Unlucky isekai? (Warhammer 40000)

- "No, son," Ordyntsev smirked crookedly. "You guessed wrong."

The Primarch's wariness only grew as he watched every move of the living saint. 

Fulgrim's memories were hazy, and he wasn't entirely sure of them. Slaanesh took perverse pleasure in torturing him occasionally, updating him on the state of the Imperium after the Heresy.

Fulgrim took a step and effortlessly jumped down from the rather high pedestal. His bare feet slapped against the steel floor, and the Primarch loomed over the winged man, who suddenly began to smile in a way that was far too unsettling.

- "Yes, yes!" Stas deactivated his flaming sword and, just like with Vect, moved it aside to ensure the Primarch wouldn't accidentally kill himself on it. Moreover, the saint's heightened senses and psyker abilities controlled the entire surroundings, ready to counter any threat directed at Fulgrim. Stas was determined to end it all here and now. "Come on, traitor, do it!"

Fulgrim's violet eyes narrowed, and then he exploded into motion. Ordyntsev closed his eyes with a faint smile, ready to meet his end, but… Seconds passed, and he was still standing in this cursed world!

Stanislav opened his eyes in annoyance and stared at the Primarch, who now knelt before him, head bowed.

- "Kill me," Fulgrim requested without raising his head.

- "What?" Stas shook his head furiously. "Why the hell do you want to die? Doesn't your Chaos-corrupted soul crave death and destruction? And in case you haven't noticed, I'm a saint of your father!"

Fulgrim flinched at the mention of Chaos and lowered his head even further in shame.

- "Why do you even want to die?" Stas asked irritably, sheathing his sword. He already realized that this Primarch was a lost cause. Fulgrim had never been his favorite, even back on Terra. Angron, on the other hand—that lunatic didn't need much convincing to kill someone.

- "I cannot atone for my shame," Fulgrim said hollowly. "There is no justification or forgiveness for my actions. Because of my weakness, my brother Ferrus died. Perhaps because of me, Horus gained so much power so quickly…"

- "Fascinating," Ordyntsev snorted and started walking away, leaving the stunned Primarch behind. "I could listen to this all day, but I'm very busy, so goodbye."

For a few seconds, Stas walked in silence, already feeling a faint hope that he would continue his journey alone, when a sudden question shattered those hopes.

- "Why didn't you kill me when you had the chance?" Fulgrim, who had caught up, walked slowly to his left. Given the length of his stride, Stas had no chance of outpacing him. "Even though you're filled with my father's power, you'll never have another chance to fight a Primarch."

Stas rolled his eyes, sensing the pride in Fulgrim's words. After all, a Primarch wouldn't be a Primarch without an ego the size of an Imperial battleship.

Having already met two Primarchs, Ordyntsev was beginning to understand where the reverence for them came from. Not that Stas underestimated their strength and abilities—plus, there was the whole religious indoctrination—but he suspected that a significant part of the awe surrounding the Emperor's sons came from their passive psychic aura.

If you thought about it for even a moment, it all made sense. The Primarchs had absorbed not only immense physical strength but also a portion of their father's psychic talents. Sure, most of them weren't psykers, but that didn't stop them from using their powers to shield themselves from the Immaterium's energy.

And those in their presence couldn't help but feel that psychic might, which made them see the Primarchs as almost godlike.

But the Primarchs weren't gods. Most of them couldn't even be called fully human. Limited to war, in which they had undoubtedly achieved incredible feats, they knew little about more peaceful matters.

Some of the blame likely lay with the Emperor, but who could guess what plans He had for His sons? After all, unlike His children, the Anathema had long since transcended His humanity, becoming a superhuman with all the consequences that entailed.

Could an ape comprehend the plans of a man? In the same way, a superhuman surpassed a human.

- "Because I don't need to," Stas replied with such indifference that Fulgrim nearly stumbled.

- "I am the arch-traitor," the Primarch frowned. "One of those who started the Horus Heresy. The one who left the Emperor in His current state. Don't you want to avenge your ruler?"

- "I always thought Horus was the arch-traitor, but fine. Let's start with the fact that He's not my ruler. And these chicken wings on my back are just the result of a deal with your father. I wasn't hired to kill His sons."

- "That doesn't sound like my father," Fulgrim said, puzzled. "He may have changed over the last ten thousand years, but He used to prefer controlling everything as tightly as possible."

Stas just shrugged, not planning to explain the insane story that had led to their meeting.

Though he was slightly annoyed by the Primarch trailing behind him like a lost duckling, Stas hoped that if he ignored him long enough, he'd eventually go away.

Meanwhile, strange vibrations continued to ripple through the floor, and the distant sounds of explosions echoed.

Stas was about to examine some more exhibits when, with a flash of green, the culprit of the entire situation appeared before them.

- "You-ou-ou-ou!" a metallic voice roared so loudly that any normal humans nearby would have collapsed, blood streaming from their ears. "This is all your fault!"

Fulgrim vanished, reappearing next to the teleporting Necron and attempting to rip its head off, but Trazyn—for it was indeed him—disappeared again, only to reappear on the other side.

The Primarch lunged again, but a green beam from the side slammed him into a nearby wall, pinning him with increased gravity. Though the Necrodermis began to crack and tear as the Primarch struggled, it held him for a moment.

- "Me?" Stas asked with interest, approaching the horror of the galaxy without a hint of fear.

- "You!" Trazyn roared, getting closer. "How I'd love to rip out your intestines and wrap them around your neck!"

- "Yes…" Stas's eyes lit up.

- "I'd break your wings and tear off your head!"

- "Keep going." Ordyntsev was practically reeling him in.

- "But I can't!" The pain in the Necron's voice was so palpable that Stas couldn't even be offended by the ruined expectations.

- "Why?" he sighed.

- "This is why." Trazyn said venomously. In his hand appeared a staff glowing with an emerald light, a green gem at its tip. Strange sparks emanated from it. Trazin aimed the staff at Stas and began slowly moving it closer, and in that instant, all the nearby exhibits seemed to go haywire.

Some began sparking, while others' stasis fields flickered. A few even started smoking, as if something was burning them from within. As soon as this began, Trazyn immediately pulled the staff away in fear.

- "This is all because of you!" The Necron's legs gave out, and he collapsed to his knees, reaching out toward his precious exhibits. "My poor artifacts and relics! Ever since I brought you here, everything's been breaking and going mad. Some exhibits are breaking free and causing chaos, others are disrupting the planetoid's systems, and some are just doing who knows what!"

Trazyn began rocking back and forth, unable to stop.

- "Hundreds of priceless relics lost! Thousands of rare artifacts turned to dust. Things that can't be found anywhere else in the galaxy—gone. And it's all because of you. I tried to prevent it, searched for sabotage, traps, anything—but found nothing."

The Necron's gaze fixed on Ordyntsev, and Stas couldn't help but feel awkward.

- "When I realized it was your presence causing this, I decided to destroy you!" Trazyn continued in a feverish whisper, clutching himself. "I summoned the most monstrous and cruel Necron technologies for this, but… the moment I started, everything got worse. At one point, even our ancient enemy stirred in his prison, and I had to stop."

Even Fulgrim stopped struggling, listening intently to Trazyn's confession.

- "Realizing I couldn't destroy you, I tried to send you back, but—" The Necron's fists clenched. "I couldn't do it! You kept ruining my relics, no matter what I did."

Trazyn jumped to his feet, his trembling finger pointing directly at Stas, who took a step back.

- "You're a monster! A fiend! How can you do this to my collection? What did it ever do to you?"

- "In case you haven't noticed, you're the one who dragged me here," Stas retorted indignantly. "So stop blaming me. You're at fault too!"

- "But I realized my mistake and tried to send you back, so why won't you leave?!"

- "Why, why…" Stas was about to answer when he froze, mouth agape. An unpleasant thought had just occurred to him.

After all his attempts to die at the hands of the evil forces of this cursed universe, he didn't have many options left.

According to intelligence reports, the Ork hordes led by Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka were moving in a suspiciously determined direction away from the Imperium. There were even rumors that the Orks were building an intergalactic fleet, similar to the Tyranids', to travel to another galaxy.

The Tau and Tyranid fleets were caught in the aftermath of the Warp storms, leaving them stuck in endless waves of daemons. The Tau were in a dire situation, while the Tyranids were wasting precious biomass, as they gained nothing from killing daemons.

The Dark Eldar had also met their inevitable end, and their surviving remnants were scattered across the galaxy's hidden corners. Once they recovered, pirate raids would resume—they couldn't live without torture and slaves—but the scale of such attacks would be incomparable.

The Necrons, represented by Trazyn, just wanted Stas to leave and never return.

In the end, the picture before Ordyntsev was far from cheerful. Of all the major players, only one remained—Chaos.

From the Blood Angels' librarians, Stas already knew that Chaos likely had only three gods left, as the fourth, Tzeentch, had probably died. But even so, they remained a formidable force.

Thus, Stas's last remaining attempt to escape this damned universe rested with good old Chaos.

But endless failures had taught Ordyntsev that approaching his death required proper preparation. If he just charged into the Eye of Terror, anything could happen! For all he knew, it might close right before his fleet!

No, this required cunning.

Stas vaguely remembered the events that were supposed to occur in fifty years.

If his memory served him correctly, the 13th Black Crusade of Abaddon would take place in half a century. The great failure of Chaos, who had already—if you thought about it—failed twelve times over ten thousand years, was finally going to make his move to conquer the world… or rather, destroy the Emperor and the Imperium.

For this purpose, he would bring the largest and most dangerous Chaos fleet to Cadia, the Imperial bastion world located right in front of the Eye of Terror, preventing it from expanding further.

At this time, in the galleries of Solemnace, Trazyn's planet, the Bell of Saint Gerstahl would ring thirteen times, causing terrible destruction to the museum before falling silent. Trazyn would immediately toss it into the Webway, hoping it would torment the Eldar instead.

Five of Trazyn's spare bodies would be destroyed, half of Solemnace's stasis vaults would collapse or flood with coolant up to ankle level, the legions would fall into slumber, and the control program would glitch.

To uncover the mystery of the bell's omen, Trazyn would travel to the Celestial Orrery, belonging to the Oruscar Dynasty, and learn that something terrible was happening in the galaxy. Identifying the source of the corruption eating away at the fabric of reality, he would head to Cadia, unsure whether he wanted to be a savior or a thief once more.

There, the Archaeovist would appear before Archmagos Belisarius Cawl and offer his help, asking for nothing in return. He would reveal some information about the origins of the Cadian Pylons and how to control them. With their help, it would be possible to seal the wound in reality and limit the influence of the Dark Gods from the Immaterium.

But Chaos would learn of these plans and strike with all its might to prevent the Eye from closing. The battle over Cadia would be so devastating that the planet would be destroyed, and the defenders would flee into the Webway, leading to the resurrection of Roboute Guilliman.

This was the chance Stas intended to seize.

If the 13th Black Crusade, which was likely already in its final stages, couldn't help him, then Ordyntsev had no other hope.

- "Fine, I can leave," Stas said, looking at the suddenly silent Trazyn in a new light.

- "You'll leave?"

- "Yes, but I have a few… requests."

- "Requests?" The Necron's metallic face couldn't convey emotions, but his voice was more than suspicious.

- "First, I want all the Imperial regiments, commissars, and generals you've collected to leave with us…"

- "No," Trazyn refused instantly. "I didn't collect them just to give them away! They'll die meaninglessly, and the galaxy will lose such unique…"

At that moment, sparks flew across several pedestals, and a ominous rumble echoed from below.

- "Fine, fine!" Trazyn panicked.

- "Second, you'll explain to our Tech-Priests how to use the Cadian Pylons to close the Eye of Terror."

- "Fine," the Necron hissed, his eyes glowing like searchlights as he glared at Stas.

- "And lastly, you'll hand over all living exhibits related to the Imperium. That includes Titans and Space Marines. And a few other things…"

- "NO-O-O-O-O!"

Conditions met +3 Chapters ready