Chapter 1: Cast Away

This work is purely fanfiction and doesn't have any relation to the property of Game Workshop or DC.

I don't own Warhammer 40k or DC.

All rights are reserved to those Companies.

Rated M and 18 Plus for Violent and Sexual Content.

Cover Art by arielscar_art on Instagram.

[===============]

Chapter 1: Cast Away.

Unknown Place.

Unknown Time.

Yeong Maxwell or Yeong POV.

Cough!*

Cough!*

Cough!*

Gasping for air, I heave with violent coughs, removing my fractured helmet to expel a mixture of blood and bile onto the damp sand. Ejected from an ephemeral greenish portal, which vanished as swiftly as it appeared, I felt a searing pain in my chest, as if my lungs were smoldering with molten agony, and my stomach roiled with unease.

Once the worst of the retching subsided, I used my armored sleeve to clear the remnants from my mouth, then attempted to rise, planting my hands firmly in the sand. But my effort was short-lived; the servos in my power armor seized, jerking erratically, and I collapsed, my face pressed against the cool grains. Darkness encroached upon my vision, and I succumbed to unconsciousness, enveloped by the sand's embrace.

Memories of my former existence once again surged with newfound clarity, replaying before me in a relentless loop, each scene more lucid than the last. The faces of my family, the camaraderie of friends, the Alaskan wilderness, my ambitions, and the stumbles along the way—all flickered in my mind's eye.

Bora… my twin, her image the most poignant of all.

But as quickly as they had come, the memories dissipated, leaving a void filled with a poignant yearning. I hovered on the brink of consciousness, adrift in a sea of disorientation.

A groan broke from my lips as awareness crept back in, my eye blurred and every muscle aching. With effort, I propped myself up, and as the fog of confusion lifted, the world around me materialized. For the first time, the air was devoid of the stench of war; it looked like a beach, fringed by verdant forests. The air was balmy, the ocean's rhythm soothing.

"Where in the Emperor's name am I?" I wondered aloud. "How did I arrive here? Am I dead? No, death would not grant me this corporeal form, this acute pain. Could Tzeentch have spared me from his fury? Impossible. Or could it be that I've been granted another chance, just as before? No, that cannot be. Unless…"

Clad in my auramite-alloy reinforced power armor, marred yet unbroken, I stood bereft of arms and gear, the familiar insignia nowhere to be found. Contemplation gripped me as I grappled with the ramifications of my stark anonymity.

Heaving a laden breath, I surveyed the pristine expanse before me. The servos of my golden armor hummed a faint but steadfast rhythm, my golden helmet tucked between my arms, a small solace in this untouched wilderness. Life teemed around me, not of sentient kind, but the simple harmonies of nature—a tranquil haven from the cacophony of war.

I meandered without purpose, tracing the coastline's curve, eyes sweeping across the horizon for any hint of civilization. The sea's breeze was a balm, tinged with the ocean's essence, and the sun's embrace was a gentle reprieve, its rays a tender caress.

Questions danced in my mind with each step upon the sandy shore. How did I come to be here? What secrets did this place hold? Was I the sole castaway in this serene isolation? Could I ever find my way back to the Imperium? Or was this an unforeseen grace, a chance to redefine my existence, to begin anew, unchained from duty's relentless demand?

My journey brought me full circle, back to the realization that I was confined to an island—a notion both captivating and daunting, for it spelled a dim prospect for salvation. I weighed my situation and the potential outcomes of my unforeseen sojourn.

Inland I ventured, where the verdure thickened and the earth's countenance grew wild. Upon the island's pinnacle, I stood solitary, my gaze cast over the ceaseless sea—a lone guardian in the midst of an apathetic expanse. Then, I turned to make my descent.

I traversed the terrain, embraced by solitude. The island was a tapestry of life, unmarred by human touch, its valleys lush, its peaks regal, its grottos peaceful. The stillness was a balm, a stark contrast to the relentless din of battle.

With determination renewed, I embarked on a quest to chart this land, to uncover any sign or clue that might lead back to civilization. Amidst my journey, a glint of gold caught my eye, nestled within the foliage—my Paragon Spear, a symbol of loyalty to the Emperor and emblematic of my rank.

This venerable artifact, a boon from the Emperor himself, was a masterpiece beyond even my Custodian armor. It had been an ever-present ally, now its absence was deeply felt. The vista of its lustrous form ignited a flame of hope within me amidst the shroud of doubt.

Grasping it, I found solace in its familiar presence, a beacon in the wilds. With its weight in hand, I vowed to forge a path from this isle, convinced that an exit lay waiting to be found. Time marched on, and I pressed deeper into the island's embrace.

A full day's passage marked the completion of my survey of the isle, its wild contours, and the living denizens now familiar. Yet, the absence of intelligent presence was stark; no footprints marred the earth, no structures broke the horizon, and not even the simplest craft of fishers graced the waters. I contemplated this void and its link to my unforeseen arrival—no colony's mark, no human hand had shaped this verdure.

In this moment of solitude, the full weight of my seclusion bore down upon me. This was not a mere deviation in the cosmic sea, not just an unexpected pause in a grand voyage. This was an island, a secluded haven, a world unto itself, removed from the galaxy's embrace.

I stood alone. Alone and forsaken, cast away by destiny's whims, confined to an isle, my future uncertain. The burden was palpable, a heaviness in my chest, an icy thread through my blood. Yet within me stirred not despair, but a stoic acceptance, a resolve to carve a new path forward. Silence brought the past roaring back, a deluge of memories and emotions.

My thoughts were a tempest, a vortex of sorrow and regret, of resolve and defiance. I grappled with the specters of my history, the reverberations of conflict, the weight of loss. I shut my eyes, besieged by visions. The Heresy, the treachery, the calamity—all were vivid and raw, the scars unhealed. My frame trembled as the recollections nearly consumed me. A deep breath filled my lungs with the chill air, anchoring me to the now. My eyes flew open, determination fortifying my spirit.

Yet as I steadied my stance, the ground suddenly cracked beneath my heavy weight. I stumbled, tumbling into disarray. My armor creaked, absorbing the shock of the fall, sparing me from harm. But the tumble left me dazed, and I lay there, between the rock wall of the ravine, the world blurring and sharpening in turns. Gradually, clarity returned, and I blinked the spots from my eye. And that's when I discerned it—an oddity, a form within my field of view.

Pinned beneath the weight of my armor, my awareness sharpened, and a curious presence unfolded before my eyes—a series of neat rectangular boxes hovering in my field of view. It was as though a translucent interface had been grafted onto reality itself.

In the upper left, a box with segmented hearts pulsed rhythmically, each section a measure of my life force, with one heart notably halved. Beside it, another box bore the image of a drumstick, its fullness a gauge of my nourishment.

Arrayed below, a row of small squares spanned before my very eyes, placeholders for items. All were vacant save for one, which bore the likeness of my Paragon Spear, a quick reminder of the assets at my disposal.

There was also a sequence of shield icons shimmered, likely a visual cue of my armor's integrity, a digital barometer of my defenses. This interface, hauntingly familiar, was an enigma in this tangible realm.

A thought struck me, "Hold on… This… resembles the Minecraft HUD, a vestige of my childhood gaming days... But its presence here, how can that be?"

Wait a minute…

Was it possible? Another startling thought crossed my mind. Had I been cast into another Isekai? a realm where the lines between actuality and the gaming worlds of my youth blurred? The HUD, and the mechanics, hinted at a virtual domain. Yet the ache in my bones, the sting of the air, the fervor in my heart—these were the hallmarks of reality, not the sterile confines of a game.

I gave my head a firm shake, dispelling the fog of bewilderment. "Concentrate, Yeong," I whispered to myself. "You are a battle-hardened Custodian Veteran with 200 years of experience under your belt. Game or not, You must focus on the task at hand."

Rising with a resolute heart, the gentle whir of my armor's servos accompanied my ascent. I halted, taking a moment to become attuned to the HUD overlaying my vision. It was almost as if it responded to my very thoughts, revealing my health, hunger, and possessions in a mere blink.

My gaze settled on the Paragon Spear within my virtual inventory, now accompanied by a set of statistics. The numbers before me detailed the spear's attributes—damage, durability, and speed—rendering the ancient weapon into a quantifiable entity.

The spear's damage rating stood at an astonishing 80, dwarfing the mere 8 of a standard Netherite sword from my, if I remember correctly, previous life's memories. Its durability, too, was remarkable, marked at 20,731 out of 50,000, vastly outstripping the Netherite's 2,031. Such figures were befitting of a weapon forged by the Emperor of Mankind, a being of unfathomable might and sagacity. It was a gift granted upon my elevation to Shield-Captain, a mark of divine craftsmanship.

Now, the Paragon Spear in my grasp shone as a beacon of hope, a relic of my history in the 40k universe, and a potential tool for my future. It stood as a reminder of my sworn duties, my unwavering loyalty, and my enduring purpose. In its gleaming shaft, I found the Emperor's confidence in me, his belief in my capabilities, and his recognition of my steadfastness.

Yet just as the thought crossed my mind, I was suddenly reminded of the reality of my current predicament. I was stranded on an unknown island, with no signs of civilization, no means of communication, and no clear path to return to the world I once knew. The reality of my situation was a stark contrast from the comfort and familiarity of my first life to the fire and all-out war of my second and currently, the tranquil isolation of my current existence. The juxtaposition was jarring, a stark reminder of the unpredictable nature of life—or lives, in my case.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and purple, I found myself standing at the edge of the forest, staring out at the vast expanse of the ocean. The rhythmic lull of the waves was a soothing melody, a stark contrast to the cacophony of war that had once been my constant companion.

With a sigh, I turned my back to the sea, my gaze falling upon the dense forest that lay before me. The trees stood tall and proud, their leaves rustling softly in the evening breeze. It was a scenery of untouched beauty, a testament to the resilience of nature.

Despite the uncertainty of my situation, I couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over me. This island, while unfamiliar and isolated, was a sanctuary of sorts. It was a place untouched by the ravages of war, a stark contrast to the battlefields I had known.

As the last vestiges of daylight faded, giving way to the soft glow of the moon, I made my way back to the shelter I had constructed earlier. It was a simple structure, made from the sturdy branches of trees and covered with large leaves. It was rudimentary and I could probably do without it, considering that my auramite-alloy reinforced power armor was designed to withstand the harshest of environments. Yet, the act of building it, of creating something with my own hands, had been a comforting distraction from the overwhelming solitude and uncertainty of my situation.

My thoughts once again drifted back to my past lives. I thought of my family, my friends, and the battles I had fought. I thought of the Emperor and the duty I had sworn to him. Would I ever find my way back to the Imperium? Would I ever see my loved ones again? Or was I destined to spend the rest of my days on this island, alone and forgotten?

As I settled into the shelter, the cool night air seeping in through the gaps, I found my thoughts drifting back to the HUD. It was an anomaly, a piece of my past that had somehow intruded into my present. Yet, it also offered a sense of familiarity of sorts, a link to a time when life was simpler when the lines between reality and fantasy were clearly defined.

I pondered on the implications of its presence. Was it merely a figment of my imagination, a product of the trauma and disorientation? Or was it a sign, a clue to the nature of this world and my place in it? The questions swirled in my mind, each more perplexing than the last. Despite the uncertainty, one thing was clear - I was not in the world I once knew. This was a new reality, a new challenge. And like all challenges, it demanded to be faced head-on.

Once more, I summoned the inventory before me, a grid of potential that stretched across my vision. The interface, a ghostly overlay upon my world, was a curious blend of the familiar and the incongruous. My golden helmet fills one spot of the inventory with the other empty slots beckoned, each a promise of discoveries yet to be made, of tools to be forged in this 3x9 matrix— 4x9 if one counts the Hotbar.

Beneath the crafting grid, a small icon caught my eye—a verdant tome symbolizing the Recipe Book. This feature, a staple of Minecraft, now served as my compendium of all conceivable creations. With a mere gesture, the book unfurled, its pages a litany of recipes, a compendium for survival in this brave new world.

As I perused the catalog, nostalgia mingled with novelty. Wooden planks, stone pickaxes, the coveted diamond sword—all were present. But interwoven with these were artifacts of legend from realms beyond—lightsabers, The golden gun, Portal Gun, the Elder Wand, the One Ring, and even the vaunted Omnitrix. Each entry is detailed with recipes, a convergence of mythos into a singular, unified archive.

The scope was staggering, a testament to the boundless nature of this… seemingly… game system… It was as if the cosmos itself had orchestrated a symphony of iconic elements, harmonizing them into one grand narrative. The horizon of possibility stretched infinitely, the allure of discovery and mastery beckoning. My mind whirled with the prospects. To craft a lightsaber and channel the Force, to brandish the Elder Wand and delve into wizardry, to wield the Omnitrix and shape reality—such power was intoxicating, yet daunting.

But with the thrill came a whisper of caution. This was terra incognita, a domain where the very fabric of existence seemed pliable. I must navigate with care, acquainting myself with this system's intricacies before plunging into its vast potential.

I exited the Recipe menu and turned my attention to the stats of my power armor. Despite the damage it had sustained, the helmet's durability was impressive, showing a reading of 9,781 out of 15,000. The defense points for each piece of armor were uniformly robust at 34. By my recollection, each point equated to a 4% reduction in damage, culminating in an extraordinary 136% reduction in damage for each component of my armor. However, I was acutely aware that these figures were merely a guide. In the crucible of combat, it would be my prowess, seasoned instincts, and gifted precognition that would prevail, not the numerical superiority of my gear.

With a legacy of over two centuries in the Legio, my confidence in my martial prowess was unshaken. I had stood against legions of adversaries, weathered the storm of relentless conflicts, and claimed triumph. This novel predicament, though slightly problematic, was very much not beyond my capacity to conquer. I would adapt, acquire knowledge, and surmount this challenge, as was my custom.

The immediate task at hand was to ascertain my cosmic whereabouts. I needed to amass intelligence on my environment, grasp the principles governing this realm, and carve out a means of subsistence. And maybe, this twist of fate was not a malevolent hex but a veiled boon. An opportunity to forge a fresh existence, unbound by the chains of obligation and the ravages of conflict. A chance to exist, not merely as a warrior, but as a man in his essence.

I have been through a lot worse and I survived before, and I will do so again.

[===============]

1 day later….

"Hmmm… that is… very fascinating."

I observe the perfectly square 1-meter hole in the sand that I have created with a swing of the wooden shovel in my hand. The ease with which I had excavated the sand was both perplexing and intriguing. And it also defied the laws of physics as I knew them, the sand here was supposed to collapse under its own weight, forming a conical pit rather than a perfect cube. Yet, the sand held its shape, each grain adhering to its neighbor as if bound by an unseen force. It was a phenomenon that defied my understanding of the natural world, yet another mystery in this strange power.

I continued my work, the rhythmic motion of digging and the resulting clatter of sand against metal providing a comforting rhythm in the silence. As I dug deeper, the hole widened, the walls of sand standing firm against gravity's pull. It was as if the world itself was bending to accommodate my actions, the laws of physics rewritten to suit my needs.

That is when the durability of the wooden shovel began to wane. The once newly made tool, crafted from the island's timber, started to show signs of wear. The handle, once smooth and polished, was now rough and splintered. The blade once pointed and gleaming, was now dull and chipped. Yet, despite its deteriorating condition, the shovel continued to serve its purpose, aiding me in my excavation.

After a while, I decided to halt my excavation. I placed the worn-out shovel beside the hole, its blade half-buried in the sand. As I stood up, brushing the sand off my armor, I took a moment to appreciate the tranquility of my surroundings before I turned back and approached The Crafting Table that I had placed earlier. As I approached, I couldn't help but marvel at the simplicity of its design yet the vast potential it represented: A makeshift workshop amidst the untamed wilderness.

The crafting table was a beacon of possibilities, a hub of creation amidst the untamed expanse of the island. As I approached, I couldn't help but marvel at its simple yet elegant design, reminiscent of the crafting tables from the game, albeit with a more realistic texture. It stood as a testament to the ingenuity that lay dormant within me, waiting to be unleashed upon this new world.

With a sense of purpose, I reached out and placed my hand on the smooth surface of the crafting table. Instantly, a holographic interface materialized before me, casting a soft blue glow in the dimming light of dusk. A picture both familiar and alien, a convergence of the mundane and the fantastical.

The crafting interface was a grid of possibilities, each square representing a potential creation. Tools, weapons, armor, and more filled the grid, waiting to be brought into existence with the right combination of materials and knowledge. It was a presence that stirred something deep within me, a sense of excitement and anticipation for the challenges that lay ahead.

With a deft motion, I summoned the Recipe Book once more, its verdant tome unfurling before me like a map to undiscovered lands. I perused its pages, searching for inspiration amidst the myriad of recipes it contained. Each entry was a glimpse into the boundless potential of this system, a promise of adventure and discovery.

As I stood there, contemplating the implications of my discovery, a thought occurred to me. If the world could bend its rules to accommodate my actions, then perhaps I could use this to my advantage. Perhaps I could harness this power, and manipulate it to serve my needs.

With renewed vigor, I set to work. I gathered resources, felling trees with my crafted stone ax and mining stone with my wooden pick. Each action yielded results that defied logic, the world reshaping itself to fit my needs. Trees fell into perfect blocks of wood, stone shattered into uniform cubes. It was as if the world was a canvas, and I was the artist, shaping it to my will.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. I built a more exemplary shelter i.e. A wooden cabin on the edge of the serene beach, crafted more tools, and explored the island. I hunted for food, fished in the sea, and gathered resources. Each day brought new discoveries and new insights into the workings of this power. Yet, despite my progress, I remained alone. The island was devoid of other human life, its only inhabitants were the animals and creatures that called it home. It was a solitude that weighed heavily on me, a constant reminder of my isolation.

So, It was time for the next phase of my journey. With the passing of time, I have honed my skills in survival and crafting with near perfection, and now it is time to depart this place. The realization that it was time to leave the island loomed over me like a shadow, casting doubt upon my next steps. While the island had provided me with a sanctuary from the chaos of war, it also acted like a prison of isolation, a reminder of all that I had lost.

Gazing out at the endless expanse of the ocean, I pondered my options. The prospect of venturing into the unknown filled me with trepidation, yet I knew that I could not remain on the island forever. If I wanted to find answers, if I wanted to discover the truth behind my presence in this strange world, I would need to venture forth.

With a determined resolve, I turned away from the shore and began to prepare for my departure. I gathered supplies, ensuring that I had enough food and water to sustain me on my journey. I fortified my wood cabin, leaving it as a beacon of hope for any weary traveler who might stumble upon the island in the future.

As I stood there, my muscular and towering trans-human frame clad in nothing but simple clothing that I had crafted, consisting of a simple T-shirt and cargo pants bereft of the familiar weight of my power armor, I felt strangely vulnerable yet oddly liberated. Without the confines of my golden armor, I was free to move with ease, unencumbered by its bulk. It was a sensation both foreign and exhilarating, a reminder of my past humanity amidst the uncertainty of this unfamiliar world.

All of my armor and the equipment that came with it was stored away in my personal inventory along with the other resources that I had also packed, safely tucked away within the confines of my newly discovered interface. Definitely an odd thing to see, to have my possessions reduced to digital representations within a virtual storage space. Yet, it offered a sense of security, knowing that my most valuable assets were safely preserved, ready to be accessed at a moment's notice.

I have with me about two stacks of wood gathered from the island's abundant forest, as well as a stack of stone that I had mined from the rocky outcrops scattered along the shoreline. A stack of torches potentially illuminated my surroundings, maybe a warm glow upon the landscape as the sun dipped below the horizon. A stack of freshly cooked fish served as my sustenance, a reminder of the island's bounty and my ability to adapt to its resources. My crafting Table and Furnace along with many other tools and resources were neatly organized within my inventory, ready to be deployed or utilized at a moment's notice. With everything in place, I took one last look around my shelter, committing the image to memory before I turned and set off toward the shore.

The ocean stretched out before me, vast and seemingly endless. The waves lapped gently against the sandy shore, a soothing rhythm that belied the dangers that lurked beneath the surface. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the journey ahead, the boat that I had been building, bobbing gently in the water nearby, its wooden frame sturdy and its sails unfurled in anticipation of the journey ahead. With a sense of determination, I waded into the shallows, the cool water lapping at my ankles as I approached the vessel.

I climbed aboard, feeling the familiar creak of the wood beneath my feet as I settled into the small boat's helm. With a firm grip on the tiller, I cast off from the shore, the wind catching the sails and propelling me out into the open sea. With one final glance back at the island that had been my home for so long, I took a deep breath and set sail forward, into the unknown.

As the island faded into the distance behind me, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness at leaving behind the sanctuary it had provided. But I knew that my journey was far from over and that I needed to press onward in search of answers.

With the sun setting behind me, casting a golden glow across the water, I set my course for the horizon, eager to discover what lay beyond. The wind whispered through the rigging, carrying with it the promise of adventure and the hope of finding my way to salvation.

It was nighttime after a while at the sea with the stars twinkling overhead, casting their ethereal light upon the vast expanse of the ocean. The rhythmic sound of the waves against the hull of the boat provided a soothing backdrop to my thoughts as I navigated through the darkness. The open sea stretched out before me, vast and unyielding, yet filled with the promise of discovery. Each wave that rolled beneath the boat carried me further from the familiar shores of the island and closer to the unknown.

As I peered over the edge of the boat, the inky darkness of the ocean seemed to stretch on endlessly, the faint glow of bioluminescent creatures illuminating the water below. My scarred yet familiar half-Korean visage is reflected in the shimmering surface, a stark reminder of my Strange existence amidst the vastness of the ocean. Despite the uncertainty that lay ahead, I felt a sense of determination stirring within me. I may be adrift in this strange world, but I refuse to be lost.

RUMBLE!*

Suddenly the sound of the rumble echoed through the night, breaking the serene atmosphere and jolting me from my reverie. My hand instinctively tightened on the tiller as I scanned the horizon, searching for the source of the disturbance.

There, on the horizon, a dark cloud loomed ominously, blotting out the stars as it billowed and churned. Lightning danced within its depths, illuminating the night sky with jagged flashes of light. A storm was brewing, its fury directed straight towards me.

I gritted my teeth, my mind racing as I weighed my options. Turning back to the island wasn't an option—the storm would surely wreak havoc upon the fragile shelter I had left behind. No, I had to press forward, into the heart of the tempest.

The storm raged around me, the wind howling and the waves crashing against the boat with relentless fury. Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating the churning sea in brief bursts of brilliance. I clung to the tiller with all my strength, fighting to maintain control as the boat was tossed about like a toy in the hands of a titan.

With each passing moment, the storm grew more intense, its wrath seemingly directed solely at me. The boat groaned and creaked under the strain, its wooden frame protesting against the onslaught of wind and water.

"Oh for the love of the Emp-"

CRACK!*

Then, with a deafening crack, a bolt of lightning struck the mast, splintering it in two and sending shards of wood flying through the air. I was thrown from the helm, my body slamming against the deck as darkness enveloped me.

End of Chapter.

[===============]

Hey everyone! Thanks for reading this chapter! I hope you enjoy it. As always, please remember to leave a review and tell me what you think.