Unlucky isekai? (Warhammer 40000)

Only when he followed the newly arrived Inquisitor did Stas finally come to his senses.

All this time, he had been in some strange state, akin to a too-real nightmare.

Now, however, Ordynets saw everything that had happened in a new light.

The mental effort and the golden light pouring out in all directions began to fade until it disappeared completely, leaving his ordinary skin. Unfortunately, the wings remained, hanging ominously behind his back.

Stas remembered perfectly well—and somehow knew—the monstrous power they possessed.

Despite the fact that the man was barefoot, walking on the cold metal floor, there was not even a hint of discomfort. To be precise, he felt the cold, but it brought no unpleasantness. Stas suspected that even if he found himself on a frozen world with temperatures of minus fifty, his new body would easily adapt to such conditions.

In other words, though he still looked human, he was no longer one.

"I see you're beginning to get used to your powers," Meer remarked approvingly as he walked beside him. "It's a great honor for me to meet someone like you in person. Given that all other Living Saints have been women, the Emperor must have a grand plan for you."

"I would like to meet the Emperor," Stas's piercing gaze locked onto the Inquisitor. Though he no longer glowed, there was something awe-inspiring about him. "Immediately."

Hector, walking behind them, nearly stumbled at how calmly his savior spoke of wanting to meet none other than the Emperor Himself!

Even to simply gaze at the Palace from afar, people could wait decades, if not centuries. The pilgrimage queue to Terra was reportedly booked for millennia!

And as for approaching or even entering the Palace—that was out of the question.

"Of course, Saint," the Lord Inquisitor's response made Justus widen his eyes and stare at him. "You will meet the Emperor, but first, we must address the matter of your... attire. After all, your current appearance hardly suits your status."

Ordynets sighed, acknowledging the point. The rags barely covering his waist were ready to fall off at any moment.

"Additionally, we must discuss the matter of your sainthood with the Ecclesiarchy. No, no, there's no issue with that," Meer chuckled, misreading Stas's expression. "Your two proofs," he nodded at the wings, "plus what you did back in that hall, more than confirm who you are. But you understand—tradition."

Ordynets turned away in displeasure. Of course, he could argue, but he decided against it.

After all, though he had much to say to the Emperor, he could be patient.

The news of another Living Saint's appearance literally exploded across Terra's society. And the rumors that, for the first time in history, this Saint was a man, left no one indifferent.

Details of his appearance and abilities, despite all prohibitions, spread like wildfire across the galaxy.

On Ixodes, a female Inquisitor with a characteristic green braid smiled upon hearing of the Saint's appearance under a familiar name. She could only shake her head at the whimsical ways of fate.

Meanwhile, on Baal, Dante read the incoming reports with pride. He had immediately realized that the man he had spoken to was something far greater than he had initially thought. And now, his resemblance to their Primarch only confirmed it.

Stas's enemies also heard of him—or rather, the one enemy who had managed to survive.

Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka, with the wisdom characteristic of his kind, decided that attacking Terra or any other world where Saint Stas currently resided was... uninteresting. Instead, he would seek a challenge in the diametrically opposite direction.

Perhaps this was influenced by the voices of his gods in his head. For some reason, Gork and Mork, unlike their usual behavior, seemed strangely contemplative about everything related to this Saint.

Stas himself became more acquainted with the Imperial Church, which, to everyone's surprise, hardly bothered him with its rules. Normally, every Saint—or rather, Saintess—would be "marinated" for a time, indoctrinated with the "wisdom" of the founding fathers. But this time, things were different.

The only thing that took up a significant amount of Stas's time was the measurement, fitting, and trial of a new set of silver-and-gold armor with slots for his wings.

The best Mechanicus adepts took on the task, and rumors suggested they were guided by ancient blueprints of armor belonging to a certain winged Primarch.

As mentioned earlier, the appearance of a Living Saint had attracted the attention of many. And it was logical to assume that just as many saw this as their chance for greatness.

Dozens of ship captains, politicians, members of the Administratum, Ministorum, and Imperial Navy, among others, realized that by aligning themselves with the newly appeared Saint, they could unlock unlimited opportunities for career advancement.

And so, as the newly anointed Saint grew accustomed to his powers and mingled with the high-ranking figures of the Imperium, the most ambitious individuals in the galaxy converged on Terra.