Unlucky isekai? (Warhammer 40000)

The Emperor's Shield protected much of the Imperium, preventing Warp storms from sweeping through the Segmentums, sowing death and destruction. 

But the Emperor was not the only force opposing the Warp. As mentioned earlier, there were the Chaos Gods, who did not desire the complete destruction of their own realms, but there were others as well. 

The vast diversity of Ork worlds generated a powerful psychic energy that birthed their own gods. Gork and Mork struck the Warp storms together, weakening them for their own worlds. 

However, the Ork gods only weakened the storms enough to ensure the Orks' survival, but not enough to prevent Warp breaches and the daemons pouring out of them. After all, how could the Ork gods dare to limit a "good scrap" for their faithful?

Unfortunately for the rest of the galaxy, which lacked such prominent defenders, they had to rely on their own strength to survive. 

Though the Tau did not use Warp technology and thus avoided the problems faced by the Imperium, the sharply increased concentration of the raging Warp affected them as well. 

On many worlds of the Tau Empire, chaotic portals began to open, bringing only destruction. 

The calm and self-assured Tau state faced a crisis unlike anything they had encountered before. And the big question was whether they could handle something like this. 

More interestingly, the Warp storms managed to affect one of, if not the greatest, threats in the galaxy. 

The destructive wave of the Warp, breaking into reality, struck directly at the invading forces of the Tyranids. 

Yes, the Tyranids had their trump card in the form of the "Shadow in the Warp," which nullified any Warp energy. But the flow of energy was too strong even for this ability. The power of the slain god was mighty in itself, and it was further amplified and redirected by the Emperor. 

The Warp struck the endless tide of Tyranids and began to open portals without limit, through which poured an equally endless stream of daemons. 

The fearless Tyranids eagerly rushed at the new enemy, intending to tear them apart and consume them... But what a cruel irony. The Tyranids and daemons turned out to be the worst possible opponents for each other. 

The Tyranids could not feed on the ephemeral Warp-stuff from which the denizens of the Empyrean were made. The Hive Mind, that unknowable entity, felt no terror and was immune to the corruption of the Warp. Thus, the two greatest predators were left to fight relentlessly against each other for the right to defile the vast reserves of mortal flesh in the galaxy. 

A meaningless and endless war, the existence of which was nevertheless an incredible boon for all other life. For such Warp breaches slowed, and in some places even halted, the advancing swarms of Tyranids. 

But let us return to the Imperium. 

Though the Emperor's sacrifice was not in vain, his protection was not perfect. By sacrificing the ability to rise from the Golden Throne, the Eternal One created a shield over the Imperium, but even so, cracks and gaps occasionally appeared in this shield, through which the Warp broke into the real world. 

Yes, it was not the horror faced by the Tyranids or the Tau, but the warriors of the Imperium suddenly found themselves with a lot of work to do. 

Nevertheless, our current interest lies in a single palace on Holy Terra. More precisely, the residence of a Lord Inquisitor specializing in the study of daemons and methods of their complete destruction. 

Being a radical, Rufin Ullis did not shy away from summoning and capturing daemons, conducting monstrously forbidden magic to create daemonhosts. 

Rufin had twenty-five underground levels, though officially there were only twenty. The remaining five were highly secret and classified, known to very few. 

It was there that Ullis conducted his work on daemonhosts, capturing and imprisoning many powerful daemons. 

When the wave of Warp energy swept through the galaxy, the daemons, bound in magical chains, received the influx of energy they so desperately needed. 

The cruel and vengeful denizens of the Empyrean thirsted for revenge, and they had more than enough strength until the fragile bodies of their containing shells finally broke. 

***** 

Stas slowly opened his eyes, feeling his sarcophagus slowly open and release him. 

Thinking after such a long sleep was difficult, and his thoughts flowed slowly and sluggishly, which was why the blaring alarm did not immediately register in his mind. 

"Ugh, this sucks," Ordyntsev grimaced and coughed. His mouth felt incredibly foul, and his stomach was going crazy from hunger. By the feel of it, Stas hadn't eaten for about a day or two. Thankfully, the IVs stuck in his arms and legs weren't just pumping him full of sedatives: "Wait a minute." 

His vision sharpened, and he narrowed his eyes: "Why the hell am I still alive?! And if I'm alive, where's the interrogation and the Inquisitor?! Wait, is that an alarm?!"

The piercing, wailing sound didn't stop for a second, only changing in amplitude, growing quieter, then louder again. 

Stas immediately knew that whatever was happening wasn't good. 

"I was supposed to be brought here, interrogated, and then quietly and peacefully executed. Even if I were acquitted, no one would take me back. So, what the hell is this alarm? Seriously? An attack on the Inquisitor's residence? Or maybe even on fucking Terra? Come on, tell me Horus has risen and is besieging the Emperor's palace again!" 

Without the sedatives flowing into him, Stas felt the IV needles burning his muscles and skin, so with a grit of his teeth, he began pulling out the deeply embedded needles. 

"For mom, ouch! For dad, ugh! For... Oh, that went deep!" Finally, the last needle left his long-suffering body, and Ordyntsev pulled himself out of the sarcophagus. 

His bare feet touched the cold metal floor, but Ordyntsev wasn't too concerned about that. 

The question remained: why had the sarcophagus opened, and why had the sedatives stopped flowing? But the past months had taught Stas not to ask stupid questions. 

The Warhammer universe was stubbornly trying to drive him to the brink, and Ordyntsev was determined to tell it to go to hell, ignoring its continued attempts. 

Stas listened, trying to figure out what was happening, and what he heard didn't please him. From somewhere in the distance came explosions, gunfire, screams, and an eerie, otherworldly howl. 

The cell shook, and dust fell from the ceiling as something exploded with particular force. Whatever was happening, everyone was having a grand old time. 

Ordyntsev indifferently glanced around the cell and saw nothing but the sarcophagus inside. The heavy steel door was closed, and it didn't seem like he could escape from here. 

"Well, great," Stas remarked with satisfaction. "Sooner or later, the attackers will be destroyed, and then they'll deal with me. They might even consider me already corrupted and execute me on the spot. Besides, I can't get out of here anyway..." 

A powerful flash blinded him for a couple of seconds, and the subsequent sound deafened Stas, forcing him to cover his face with his hands and blink rapidly. The rising dust made him cough violently. 

Finally, the dancing spots in his vision disappeared, and Ordyntsev gloomily looked at the nearly torn-off door, hanging on a single hinge. Whatever force had done this, it had also opened the way for Stas to freedom. With the door open, the sounds of battle became much clearer, and occasionally the reflections of lasgun shots could be seen. 

"Nope," Ordyntsev demonstratively crossed his arms over his chest and sat more comfortably on the sarcophagus's protruding stand. "I'm not moving. So, shove this escape plan up your ass." 

At that very moment, as he said this, black smoke from a fire began to seep into the cell. 

"Ha, even better," Stanislav smirked. "I'll suffocate, then." 

For a couple of seconds, the smoke continued to flow in until the fire suppression system activated outside, and the fire began to die down. 

"Playing small, huh?" Ordyntsev snorted smugly, leaning back against the sarcophagus door. 

The gunfire in the hallway finally died down, replaced by an eerie silence, flashes of electricity, and the crackling of severed cables. 

That's why the slow, shuffling footsteps sounded deafeningly loud. 

*Squelch.* 

*Squelch.* 

*Squelch.* 

A shadow appeared right in front of Stas's cell door, and Ordyntsev watched with interest as the shadow trembled, twisted, and began to grow, clearly mocking whoever was watching it. 

Another step, and Stanislav got a full view of the intruder. 

An almost completely naked body, covered in hundreds of mystical symbols, pierced with metal hooks, hung with pages from sacred codices, and draped in chains. The daemonhost's bald head sported several mismatched horns, and its eyes glowed with a sinister red light. 

The final important detail was the fresh blood covering it, which, defying the laws of physics, didn't drip to the floor but flowed across its body in all directions. 

"And who do we have here, interesting?" the daemon asked slyly, licking its pitch-black lips and squinting its fiery eyes. 

"And what's so interesting about me?" Stas asked indifferently, causing the daemonhost to hesitate for a moment before suspiciously scanning the cell.

The daemon felt not a trace of fear from the man sitting before him, which was more than suspicious. And though he had broken free and killed many of the Inquisition's soldiers, the daemon wasn't about to underestimate the damned Inquisitors. Not after spending thirty years in this cursed basement! 

The daemonhost froze at the entrance, not daring to step inside. 

"Well," the daemon bared its teeth. "When I opened the other prisoners' cells, they all rushed out and joined the fun. Sure, they died brutal deaths at my hands, but not before they got a taste of blessed slaughter. But not you. You stayed inside. Why? Satisfy my curiosity before the end." 

"Why should I leave?" Stas countered with a question of his own. "I came here to die, so I was going to wait for the Inquisitors, who would eventually clear out this dungeon." 

"You're waiting for them... to die?" the daemon repeated slowly, then laughed happily, causing the world around him to tremble and lose its clear outlines, replaced by something alien and vile. "It's been a long time since I've seen such an amusing little human! You know, given what's happened,

I..." 

"Wait, wait, wait," Stas interrupted the daemon sharply. "You weren't about to say something stupid about sparing me because of all this, were you? Emperor's pauldrons, you're a daemon! You're supposed to bring death and destruction to everyone without exception!" 

Stas's demanding gaze locked onto the daemon's fiery eyes, and an awkward silence hung between them, growing more uncomfortable with each passing second. 

"Your impudence, human, will be your downfall!" the daemon roared, engulfed in raging flames. The floor beneath its feet began to glow red and gradually melt. Its bony horns were covered in red energy, increasing its height by a full head. "But now you won't die so easily!" 

"Yes, yes!" Stas exclaimed joyfully, leaning forward and eagerly watching the scene before him. "Do it, then!" 

Hearing such a bold challenge, the daemonhost took a step into the cell, then froze again, scanning the room once more. Every sense screamed at the daemon that there was some kind of trick here. It couldn't be this simple, but he stubbornly saw nothing. 

Meanwhile, Ordyntsev frowned, feeling a strange tingling inside him. 

At first, he thought it was from the daemon's presence, but with each passing second, he became more certain that it wasn't that. 

"Hey, daemon-face, you'd better hurry," Stas said, glancing around suspiciously like the daemon.

"You know, in case something happens?" 

"Don't order me around, human!" the daemon took another step, and Stas felt the sensation intensify even more. 

"Damn it!" Ordyntsev panicked as he felt something tearing out from within him, and it was getting harder and harder to resist. "Hit me, you daemon bastard, hit me before it's too late!" 

The daemon, finally fed up with the strange situation, threw caution to the wind and took the final steps, bringing its clawed hand down on the impudent bug's head with all its might. Earlier, such blows had punched through half-meter-thick plasteel doors. 

The fist was almost upon Stas's head when Ordyntsev finally lost the battle against the inner sensation. 

The man's eyes flashed gold. 

**BOOM!** 

Golden energy flooded the cell so intensely that the steel walls ignited and flowed like lava, but the daemonhost had it the worst. 

It managed to scream something like "Anathema!" before the wave of energy atomized it, and the daemon's essence burned forever under the power of Order. There was nothing left to return to the Warp, so the daemon met its final death. 

The one who had been sitting on the sarcophagus's footrest slowly rose. 

His figure seemed to have grown slightly taller, his skin taking on a purity and warm, pleasant hue that was hard to describe. His opened eyes released a stream of unearthly energy in the form of golden rays, which would have been difficult for a mortal to even look at. 

Stas looked down at his hands in bewilderment, from which a soft, barely visible light emanated.

This lasted until something strange appeared at the edge of his vision. 

Turning his head, Ordyntsev looked over his shoulder, and his jaw dropped. 

Now, behind him, two huge, snow-white wings swayed, so pure that even the whitest paper couldn't come close to such divine purity. 

Where the wings touched the molten walls, which showed no signs of solidifying, deep cavities were left, but it didn't seem like the mystical wings were taking any damage. 

And Stas himself, despite floating a couple of centimeters above the bubbling molten steel, felt no heat or pain. If he wanted to plunge his hand into the flowing wall, he would take no damage. 

But the changes to his body were far from the only transformations. His internal physiology had also undergone serious changes. Whatever diseases, flaws, or errors had been hidden in his genetic code were now completely corrected. 

The speed of information processing, memory quality, reaction time—all of it had reached a completely new level, unattainable by ordinary humans. 

Stas saw and heard more than he had ever wanted to, but the sheer volume of sensory information didn't bother or confuse him in the slightest. 

The birth of a Living Saint of the Emperor was accompanied by so much energy that the attacking daemon had no chance of survival. 

Suddenly, the entire body of the floating Saint tensed as one thought finally reached his mind. 

"Saint Celestine... That's her name, right? And she came back? So, death might not work on Living Saints the first time around." 

The Living Saint's eyes began to emit more and more Warp energy, as the surrounding cell cracked and burst under the onslaught of psychic power. The collapsing flow split in two, bypassing the blazing divine figure. 

The glowing halo grew so bright that anyone who looked at it for too long would go blind. 

Finally, the accumulating rage burst forth in the form of a golden dome radiating in all directions, breaking through to the next floor. Massive chunks of debris fell around, but Stas didn't care. 

Far more important was his thunderous cry, so harmonious and holy that it made one want to weep and kneel in prayer: 

"Emperor, you BASTARD! Take your gift back!"