Chapter 1: 'Transmigrating and immediately going to jail is really a stroke of luck''
The Empire's Misty Starfield, Gothic Sector.
Inside an armed escort vehicle bearing the insignia of the Nest City's bailiffs at the capital planet Abyss Port.
"Verify prisoner information. Name: Horatio Cochran, biological age: 16, identity: leader of the 'Labor Gang' in the PW-P-15 giant starport cargo area, arrested six months ago for multiple crimes including murder, smuggling, and organizing strikes, sentence: death penalty…
Information correct, report to Ms. Hood, Commissioner of the Ministry of Justice."
[Death penalty?]
The sensitive words triggered Horatio's professional instincts.
His hood was roughly ripped off, and the stale air mixed with the stench of sweat assaulted his nostrils.
A blinding beam of light shone on Horatio's thin but handsome face, and before he could instinctively flinch, his dry eyelids were roughly ripped open.
His dark blue eyes darted around nervously. He swallowed hard, feeling as if he were swallowing razor blades, his body utterly exhausted.
"Pupil verification confirmed, identity confirmed." The flashlight beam finally disappeared from his sight.
Horatio took a long time to recover. In his blurred vision, he saw the metal prosthetic limb and the shackles on his original left arm. He instantly realized that the prisoner these people were talking about was himself.
[I've transmigrated...?]
He vaguely remembered being injured by a large truck that cut in front of him while assisting in a car chase. Most of his memories were missing, even his real name.
Before he could even process this, a torrent of memories surged through his mind.
Through these memories, Horatio obtained information that left him speechless.
He, the "Cloud Hammer" nurtured by his friends' online emoticons, had arrived in the 41st millennium of the Warhammer universe.
What did this mean?
The great Emperor, symbolizing light and hope, who led humanity on the Galactic Expedition, was stabbed to the Golden Throne—jokingly referred to as the "Golden Toilet" by his 16th son, Horus, the former Imperial Warmaster, during a great rebellion ten thousand years ago.
The Primarchs, powerful enough to be demigods, either betrayed, disappeared, or fell into slumber.
Without the guidance of the Emperor and Primarchs, advanced technology, instead of leading humanity to a greater and more glorious era, plunged human civilization into its darkest abyss through stagnation and blind faith.
If in his previous life he was born in an era of intense competition, where every profession was fiercely contested, at least basic human rights and survival were guaranteed.
But in this dark and desperate 41st millennium, life is devoured both physically and mentally.
Even worse,
it seems only a few years remain before the "Invincible" Emperor launches his thirteenth Black Crusade against the Empire, turning Cadia into a void mine.
[I could accept being in this despised world, and I could accept this living hell, but how did I, a dignified coastal law enforcement officer, become a death row inmate the moment I opened my eyes?!]
Horatio's vision went black. This was truly a stroke of incredible luck—like being hit by a dump truck.
Before this stroke of 'luck,' he was a law enforcement officer whose main job was coastal law enforcement and emergency response, a true and upright member of the ancient Terra flag!
For a law enforcement officer to become a prisoner would break anyone's spirit.
Horatio inwardly groaned, almost screaming, 'I have served the Empire, I have shed blood for Terra! You cannot treat me like this, I want to see the Emperor! I want to see the Emperor!'
Despite the huge fall from grace, as Horatio slowly exhaled a breath of pent-up anger, his mindset adjusted. With
his excellent mental fortitude, he didn't wail and wallow in self-pity like someone whose toes had been stepped on.
He wanted to know what had happened and see if he could use his extensive legal knowledge to defend himself and get a reduced sentence.
Looking back through his memories, he was utterly disillusioned.
He had transmigrated into the body of the 'youngest and most prestigious gang leader in history.'
This young man had lost his memory in a plane crash eight years prior, endured an exceptionally miserable orphanage life, and then struggled for five years in the lower harbor. At 15, he led the exploited port laborers to rise from the ranks of various gangs, earning the title of 'King of the Port District' and bringing a brief respite to the chaotic port population.
He killed only the most heinous criminals, and his so-called smuggling was nothing more than directly buying goods from manufacturers and selling them to the poor. As for organizing strikes, it was simply a matter of public outrage. The
reason he attracted the attention of the city's law enforcement was mainly because he had threatened someone's interests, not because he was 'utterly wicked.'
They planned to arrest him hundreds of times, but each time he cleverly evaded them.
Finally, he was caught taking advantage of someone's vulnerability and imprisoned for a year. Then, for some unknown reason, the Ministry of Justice took over his case from the city's bailiffs.
Horatio's breathing became heavy; he knew very well what this meant.
Forget about a reduced sentence, he didn't even have a chance to defend himself.
If he couldn't escape now, once he entered the Ministry of Justice's fortress, there would be no escape.
Horatio twirled the ring on his iron middle finger and took a deep breath.
[I have to think of something...]
He cautiously glanced around with his tired eyes.
A vehicle full of armed personnel, masked and helmeted, fully armed.
He was tightly sandwiched between two even larger men, experiencing firsthand the meaning of "survival in the cracks." A violent escape was unlikely.
Through the text on the uniform insignia, he could tell that the black and white striped uniforms belonged to the Hive City bailiffs, while the two silver-armored men sandwiching him were escorts from the Imperial Ministry of Justice.
The escorts' fingers were on the triggers of their automatic guns, ready for action. Even through their helmets, he could feel their oppressive, cold gazes.
Based on his years of experience as a law enforcement officer, Horatio had a strange feeling about the Hive City bailiffs sitting opposite him.
—Their eyes were even more tense than his own, a death row inmate.
As he struggled to shift his body, trying to find a slightly more comfortable position that would allow him to observe the entire interior of the vehicle, his elbow accidentally bumped into the waist of the guard on his left.
"What are you doing! You stinking maggot!" The guard, who had been panting impatiently beside him, suddenly erupted in anger, yelling and grabbing his electric riot baton to strike Horatio across the face.
As a well-trained law enforcement officer, Horatio almost instinctively raised his arm to block.
*Zzzzt!*
The sound of metal clashing echoed throughout the small carriage, and a blinding flash of electricity erupted the instant the riot baton struck the metal prosthetic arm.
The guard was shocked—the riot baton in his hand had lost its charge in an instant, while the young man was completely unharmed.
"I just charged this thing full yesterday! What the hell? What did you do, you bastard?!" The guard pressed the shock baton in his hand, his face twisted with disbelief.
Horecio didn't make a sound. He let out a cold snort and lowered his head.
"Heh, had another fight with the wife yesterday, didn't you, mate?"
The guard sitting to Horatio's right chuckled and reminded him, "Calm down. Miss Hood is here. Clean up your act a bit. How about a drink after work?"
"Goddammit... Tch!"
The guard, who had wanted to vent his anger by beating up Horatio, clicked his tongue in displeasure, let out a frustrated sigh, and sat back down.
Horecio kept his head lowered, his azure eyes fixed on the prosthetic limb that had saved him.
Vrr—
A bar on the right prosthetic, resembling an energy gauge, suddenly lit up one segment and emitted a low hum.
[What's this?]
Before Horatio could even process his curiosity, the next moment he found himself in an unfamiliar space.
Everything around him was pitch black, with only his own body emitting a faint glow.
Vrr— There it was again, that strange sound.
A shattered mirror slowly materialized before him, its surface displaying strange symbols. These symbols quickly rearranged into Low Gothic language that Horatio could recognize:
『Confirmed: Child of Darkness』
『Status: Activated』
『Energy: 1/6』
『Psionic Energy: 5/6』
『Corruption: 1/6』
『Soul Fire: 9/10』
After a quick examination, Horatio's eyes widened in astonishment.
It was a talent tree, with something resembling an experience bar beside it.
The 'experience bar' was almost full, and the first skill on the talent tree had been unlocked.
It was a basic skill called "Fragment of Omen."
"Consumes one unit of stored energy, one unit of psionic energy, increases corruption by one unit, reveals fragments of events desired in the short term, passive: omens appear when deadly danger occurs...?" Horatio slowly read the low Gothic text displayed above.
[Come, let me see if things take a turn for the better.]
Horatio stretched out his iron hand, the accumulated energy flowing from his fingertips like a warm current into the fragment, the black-purple bar symbolizing corruption silently rising by one unit.
Several bizarre, fragmented images flashed before his eyes; though brief, the information they contained was shocking enough.
The hive bailiffs around him were indeed imposters; they intended to use Horatio as a demon host to summon the Slaanesh demon to descend upon the world.
[This is something that will happen in the future...?] Horatio frowned.
As a transmigrator, Horatio found it unbelievable, but the original owner of the body's memories were not unfamiliar with this.
In his memory, he was chasing cultists performing a ritual when he was suddenly attacked by a monster. Wounded and losing an arm, he hid in an abandoned monastery of saints, where he obtained this prosthetic limb from a saint's coffin. After transplanting and activating it, it unlocked a special ability called "Fragment of Omen."
Unfortunately, he had lost too much blood at the time, and even though he anticipated the actions of the hive city bailiffs, he was still arrested and imprisoned.
Realizing he was on a bus to hell, cold sweat trickled down Horatio's temples as he nervously stared at the row of fakes opposite him.
[...I must survive.] Suddenly
, the rear hatch opened, interrupting Horatio's thoughts.
A woman, suspended in mid-air using a jetpack, landed lightly on the floor, as graceful as a dragonfly skimming the water.
"Miss Hood," the two guards greeted in unison.
They gave a brief salute for vigilance and to prevent the prisoners from drawing their pistols the moment they stood up.
Horatio turned to look at the newcomer.
Her face was obscured by an advanced holographic combat analyzer and a high-grade air filter. She wore custom-made, meticulously crafted armor, battle-scarred yet impeccably clean.
Because it was custom-made, the chest armor was modeled to fit her body perfectly, and combined with the black, high-grade tactical combat suit beneath, she appeared tall, voluptuous, and strikingly beautiful.
Although the girl was beautiful, she exuded an inexplicable unease, making one instinctively want to keep their distance.
Horatio warily scrutinized her from head to toe. While her physique was mature, her demeanor suggested she was a relatively young woman, perhaps not much older than himself.
However, if she was a legal department specialist, why wasn't she dressed like a RoboCop arbitrator?
And why did the guards address her as "Miss" instead of her title?
The girl approached him, examining something with the analyzer on her head.
Horatio remained impassive, his handcuffed fingers deftly and skillfully gesturing a series of police hand signals.
[There's a mole.]
He was gambling, gambling that 'the ancestral laws cannot be changed.' The
other person took a deep breath, clenched his fist, and looked quite displeased with the meaning conveyed by his small gesture.
Horatio observed the other person's every move, and the moment the other person let out a cold snort, he leaned back in an instant, dodging a punch aimed at his nose.
Thump!
After the punch missed, the girl, like an angry lion, easily pulled up Horatio, who had lived a life of seclusion for a long time and whose body was not much bigger than hers, and slammed him heavily against the bulkhead.
"You are the only one here who has betrayed the Empire, death row inmate number 24601. Who gave you permission to use our sign language!"
The voice, after being amplified by the sonic array device of the respirator, was still as crisp and pleasant as a ringing bell, even though it was roughened by electromagnetic noise.
"You bastard, the person standing in front of you right now is the esteemed Lord Hunter of the Imperial Ministry of Justice, the daughter of the renowned Lord Alexander Hood, Her Excellency Falida Hood! Who the hell are you calling a traitor?!"
The hot-tempered older brother beside him also noticed his little stunt and loudly reprimanded Horatio, his spare stun baton crackling in his hand.
Faced with such a lengthy introduction, Horatio pursed his lips helplessly.
So she's a Lord Hunter of the Imperial Ministry of Justice. No wonder she wasn't wearing the standard armor of an arbitrator, although this set she was wearing was much better.
Among the noble children living in the upper districts, there was no shortage of guys who, for various reasons, acquired a set of cutting-edge custom-made equipment to throw themselves into battle. For mutually beneficial purposes, the Gothic Ministry of Justice established the Lord Hunter of the Imperial Ministry of Justice, an officially recognized force, specifically for handling low-to-medium intensity operations requiring high-tech support. Incidentally, it was also a way
to give these young people a prestigious title, so that they would have a respectable label when they officially entered the military and political system in the future.
But she was so young, clearly lacking the seasoned experience of the arbitrators. Considering the cult's conspiracy, the purpose of sending her to escort was obvious.
[There's a mole in your department, sending you here.] Horatio sighed with sarcasm and helplessness.
Even knowing he might get beaten up, he knew even more clearly that if he didn't do something now, the scenes he saw in his mind would become reality, and everyone would die.
He didn't want to die with them.
To avoid being overheard by the mole, he continued to sign language: [Leave here, call for backup.]
However, the next second, the escort's stun gun lashed out at his waist.
Horatio tried desperately to block with his prosthetic arm, but the handcuffs restricted his movements, and he was unfortunately stabbed.
"Ugh..." The stinging pain of the electric shock, accompanied by numbness, swept through his body, unbearably tingling,
a state of 'ecstasy and agony'. Buzz—the empty energy bar lit up again.
"Do you think anyone from the 'Labor Gang' will save you?" The Huntress grabbed Horatio by the collar, staring into his eyes, her voice turning exceptionally sinister.
"I can tell you very clearly, Horatio Cochrane. The criminal organization you built has crumbled, its assets have been divided up by other gangs, and it has bred a whole bunch of maggots that we need to deal with. But before that, the sword of justice will strike you down."
"After a year in jail, I was suddenly transferred to the Ministry of Justice. Don't you find that strange?"
Horatio's voice was very low, so low that only the Huntress could hear it through the radio system.
The Huntress loosened her grip on his collar.
The young man's question had indeed struck a nerve.
Normally, the Ministry of Justice would either arrest thugs first and then try them, or have the gangs bring over the wanted bodies themselves.
The fortress's precious cell space was reserved for the most heinous, top-tier criminals.
The scum caught by the Hive City Enforcement Department wouldn't be transferred to the Ministry of Justice.
Therefore, she was puzzled for a while after receiving the briefing.
"I'll find out in the Ministry of Justice's interrogation room,"
Horatio sneered, his cold, serious azure eyes fixed on the Huntress's tactical goggles.
"Because this vehicle can't even reach the Ministry of Justice. Think about it, why didn't those Hive City bailiffs react to my tactical hand signals the entire time?"
The Huntress instantly realized something, releasing Horatio's grip. Before she could react, her arm was twisted behind her back. The
Hive City bailiffs sitting opposite her suddenly stood up, one of them pulling out a heavy-duty pistol and firing directly at the right-hand guard's face.
Bang!