A Wonderful Transmigration

(The Warhammer World is a setting of space opera and idealism. Unlike hard science fiction, its worldview is somewhat different.

I, the head eunuch, have returned. I am a fan of Warhammer, just someone who enjoys the fragmented sense of being both advanced and backward that the Warhammer worldview provides.

Boarding and anti-boarding actions are experiences one simply cannot miss.

Leave your brains at the door, thank you.)

The Art Student stared blankly at the endless space surrounding him. Colorful torrents of energy surged and ebbed throughout the void. Five of these torrents were the most powerful—black, green, red, blue, and pink—silently colliding with one another before dissipating into the space, locked in a mortal, never-ending struggle like sworn enemies.

The entire space was filled with countless floating continents. These lands were shattered and dilapidated, formed from the bones and flesh of various horrific creatures.

Countless terrifying monsters roamed these continents. Their appearances were wild, free, and unrestrained, indifferent to the perceptions of ordinary beings.

To the Art Student, a mere mortal, he could only vaguely discern that these monsters were humanoid in shape, and they were currently locked in mutual slaughter.

Huge, terrifying blue avian monsters circled in the sky, unleashing waves of horrific lightning and fire upon the massive, rotting green monsters below, creating countless ripples in the air.

They emitted unintelligible words from their beaks, sounding like whispers.

"Praise the Lord of Wisdom."

The lightning and fire bombarded the ground like relentless missiles, blasting those horrific, disgusting, rotting green monsters into ash.

Some of the green monsters that survived the attacks unleashed their own terrifying green energy toward the sky, within which various tiny, decaying organisms were intermingled.

The ugly faces of the green monsters wore expressions of fanatical devotion, launching desperate, fearless attacks against the avian monsters in the sky.

They roared loudly.

"Praise the Grandfather."

Some of the blue avian monsters circling in the sky failed to dodge in time and were struck by the green energy. Their bodies, which had been relatively normal, began to rot and fester with maggots in an instant. They became hideous, their blood-red eyes turning toward their still-normal companions to launch suicidal attacks.

The blue avian monsters in the sky fell into chaos, some trying to attack the green monsters below, others fighting off their mutated kin.

Elsewhere, various bizarre and terrifying monsters engaged in melee combat, hacking at each other with cold weapons. One would swing a sword, the other would return an axe, like children brawling, entirely devoid of the gravity one would expect in battle.

Each roared unintelligible phrases.

"Skulls for the Skull Throne, blood for the Blood God."

"Praise the Lord of Pleasure."

After being struck, they would emit neurotic, strange laughter and unbearable moans, as if high on something, looking at each other with provocation and spouting words the Art Student could not understand, waiting to see who would collapse first.

Massive monsters slaughtered other massive monsters, while smaller ones faced off against their own kind. Some smaller monsters accidentally wandered into the fray of the giants; the annoyed brutes would simply swat them aside, turning them into a paste of flesh smeared across the ground.

On the edges of the battlefield, a group of humanoid beings clad in heavy armor, their bodies wreathed in black flames, prowled about. They held massive firearms, harvesting the heavily wounded monsters. The power of these weapons was astonishing; the monsters they struck would explode instantly, turning into corpses that collapsed onto the continent of flesh and bone.

The monsters still locked in combat, finding their opponents killed by cold shots from a third party, grew furious. They raised their great axes and charged toward the armored figures.

The armored figures remained calm, their weapons firing continuously at the monsters. Yet, every time a shot was about to hit, it would vanish into thin air a few meters in front of the monster, and the firearms could not stop the approach of some of the creatures.

The armored figure calmly holstered the massive firearm back onto his belt and drew a buzzing, gear-toothed single-handed sword.

He shouted.

"For the Emperor."

He charged toward the monster, dodging incoming attacks with swift movements. Seizing an opening, he cleaved the monster in two with his Chainsword. After finishing off his opponent, the armored figure did not linger, quickly retreating to the rear to retrieve his massive firearm and continue taking cold shots from a distance.

The Art Student watched the bloody slaughter in a daze. For his small worldview, the impact was immense. Having grown up in a peaceful country, the most tragic thing he had ever encountered was a car accident.

Although the Art Student liked to search for bloody scenes on the internet, there was a vast difference between seeing them online and witnessing them face-to-face.

The Art Student tried hard to control his bladder and his trembling legs, struggling not to make a fool of himself.

But his legs refused to obey; they had a mind of their own. The Art Student could no longer stand and fell hard onto the ground made of flesh and bone.

He stared blankly at the battlefield. Slowly, he regained his senses and realized that the fighting monsters were still far away and would not enter a certain radius around him.

The Art Student made a rough estimate: there wasn't a single monster within a thousand-meter radius of him. Even if some monsters were knocked back into his radius, those that had been full of vigor would instantly become weak and frail.

They would move slowly, their faces twisted in agony, struggling on the ground like fish out of water. Within ten seconds, they would stop moving, dying in agony.

"Huh? A thousand meters?"

Smack.

Thinking of this, the Art Student couldn't help but give himself a hard slap.

"I feel pain. I'm not dreaming. This is reality."

The Art Student couldn't help but mutter to himself. He knew his own condition best; when had he ever been able to see things a thousand meters away? His vision was barely 5.0, just the standard of a normal person; it was impossible to see that far.

Moreover, he was just an ordinary wage slave who had never learned how to estimate distance. Without tools, he couldn't do such a thing.

Slowly calming down, the Art Student discovered something else. Although his legs were still too weak to stand, a strange power was acting upon him.

The feeling was like having someone he truly loathed barge into his home uninvited. He wanted to drive them out, but the intruder was larger than him, making the task of forcing them out incredibly strenuous.