After returning to Chaldea.
Each team member underwent a basic physical examination.
Gudako—aka Gudazi—and Mash were declared completely normal. No surprise there, considering their roles in this singularity were more like cheerleaders: shouting snide comments and mocking enemies from a distance, without engaging in any real combat.
In fact, Gudazi even gained two kilograms from reckless snacking aboard Dafeng's ship.
Meanwhile, the main focus was on Reuel.
The way he had formed contracts with three Heroic Spirits simultaneously was enough to silence the world. So it was no surprise that Dr. Roman and Leonardo da Vinci stepped in immediately, deploying various magical and technological instruments to examine him thoroughly.
"It looks like you adapt very easily to all kinds of magic," Roman remarked while staring at the monitor. "Besides Fujimaru Ritsuka, you're the most flexible Master I've ever seen."
Da Vinci nodded, then added, "No… actually, your data and Ritsuka's are nearly identical. Both at peak levels—100%. But there's one major difference: you're not using any of this world's power systems."
She stared hard at Reuel.
"In my opinion… you're not human."
When the full results of Reuel's physical exam came up, both Roman and Da Vinci could only gape.
A hundred thousand question marks practically popped up over their heads.
From a physiological perspective, Reuel's cardio-pulmonary functions, grip strength, muscle output, and endurance capacity were all far beyond human limits. Even by Heroic Spirit standards, the gap was like comparing an elephant to an ant—and that was still an understatement.
Not to mention his resistance to attacks. Not just magical ones—even conventional light firearms left no mark. Heavy artillery? Might as well be blowing on a metal wall.
"Ahem. I'm a Gundam. But you can also call me… Ship Daddy," Reuel said casually, sending the room into a half-second of stunned silence.
Then he continued, "Anyway… my Command Seals are kinda different from a normal Master's, right?"
Da Vinci took his right hand and examined it closely.
The three shield-shaped Command Seals had previously been used by Artoria (aka Burger King) when she activated Curry Stick Excalibur. Strangely, the seals had fully recovered.
"They seem to restore one per day… just like Gudazi's," Reuel said with a shrug.
He truly did feel like the male version of Gudazi: no real grasp of magecraft, highly adaptable, and even his Command Seal system was nearly identical.
No wonder Fujimaru Ritsuka kept stalking him everywhere he went.
"People from other worlds really do have entirely different power systems than ours…" Da Vinci muttered, a mix of awe and curiosity in her voice.
"I heard you and the shipgirls came from a different universe. And because you swallowed a Mental Cube, they became even more bound to you."
Da Vinci continued with a rapid string of technical explanations, jotting down concepts that even she probably didn't fully understand yet.
"If given the chance, I'd love to study the Mental Cubes from Azur Lane's world—those things that power the shipgirls. Their energy output is massive. Far beyond anything I've ever encountered in this world…"
Then she stared deep into Reuel, as if trying to peer through the outer layers of reality.
"But… there's one more type of energy I want to ask you about. That energy… is terrifying."
Her gaze turned serious.
"Every time you use it, your pupils glow like miniature suns. That energy contains something… horrifying. Human emotions in their rawest form—rage, destruction, despair, hatred, and who knows what else."
She paused for a moment. Her next words came slowly, as if more to herself than to anyone else.
"It feels like witnessing a war that never ends."
Leonardo da Vinci fell silent, but her eyes still burned with curiosity—toward the dark power Reuel kept hidden within him.
Of course, Reuel would never tell them the truth about it—
especially not to Roman and Da Vinci from Naruserve.
He knew exactly what Da Vinci was referring to—psionic energy, the direct legacy of the Emperor of Mankind.
And Reuel wasn't an idiot. He understood all too well the risks that would arise if these two genius scientists—driven by an obsession bordering on madness—started experimenting with that power.
Sooner or later, the Chaos Gods would sense the presence of that energy. If they found even the slightest crack in the fabric of reality… they would come for Reuel. No matter where he went. Even if he crossed dimensions and fled to an entirely different universe.
Chaos knows no boundaries.
They do not care for the laws of nature, for life, or for logic.
They exist solely to destroy order.
If they ever found remnants of the Old Ones or C'tan, they'd use them as a bridge—a point of entry to pollute another universe.
Even though Games Workshop officially stated that the Old Ones had gone extinct, vanished without a trace, Reuel couldn't just accept that. He still remembered the fan theories from forums in his old life—theories that the Old Ones didn't truly die. They might be hiding in the Warp, or in an alternate reality beyond human perception.
As for the C'tan… they were still alive—but no longer whole. After betraying the Necrontyr and absorbing their life force, the C'tan became tyrants of the galaxy. But thousands of years later, the Necrons turned against them.
The C'tan were shattered one by one, beaten back, and dismantled into thousands of fragments.
They are now known as C'tan Shards—broken cosmic entities, chained, imprisoned, and repurposed as weapons or power sources by the Necrons.
It was this very conflict that eventually gave birth to the Chaos Gods—and unleashed a never-ending cycle of war upon humanity in the Warhammer 40k universe.
Enemies of the Imperium of Man came from every direction. It was as if humanity was surrounded from all corners of existence. But that's exactly what Warhammer was meant to be, according to the grim vision built by Games Workshop—endless war, corrupt bureaucracy, and uncountable sacrifices for the survival of mankind.
Even with a population in the quadrillions, it was never enough to meet the military, logistical, and administrative demands. Planets were constantly being depopulated due to war, sacrifice, or Warp-related annihilation.
That's why Reuel chose to remain silent.
He was fully aware that he wasn't strong enough—yet—to face the enemies from the Warhammer universe.
And until that day came, the truth about psionic energy and the existence of Chaos had to remain sealed.
His mind returned to the present. He looked at Da Vinci and finally answered the question she had asked earlier.
> "That's classified information, so I can't share it. But… if you ever join the Imperium of Man,
then we can talk all you want,"
Reuel said with a calm smile.
Reuel was lying.
He was trying to subtly influence Da Vinci and the other Servants to join the Imperium. A gentle maneuver, wrapped in rhetoric and false conviction.
But beneath that calm smile burned a deep curiosity—especially toward Da Vinci's artificial body experiment.
How could a Heroic Spirit reside in an artificial body and then interact, think, and feel like a real human?
He wanted to try it. Not just imitate it—surpass it.
He wanted to create a synthetic body for Artoria Pendragon, and then transfer the Heroic Spirit's soul into it. Turn her into a real human. Not an illusion, not a spiritual entity bound by his psionic energy—but a true human being. With blood and flesh.
Was it possible?
Of course. He was the direct heir to the scientific legacy of the Emperor of Mankind. Even now, with only fifty percent of his power unlocked, Reuel felt he was already close to that goal. If he reached his full strength—then it would be easily within his grasp.
In the history of Warhammer 40k, the Emperor wasn't just a leader. He was the most powerful psionic entity to ever exist—born from the sacrifice of millions of ancient shamans who merged into a single soul.
He could manipulate souls, forge bodies from spiritual matter, purify entities, and even create life from nothingness.
The Primarchs were not just superhumans. They were the result of spiritual-biological synthesis—DNA, soul, and Warp energy twisted and rewoven to form beings that transcended life itself.
Even if that was just Reuel's personal theory—and the theories of Warhammer fans from his past life—
after all, Games Workshop had never fully explained how the Primarchs were created in the first place.
But if the Emperor could create all of that…
Then creating an artificial body to host a Heroic Spirit was not impossible.
Reuel knew that Heroic Spirits were only bound by the metaphysical system called the Throne of Heroes. But with the knowledge he now possessed, he was confident he could hack that system, force its structure to change, and bind the soul into a new body—turning legends of the past into living, breathing people.
After the physical examination by Da Vinci and Dr. Roman was concluded, it was Roman who took the initiative.
Calmly, he led a group of Chaldea staff toward the main library.
"As a token of our gratitude for helping resolve the singularity, here's a gift from Chaldea. As per our agreement," said Dr. Roman, gesturing toward a long table piled with books.
More than a dozen thick tomes were neatly stacked in front of Reuel. But that wasn't all—towering bookshelves surrounded him, holding thousands of other surviving manuscripts. Most were ancient, their yellowed, curling pages giving away their age. A few were even written in classical Latin.
Reuel eyed them all with focused attention. The large eyes on his face scanned the entire room like a sensor.
Chaldea's library had once been vast. Everything from traditional Magecraft to Magi-Tech fusion techniques based on Rayshift could be found there. Unfortunately, after the massive explosion that had once shaken the facility, much of its precious collection had gone up in flames.
"We've sorted through what remains," Roman said. "Take a look. You might find something that interests you."
Reuel stepped closer. The Naruserve magical system was complex—full of technical jargon and metaphysical structures unfamiliar to most people. But to him, it was easy to grasp. His mastery over psionic energy gave him a solid foundation to understand magic systems from any universe.
Rather than dabbling in everything, Reuel preferred a specialist approach. He wanted to deeply study a single branch of magic and implement it within the Imperium of Man's educational framework—naturally, with strict oversight on every experiment conducted.
Da Vinci, standing beside him, picked up several books from the pile.
"These cover the basics of Magecraft. Including methods of transplanting magic circuits and the system of Command Spells," she explained.
"If you can understand this, turning yourself—or someone else—into a magic user won't be difficult."
She handed the book to Reuel.
Most mages in the Naruserve world were born with innate ability. Without magic circuits, one couldn't access magic at all. Luckily, Reuel had overcome that limitation using his Mental Cube and psionic energy. But for ordinary civilians in the Imperium, gaining access to magic would be a major hurdle.
Reuel flipped through the first few pages.
"I want to make magic a mandatory subject in future schools," he muttered.
This material was equivalent to basic knowledge from the Moon Cell world—perfect for a civilization like the Imperium of Man, which was now experimenting with the concept of Naruserve magic. Beyond being an alternative power source to Warp, Reuel hoped this knowledge could reduce their dependency on such a dangerous and corrosive energy.
Da Vinci handed him several more books.
"This one's on gem magic and a few high-level sorcery techniques."
"If there's anything you don't understand, just ask. I can explain most of it. But if it's too complicated, don't force it."
Reuel took them and began flipping through. Gem magic—the concept of storing magical power in gemstones and releasing it when needed. Efficient and deadly. Rin Tohsaka was a well-known practitioner of this school.
"Like a rifle, but way more elegant," Reuel thought. He nodded and put the book aside.
After checking the rest of the pile, most of the texts didn't catch his interest. But one old book bearing the emblem of the Holy Church caught his eye.
"That's a baptismal chant," Dr. Roman said as he noticed. "The only type of magic officially sanctioned by the Church to deal with spiritual entities or the undead."
"Interesting to you?"
Roman looked surprised. Up to this point, Reuel hadn't shown any interest in religious matters.
"If I'm not mistaken," Reuel said, narrowing his eyes, "this was used by Amakusa when facing the Grand Duke. Even Kotomine Kirei used it, didn't he?"
He remembered—this kind of magic was specifically designed to purge vampires, the undead, and other unnatural beings. While it wasn't as flashy as other combat magic, its effectiveness against spiritual entities made it a weapon worth keeping.
"I'll take it," he said simply.
Reuel planned to modify the spell so it would work on Warp entities—vile creatures from the Warhammer universe so abominable that even Inquisitors hesitated to speak their names aloud. He imagined a future where Grey Knights could wield this magic to hunt daemons of Chaos. Maybe even the Adepta Sororitas—the fanatical Battle Sisters—could be trained to use it.
One step closer to a world where magic and psionic technology coexisted, controlled by humanity… not the other way around.
Reuel was still consumed by curiosity about the source of the Adepta Sororitas' power. In his previous life, this topic had always sparked heated debate among Warhammer fans. Broadly speaking, their power system stemmed from unwavering faith in the God Emperor, and apparently, the Immaterium—the chaotic spiritual realm—actually responded to their prayers.
But, as always, that bastard Games Workshop deliberately kept it all shrouded in mystery. They never gave a clear answer, letting Warhammer lore remain open to interpretation, fueling endless arguments across grimdark-loving forums.
Biologically speaking, the Adepta Sororitas were just regular humans. They didn't possess an active Soul Presence like psykers, and they clearly couldn't wield warp powers like Smite, telepathy, or psychic blasts. And yet, the power behind Acts of Faith often defied all logic.
Take one example: a Sister Superior gets hit by a point-blank plasma shot and remains standing, unfazed, before slicing down a Chaos Champion who had previously wiped out a full company of PDF and a squad of Guardsmen. Then there's Saint Celestine—resurrected from death, flying unaided, and burning daemons to ash just by existing.
To Reuel—and, of course, to hardcore fans—none of this could be explained by science. They saw it as miracles, divine intervention from the God Emperor, or a manifestation of collective faith channelled through the Immaterium. That's what made Warhammer so fascinating to Reuel—far more than any other game or franchise with overly rational worldbuilding. Its ambiguity was its strength. Games Workshop never spelled everything out—and that was very much intentional. They left space for fans' imaginations to build, challenge, and argue over their own interpretations of the lore.
While Reuel was still lost in thought, the shipgirls of Azur Lane had started wandering the library, browsing through the shelves.
"Isn't there any stronger magic?" one of them asked in a disappointed tone.
Their expectations had been high. They imagined they'd find Excalibur, built-in anti-magic barriers, or an arsenal of Noble Phantasms. Instead, all they saw were dusty old magic books filled with what looked like dry, underwhelming theory—nothing compared to the firepower already built into their naval-weaponized bodies.
"That's the Noble Phantasm of a Heroic Spirit, and only they can wield it," Dr. Roman explained, responding to their complaint.
"Here, traditional magic and modern magic are two very different things," he added, shaking his head slightly.
Dr. Roman patiently explained to them:
"If technology can achieve the same phenomenon as magic, then that technology is considered magic. For example, a mage might use gem magic to pierce armor plating—whereas you can do the same with a naval cannon. So for you, that's magic."
He continued, his tone shifting to something a little more serious.
"Only things that science absolutely cannot achieve should be called true magic. And as of now... only five of those remain."
"....."
Reuel looked fairly impressed after studying some of the magic spells shown to him.
One method that caught his attention was the Third Magic, the Heaven's Cup—the process used during the Fuyuki Holy Grail War. Then there was the Second Magic, which involved the observation and traversal of parallel worlds—a power quite similar to his own.
As for the other methods, all Reuel could do was hope that one day he'd get the chance to meet Aozaki Aoko in person and ask her more about them.
"Also, here are some manuscript designs for the Spiritron Calculator," Dr. Roman said, handing over a stack of diagrams to Reuel.
"This tool was originally created by the Atlas Institute. But after the incineration of humanity, the Atlas Institute vanished from history, and the full design of the device disappeared along with it."
He added, "Only a few original manuscripts remain in Chaldea. As per our previous agreement, I'm handing all of them over to you."
Reuel accepted the documents with a serious expression. He was indeed deeply interested in a device that could project souls into the past. With such technology, countless extraordinary things could be achieved.
However, his eyes narrowed slightly as he examined the documents.
"Is this information incomplete?..." he muttered under his breath, a little disappointed.
If only he could complete all seven singularities and save humanity, maybe he'd be granted access to the full blueprints hidden within the Astra Courtyard.
But in a world that had already faced apocalypse, there wasn't much left to ask for. All he could do now was place his hopes on the hard work of Akashi, Universal Bulin, and the Tech-Priests of the Mechanicus to find a way to restore the device.
After all, of course the Tech-Priests were excited. With this device, anyone could travel back to the past and copy all the knowledge from the Dark Age of Technology in the Warhammer 40K universe—an opportunity beyond priceless, even by their tech-maniac standards.
After gathering enough data from Chaldea, Reuel felt he had the information he needed to continue his mission.
With some final packing and preparations for the launch system, they began to plot their way home.
---
One morning.
Reuel, accompanied by the Azur Lane shipgirls and the Heroic Spirits, arrived at Chaldea's main lobby to say farewell to the staff who had helped them.
"I'll also find a way to help you crack the remaining six singularities," Reuel told Roman. "Let me know if you uncover any new leads."
"So, until next time," he added.
Everyone waved, offering their warm goodbyes...
...then suddenly, the mood turned strange.
"Eh?!"
The Chaldea staff suddenly noticed that Fujimaru Ritsuka and Mash Kyrielight were now standing in line behind Reuel—as if they were already part of his team.
"Fujimaru Ritsuka, what are you doing?! You're going with them too?!" Roman shouted in panic.
Roman and Da Vinci rushed toward Gudako—Ritsuka's nickname—faces full of questions.
"I'm going with him... to ride a Gundam," Gudako said flatly, deadpan.
"Wait, what?! Aren't you Chaldea's commander?! You're leaving HQ just because of... a Gundam?!"
Gudako shrugged.
"Wait, what?! Aren't you Chaldea's commander?! You're leaving HQ just because of... a Gundam?!"
Gudako shrugged.
"Earth's already ruined. The space in Chaldea is tiny and boring... what's the point?" she said, her tone logical, deadpan, and infuriating all at once.
"???"
Roman was stunned. Da Vinci massaged her temples.
"Where's your sense of responsibility, Gudako...?!"
"Who says the Master has to stay in Chaldea all the time?" Gudako continued casually. "Why not just create an offline Master system?"
Her reasoning was so solid that Roman couldn't respond immediately.
"Usually I'd stay here, but if a new singularity shows up, I'll come back. Relax. If there's urgent news, just send it through a Drifting Bottle, right?"
With that, Gudako clenched her fist, broke into a run, and jumped straight into the space-time portal behind Reuel.
"?!"
Roman and Da Vinci exchanged stunned glances.
"What the hell...? Chaldea's commander... just got kidnapped...?!"
"Instead of learning magic... she ran off to another world to ride a damn Gundam?!" Roman practically choked on his own breath.