Helpless

'Plans?' Kayvaan glanced out the car window at the unfamiliar cityscape of Terra and felt a twinge of helplessness. 'Plans? What do I even want to do? Go back to the Raven Guard? No. That woman was right.' When Kayvaan looked into the Empire's records, he found that there were glaring flaws in the surgeries performed on the Raven Guard. On top of that, the primarch itself was missing, and it was hard to say if the chapter still existed. Even if it did, Kayvaan wasn't sure he wanted to go back.

His feelings about them were… complicated. Part of him felt a longing for the place he once lived and fought. Yet another part feared what he might find—or who might still be there. His brothers? Would there even be anyone left? It was entirely possible they had all fallen on the battlefield. After all, Astartes didn't fear death or the passage of time.

But returning to the battlefield, shedding the last drop of blood for the Empire? That wasn't what he wanted anymore. Maybe the original Kayvaan—before this body had been possessed—had that kind of resolve. But the current Kayvaan wasn't the same. He was a young man from a peaceful era on Earth. That level of sacrifice and duty wasn't something he aspired to.

A romantic life as a noble in this strange world? That seemed laughable. His title was inherited from a minor noble family in some backwater region, with a fiefdom in name only. In the shadow of Terra's elites, his family's influence was no more significant than that of a mid-level bureaucrat. Romance and indulgence? Hardly an option when you lacked power and money.

For now, though, dreams and ideals had to take a back seat. There were more pressing matters.

Survival! From everything Kayvaan had read, the Empire's special institutions—the ones tasked with dealing with Chaos demons—had their sights set on him. It might have been because his body bore the curse of an evil god from the "Great Rebellion," drawing their unwanted attention.

At first, Kayvaan hadn't fully grasped what the Inquisitor was. After all, such organizations didn't exist during the golden age when the Emperor still walked among the people. But living in the past wasn't an option. During his time under house arrest, Li had spent countless hours reading about the Inquisitor.

To sum it up in the simplest terms, the Ordo Malleus was a group of paranoid zealots with nearly limitless authority. Their worldview was stark: if there was one enemy outside the Empire, then there were a hundred enemies hidden within. Their mission? Root out any taint and purify it—usually by reducing the accused to ashes. If they happened to be wrong? Well, that was just bad luck for the victim. According to their logic, the sacrifice was justified to protect the Empire.

And if you were lucky, your ashes might make it to the Imperial Cemetery—assuming they hadn't been mixed with others'—and someone remembered your name to grant you a proper funeral. Kayvaan had no desire to cross paths with them again. Nothing good ever came from dealing with the Inquisitor.

Looking back at his initial trial, Kayvaan couldn't help but feel a chill. The words of the woman named Elizabeth had been no empty threat. She was dead serious. If she had caught even a hint that Kayvaan wasn't truly Kayvaan—that another soul had taken over this body—she would have wasted no time. She would have taken great pleasure in making him her personal project, ensuring his trial ended in a fiery "purification."

What made the situation even more devastating was that she had every right to act as she pleased. If she wanted, she could even kill Kayvaan with just a shred of suspicion and some flimsy evidence—legally. The law was on her side, and Kayvaan understood this all too well.

After nine thousand years, Kayvaan had absorbed all the experiences of his past life. He knew his own childhood memories better than his predecessor. He could impersonate Kayvaan Shrike so perfectly that no one should be able to notice any inconsistencies. But none of that could extinguish the fear simmering in his heart. Because if she decided to act on her suspicions and wanted him dead, she wouldn't even need a scrap of concrete evidence.

Kayvaan wanted to curse out loud. 'What kind of insane laws did that bastard come up with? What happened to basic human rights?' But the harsh reality stared him in the face. The Empire always claimed to protect the rights of its citizens, but it also demanded that personal interests unconditionally serve the collective good—or, more specifically, the Empire's interests. Anyone who had the slightest understanding of how the system worked knew that the so-called "human rights" were nothing more than a facade.

If Kayvaan were still powerless and imprisoned like he had been just days ago, this noble probably wouldn't have paid him much attention. But now? Now he was a leader—a leader of a Space Marine regiment that was about to be established, with authority over three entire galaxies.

In his position, Kayvaan had no choice but to play his part. To convincingly pose as Kayvaan Shrike, he would have to act like a passionate, battle-hungry warrior. But to ensure his own survival, he needed to stay far from the Empire's central power. The Eastern Fringe, remote and distant, seemed like the perfect escape. What's wrong with being in the middle of nowhere? At least there, he wouldn't live under constant surveillance.

And hadn't it been said that his hometown hadn't suffered any large-scale attacks for the past nine thousand years? Maybe he could gamble on the next nine thousand being equally uneventful.

But was he really here just to passively await his fate? After nine millennia of imprisonment, countless lessons learned, and endless knowledge absorbed, had he really been brought into this new world just to wait for death? Would he leave everything up to luck and live in constant fear, hoping disaster wouldn't find him? "What a joke!" Kayvaan growled, clenching his fists. I'm not that helpless kid anymore.

"Sir? Did you say something?" Darius asked, glancing over as he drove.

"I said, don't look at me! Watch the road!" Kayvaan snapped.

Darius jerked the wheel to avoid a vehicle that suddenly swerved into their lane. The old car wobbled before returning to the road, cruising steadily again. Lee let out a sigh. "Death really is everywhere. I can't afford to fall like this. No matter what happens, I need to form my Space Marine chapter."

"Of course! How could we die in something as meaningless as a car accident?" Darius laughed. "If we're going to die, it should be in an epic battle at your side!"

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Kayvaan said seriously. Then, after a moment of hesitation, he asked, "Darius, if someone's body can no longer handle transformation surgery, can they still become a member of a Space Marine?"

"What? No way! People who haven't undergone transformation surgery can't even begin to compare to those who have. It's not just about strength—it's their bones, muscles, reflexes, speed, and ability to recover from injuries. An ordinary person would be like a child fighting an adult compared to a standard space warrior."

"And there are no weaklings in the Space Marine," Darius added.

"Exactly. So, let me ask you—what if someone once had the surgery but, due to unforeseen circumstances, reverted back to being a normal human? And what if their body can't undergo the procedure again?" Kayvaan asked calmly. "What happens then?"