate, usually guarded with extreme rigor, he hadn't seen a single sentry.

Where had they all gone?

Kasgar had no idea.

And so, without any obstruction, he slipped into the Karax lower-level factory.

Steel behemoths roared and thundered, and scarlet furnaces spat sparks in every direction. Countless numb workers performed monotonous tasks on the assembly line. In this factory of a dying world, work efficiency was the only requirement.

He saw her, and quickly.

She was the only graceful figure in this dark, cramped factory.

And in that very instant, Kasgar froze.

The servants had not lied.

His arranged marriage partner was indeed a goddess.

As an engineer, she sat beside a pitch-black, ancient machine, her amethyst-clear eyes fixed on the parts in her hands, constantly searching and adjusting.

Though her engineer's uniform was simple, it still outlined her lithe and curvaceous figure.

But what drew the eye most was that long, snow-white hair—that beautiful hair flowing as quietly as a galaxy.

Yet, such beautiful hair was draped so carelessly over this dirty, ugly machine!

It was simply a waste of heaven's gifts.

Fortunately, even though the machine was belching thick black smoke, and even though she was barefoot, sitting directly on the filthy, uncleaned factory floor, not a single speck of grime dared to touch her flawless body.

She remained as pristine as new.

Perfect.

That was Kasgar's first impression of her.

The legends were all true.

His potential fiancée really was a goddess.

Just as Kasgar was stunned by her perfection, her repairs came to an end.

After a rapid assembly that left only afterimages to the naked eye, the machine before her began to operate once more.

Thanks to her modifications, its rotation speed was even several notches faster than its counterparts nearby.

Perhaps the machine was atoning for the act of defiling her perfection.

Kasgar thought this for no apparent reason.

And just then, she turned her head to look at Kasgar.

Another uninvited guest from the Sherlock family.

She stood up, her brilliant, amethyst-like eyes looking with interest at the somewhat timid Kasgar.

Wow.

So big.

Kasgar looked up at her, unable to help but exclaim in his heart.

It was even more exaggerated than the legends.

This goddess possessed a giant stature of over two meters, nearing three!

Even though Kasgar came from a wealthy family and his height, physique, and appearance were top-tier compared to those malnourished wretches who only ate starch sticks, he still felt inferior compared to the woman before him, who was like a deity.

Anyone would feel inferior.

But at the same time, why was there such a faint sense of familiarity?

Had he seen her before?

Also, what was her name?

"Kasgar Sherlock."

His throat was dry, his heart tense.

He bowed stiffly, introducing himself.

"...The youngest of the Sherlock family."

"Fulgrim."

Her voice was crisp and sweet, like honey that humanity in this world had not yet earned the right to taste.

She smiled and greeted him in return.

Facing the succession of suitors from the Sherlock family, she had long since prepared a polite response.

"Fulgrim?!"

However, Kasgar was startled by this.

What spilled from his mouth were strange words she had never anticipated.

He asked a question that was not a question.

"You are Fulgrim???"

"This Chimos of ours... is it... is it that Chemos?"

He clutched his head with both hands, his pupils trembling violently.

His tone was somewhat shaky.

A ridiculous question, wasn't it?

Besides this Chemos, what other Chemos could there be?

"Yes, that's right?"

"My foster parents named me Fulgrim, indeed derived from the name of a deity in the ancient myths of Chemos."

"But I am not that goddess."

Even as a being of perfection, Fulgrim had to ponder the meaning of such a question for a moment.

In her view, Kasgar had likely mistaken her for that Goddess of Water from the legends of Chemos.

It was not as if such things had never happened before.

Her perfection was truly capable of leaving people with a shock akin to witnessing a deity.

During this brief silence, Kasgar blinked his eyes vigorously, as if his mind were digesting some profound and obscure knowledge.

Soon, Kasgar understood.

He understood the origin of his own handsome appearance.

He understood why he had heard six servants discussing this matter six days ago.

He understood why he had suddenly found the tightly guarded key to the purple gate.

He understood the dying planet of Chemos where he resided, and that he was facing Fulgrim, the Primarch of the Third Legion.

He understood that he had transmigrated into the Warhammer World.

He understood it all.

Then, he smiled with relief.