Blue Star, late at night.
Wang Zhong rubbed his sore eyes and left the matchmaking queue in Warhammer 40K: Space Marine 2.
Six hours.
He'd spent six whole hours playing Extermination, blasting the heads off who knew how many Tyranids and Chaos scum with his bolter.
But now, even matchmaking took three minutes. The game was on its last legs.
"By the Emperor, this matchmaking system must've been blessed by Tzeentch."
He muttered as his fingers tapped out the full version of his gaming ID: "Loyal to the Emperor, but I have work on Monday, so I can only play until two in the morning."
It was his universal ID across all his games. The name was absurdly long, but its meaning was clear.
Just as he was about to close Steam and open the hidden folder named "Study Materials,"
a pop-up appeared out of nowhere and smacked him right in the face.
"Era 40k: Mecha. The Starry Sea awaits your exploration."
He read it aloud, his voice full of offended disbelief. "What kind of Frankenstein game studio came up with that name?"
"Do you know what 40k means in the gaming world?"
"Do you know how many sourcebooks, retcons, WAAAGH!s, and sacrifices of the Emperor's finest it represents?"
He moved his mouse and aimed precisely at the "×" in the top-right corner of the pop-up.
The page... was too clean.
No flashing offers for a free bolter with your first purchase, no "If you're a Primarch, come fight me." It was as clean as the first page of the Ecclesiarchy's holy scripture—if you ignored the heretical slogan, "The Starry Sea awaits your exploration."
"Fine. Let this loyalist see which Chaos nest spawned this digital plague."
He clicked in, ready to report it once he'd finished looking. He'd already thought of the reason: "Suspected T'au Empire cultural infiltration."
The CG began to play.
Stars, warships, mecha... Smooth visuals, rugged sci-fi designs, and an invigorating spirit of exploration.
Wang Zhong's folded arms gradually loosened.
"...Damn."
Ten seconds later, he let out a single word. "This CG has a bit of Sanguinius's wings about it, doesn't it?"
"No, wait. The mecha don't have skulls or eagle emblems. They're so clean, they look like an atheist's handiwork! But the texture..."
He saw the number of early access slots: 5,000. It hadn't changed.
Curiosity, a drive second only to loyalty to the Emperor and hatred of heretics, spurred him on.
He hurried over to his encrypted chat group, Terra Underground Network Tavern (Not Heretical).
Loyal to the Emperor: "@everyone, look at this pop-up! Era 40k: Mecha! Which Chaos brat is behind this?"
I'm Not the Lord Regent, Just a Passing Guilliman:
"? That name has way too many elements."
"Is the link safe?"
"Last time I clicked on something called 'Conquer the Eye of Terror,' I woke up the next day to find 50 gigs of Nurgle Grandfather memes on my hard drive."
Schrodinger's Loyalist: "Era 40k? Damn, they nailed the timeline, huh?"
"Aren't they afraid the Inquisition will arrest them for temporal heresy?"
Mechanicus Oil-Lover on the Run: "Already clicked in."
"CG rendering precision exceeds that of common commercial engines by 17.4%. Mecha design lacks certain conventions of reasonable aesthetics—no skull decorations or sacred litanies. Suspected to be the product of unknown technological capabilities."
"A little suspicious, but very interesting."
Did White Scars speed today: "Clicked before I even thought! Got a slot! Lightning fast! But why didn't I have to fill in any information? Even faster than the Orks grabbing stuff!"
Emperor's Sword but very dull: "I clicked too! Why does this signup process feel as random as an Ork saying, 'I reckon you can do it'?"
Seeing the old hands in the group snapping up slots, Wang Zhong hurried back to the page and clicked too.
The number started dropping: 4,999, 4,998... It was falling faster and faster.
"Interesting." He switched back to the group.
Loyal to the Emperor but I Don't Forgive Traitors Today: "Brothers, first come, first served!"
"Only 5,000 slots! Emperor's trial or Tzeentch's maze, doesn't matter. Fill them up first!"
"If it's a trap, we'll go in shouting 'For the Emperor!' If they're allies, we'll hack heretics together. If it's a trap, we'll hack the operators!"
Soul of Cadia (Retired): "Signed up! Cadia stands! Even if it's a trap!"
Want Silent King's Crown but cannot afford: "Signed up."
"I hope the psyker stuff in there makes sense. I don't want psykers putting on fireworks shows like in certain games."
Tau, you're right, but the bolter's righter: "Reserved a slot."
"In the Emperor's name, I shall observe with caution."
"If I detect any sign of T'au Coalition Army sympathies, I'll carry out immediate physical purging."
Before long, all 5,000 slots were gone.
Wang Zhong received a brief confirmation notice, and then everything fell silent.
The next day, Wang Zhong was a little distracted.
He spent his downtime at work thinking about the game.
How could it create an immersive experience without VR equipment?
Had brain-computer interface technology made a breakthrough?
Impossible. There hadn't been a word about it.
Could it be some new kind of hypnosis or subconscious projection? Wouldn't that make it a cult?
He kept checking his email and QQ, afraid he'd miss the download link.
It wasn't until eleven that night, when he was about to wash up and go to bed, that an inconspicuous download prompt appeared in the bottom-right corner of his computer screen.
The installation package was tiny, just 17 KB.
"That's so small. Is this a joke?" Wang Zhong downloaded it without a second thought, then clicked to open it.
A pitch-black page appeared at once, displaying the following text:
[Preparing connection... Please ensure you are in a safe environment. Immersive experience: approximately 8 hours. External perception will be temporarily disabled.]
"This is for real?"
Wang Zhong took a deep breath and clicked confirm.
His senses were pulled away, and he began to fall.
There was no character creation screen like he'd expected, only profound darkness and a silent descent.
Then came scattered, unfamiliar images and sensations. Like drops of ink falling into clear water, they spread through his consciousness.
...The coarse taste of bread...
...A man named Old Barry scolding someone...
...Hauling parts through an oil-stained workshop, arms aching...
..."Carl," someone called you... No, not you...
...The hazy sky over Arlu City, towering smokestacks...
...A blurred face, possibly a relative...
...Fear of the Crimson Bright Wasteland, howling in the night...
The fragments were disordered and real, carrying the rough texture of life at the bottom.
They quickly settled, forming a thin layer of background memories, as if they'd always been there and had only just come to mind.
Then a cold voice sounded directly in the depths of his consciousness, sharply contrasting with those warm fragments of memory:
[Local identity memory fragments implanted. To facilitate identification and cooperation with players, please set your public player identity (name). This identifier will serve as your primary means of interaction.]
Wang Zhong's mind was still a little hazy. The trivial memories about Carl left him somewhat confused.
But his powerful gamer instincts quickly overrode the discomfort.
"Name? Isn't that just my game ID?"
His thoughts raced. "In a place that sounds this hardcore, if I show up with a name like 'Loyal to the Emperor, but I have work on Monday'... I'll probably get shot before I can finish saying it."
"Short, strong, and it needs to make my allegiance clear!"
He focused his mind and sent the information to the cold voice:
"[Loyal to the Emperor Forever]."
[Identifier confirmed: Loyal to the Emperor Forever. Connection stable. Beginning consciousness projection]
Before you continue