A Day in the Life of a Warhammer Slacker Primarch

A Day in the Life of a Warhammer Slacker Primarch

842, M30, Solar Segmentum

Alicia was a beautiful planet. Compared to the countless Death Worlds across the Imperium, it could be called a little paradise.

But in this cruel, despairing universe, nowhere could truly be called paradise. After all, this was the Warhammer World.

Honestly, when Hogg learned he'd been transported to the Warhammer World, he felt like a Gretchin whose toes had just been stepped on. He'd only managed not to cry because he had a strong will.

Sure, he and his idiot friends used to crack Warhammer jokes all the time, saying that if they ever got the chance, they'd toss one another into the Warhammer World for a bit of fun. But "I don't fucking want to end up in this cesspit!"

"Sir, sir! I'd like one crispy meat wrap."

A crowd had gathered in front of Hogg's BBQ Fast Food in the upper levels of the Hive City. Most of them were women, though there were plenty of men too. Every one of them gazed dreamily at Hogg behind the counter.

"Sure, just a moment." Ignoring their stares, Master Hogg got to work.

Behind the counter, the handsome, two-meter-tall Hogg moved with practiced ease. With one hand, he roasted the pre-skewered meat over a Promethium stove; with the other, he spread out a crisp flatbread.

Two minutes later, he had a wrap ready, filled with roasted meat and savory sauce. After adding a cup of fruit-flavored drink he'd mixed himself, Hogg leaned down and handed it to the elegantly dressed woman in front of him.

Then he turned down the latest in a long string of baffling invitations from an obvious upper-class noblewoman—number 1,452, by his count—and began making food for the next customer.

As Throne Coins jingled crisply, his wallet grew heavier, and Hogg felt a satisfying warmth inside. (Throne Coins will have to do! I couldn't find anything about the currency system.)

At dusk, Hogg closed the shop and set off with a huge insulated container on his back, slowly making his way down the battered Plasteel steps of the Hive City.

His destination was the entrance to the lower Hive City, about a kilometer below. The insulated container held the takeout orders customers had placed that morning.

The Hive Cities of the Warhammer World weren't like the cities people usually imagined. If Hogg had to compare them to something, they were like Chongqing, the city he'd lived in during his previous life. Of course, you really shouldn't take that comparison too seriously.

A Hive City was a vast, artificial, three-dimensional metropolis. Some people there had never even seen the sky. That was true of the Underhive's residents, at least. Those living near the top of the Hive City enjoyed abundant sunlight and fresh air, cleaned by machines.

Ding! The indicator light came on, and the enormous freight elevator, large enough to carry several tanks, began to move. Before long, Hogg reached the bottom of the Hive City.

The Underhive's age-old exhaust fumes greeted him. They said that in some places the fumes could choke a person to death. Maybe people's constitutions differed, because they didn't affect Hogg at all. If anything, they smelled a little sweet.

Hogg soon spotted the person he'd arranged to meet: a sturdy Defense Force soldier in green Flak Armour. One of his hands was a metal prosthetic, and a Lasgun was strapped to his back. When he saw Hogg, he headed over.

"Hey, Hogg!" The two embraced warmly.

"Would you look at you? You've gotten so big. I remember when you were this little. Ha ha!"

Bruce wanted to pat Hogg on the head, but with Hogg standing over two meters tall, he couldn't reach. Instead, he gave his arm a few hearty pats.

"Uncle Bruce, I'm already twelve. It's normal to get a little taller, isn't it?" Hogg was delighted to see Bruce. They chatted as they headed toward the nearby Defense Force base.

"Look who's here! Our 'Walking Star,' Hogg Menethil!"

Bruce's rough voice rang out across the camp. Before long, a crowd of burly men and fierce women poured out of the surrounding rooms and swarmed around Hogg.

Faced with everyone's enthusiasm, Hogg could only open his pack and hand out wraps, smiling as he bantered with them.

Honestly, Hogg was a bit of a shut-in and wasn't used to lively gatherings like this, even though they were all his friends.

Back at his shop, Hogg lay on a three-meter-long bed made of metal. He shed his usual composure and calm, and began his daily ritual of brooding over life.

Twelve years ago, Hogg had been an ordinary college graduate. After work one day, he'd been gaming at home with his friends, losing match after match in a five-man team, when he spotted a shooting star in the sky.

Hogg prepared to make a wish. He closed his eyes, pressed his palms together, and murmured:

"I want a colorful, exciting life. I don't want to live such a dull, lifeless existence. If possible, I'd also like a girlfriend—preferably a cute beast-eared girl. An elegant elf lady would be fine too. I'm not picky."

Before he could finish, Hogg opened his eyes and saw the shooting star make an abrupt ninety-degree turn and crash straight into him.

And then there was nothing. Hogg had been reincarnated as a baby and left to survive in the wilderness.

At one year old, Hogg had already started wandering the wilderness. When he got tired, he dug a hole and crawled in to sleep. When he got hungry, he found something to eat. He'd eaten every beast in Alicia's wilderness.

Alicia's civil war had just ended when the 4th Defense Company, sent to gather supplies, found him and took him in. Their old company commander, the most learned among them and the equivalent of an elementary school graduate, gave him the surname Menethil.

Honestly, Hogg thought the surname Menethil was a little ominous. Not for himself, of course, but for his cheap excuse for a father in this world.

But judging from what he knew, even if he grew up, there was probably no chance of a loving father-son reunion.

After all, based on his deductions, his cheap excuse for a dad had to be that man.

The one who ruled over most of the Galaxy, commanded ten million superhuman soldiers, smashed a C'tan Shard with a single blow, tricked the Chaos Gods into setting the Warp on fire, and was the one Slaanesh dreamed of crawling into bed with. Even Khorne would offer him a cigarette. Even if the whole universe were destroyed, he'd be left with a mouth, shouting, "I am not a god!"—the golden, gold-loving giant: the Emperor.

Haaah! Since I'm already here, what else can I do? Hogg wriggled around and pulled his fluffy little blanket tighter.

As one of the twenty-one children created by the Emperor—a Primarch—Hogg possessed an incredibly powerful body and skills that would leave people astounded.

For example, Hogg had a tremendously strong body and the vitality of a monster. At twelve years old, he could shatter the main building materials of the spacefaring age with one punch. His brain rivaled the most powerful computer, and he could learn anything after seeing it once.

Ordinary weapons could barely pierce his skin. Even when injured, as long as he wasn't killed instantly, he could heal and regenerate at an astonishing speed, like a bio-monster from a game in his previous life. He didn't even seem to obey the conservation of mass and energy; he could survive by eating dirt when he was hungry.

Hogg also felt that his special abilities hadn't awakened yet. Once they did, he'd only get more powerful—more awesome!

He'd experienced this firsthand when a unit had blanketed him with fire during the civil war. If you were wondering what happened to the other side, let's just say they should watch themselves in their next life.

Half a year later, the Hive City where that unit was stationed had been razed to the ground. That was the main reason the civil war ended.

But what did it matter if he was a Primarch? It was the thirtieth millennium. The Imperial Truth held sway, and this wasn't the disgusting, despairing world of the fortieth millennium. But even a Primarch was little more than a slightly more important pawn without an awakened Warp Essence!

If Hogg could punch a Chaos God into the ground, then he could show the Four Chaos Gods what it meant to be completely insane.

In short, without a cheat in the Warhammer World, you were just a nameless extra. Darkness and despair were the only true themes of this universe.

"Where are the cute beast-eared girls and elegant elf ladies I was promised? Shooting star, get your ass back here! I want after-sales service! Damn it, I might as well give up and spend the rest of my life eating and waiting to die. Worst case, I could just—"

As if Hogg's grumbling had done something, an invincible voice rang out in the tiny room. With a sharp slap, Hogg felt a golden palm smack him hard.

Hogg stopped wriggling on the bed. His body was glowing with an eerie light, and he felt several unpleasant gazes fixed on him from the void.

Red, blue, green, and purple lights flickered and crossed. Then he devoured them.

It was as if he heard a furious roar. Blood-red light surged toward him, but he devoured that too. Then a streak of golden light struck, accompanied by a miserable yelp like a dog's, and the red light finally stopped throwing itself at him.

A voice reached his mind:

[Found you (golden text)]

"W(Д)w Aaaaaah! Oh, I think I know which four bastards those were. All I can say is, thanks for the tip, big guy!"

Stunned, Hogg felt that his life probably wouldn't be peaceful from here on out. The good news was that his dad had come for him. The bad news was that his cheap excuse for a dad was coming for him.

Rubbing his head, Hogg wondered whether that big guy had heard what he'd said just now.

Haaah! What's done is done. I'll just go to sleep first!!!