Kingdom Come: Deliverance, but Warhammer 40k

A blue feather drifted into the room with the breeze.

It hovered slowly in mid-air, its surface flowing with ever-changing shimmering light, as if countless intricate scenes were flickering and changing within its veins.

It landed lightly on the edge of the dressing table.

Just as Henry's gaze fell upon that blue hue...

A carefully crafted veil collapsed with a deafening roar.

The altered and obscured memories flooded my mind like a burst dam.

On the eve of arriving at Carlos Castle.

The first glimpse of those striking blue feathers.

Deep in the shadows of the abandoned hangar.

A fleeting vision beside the skeleton of the mechanical priest.

At the end of the corridor.

The edge of the windowsill.

Those blue traces that always appear unexpectedly and are then quickly erased from existence.

And before the Osprey transport ship was dismantled.

That blue storm that forcibly stripped us of our senses.

It turns out that everything was predetermined, and its fate was already set under the influence of the subspace.

Henry slowly lowered his head.

The palm holding the note trembled uncontrollably.

It turns out that from the very first day I came into this world, I had already been discovered by the evil gods in the subspace...

They led themselves to a stage that had been set up, a stage built according to their memories of their past lives.

They had already seen through his secret, and his special abilities meant nothing to them.

The spectators, high above, stood behind the curtain, watching with great interest as a clown from another universe performed a stage play.

Everything that clown went through.

Those seemingly destined coincidences, life-and-death encounters, and bizarre entanglements that transcend time and space.

It was all a twisted and absurd arrangement.

Whitehead Town, Carlos, Swing, Salia.

Things that have long been destroyed, people who are dead.

They were stitched together by a pair of invisible hands.

It's pieced together into a farce with a pre-written script.

A suffocating pain shot through my chest.

  

Henry steadied himself against the dusty dressing table, gazing at his disheveled reflection in the mirror.

Covered in blood.

His eyes were bloodshot.

A wild beast caught in a trap, a fool without wisdom...

Salia Carlos is long dead.

He died in that chaotic invasion.

To die at a point in time that one cannot possibly reach.

They died in the past, which has long since turned into wasteland.

But even her peace after death was taken away; her soul was taken by an evil god.

Forced to assume different identities.

She waited for him time and time again.

Reunions time and time again.

It was merely to please the mastermind behind all things, to add enough conflict to the play, and to give the insects a direction to move forward.

A wave of acid rose in Henry's stomach, and his vision began to blur.

He looked at the blue feathers on the dressing table.

There was no warmth left in the fundus.

"The cunning and treacherous."

The name was squeezed out through clenched teeth, fueled by a fury that seemed to burn through his chest.

"Tzeentch—!!"

The roar echoed through the empty room.

He swung his arm forcefully.

Snapped!

The feathers were slapped away with a heavy thud.

That wisp of dark blue tumbled in mid-air.

It has not yet landed on the ground.

It then transformed into countless tiny stardust fragments and vanished into nothingness.

at the same time.

A burst of laughter suddenly erupted.

everywhere.

The sounds were a mixture of men's whispers and women's giggles.

The old man's sighs and the children's laughter.

Thousands of voices overlapped and blended together.

They surged in from all directions.

The entire fake world is laughing.

It was simply pure pleasure.

A satisfied audience member is praising the brilliant performance on stage; human emotions are so beautiful.

Henry clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug deep into his palms.

The laughter lasted for a long time, yet it felt like only a moment had passed.

Time in the material world became blurred by the joy in the warp, and the power of the evil god caused ripples.

Ultimately, it turned into an illusory echo, gradually melting into the wind.

The room fell silent once more.

Henry stood still.

Like a frozen statue.

Much later.

He looked again at the neatly written note in his hand.

Smooth out the wrinkles along its edges, fold it carefully, and tuck it into a close-fitting pocket.

He turned and walked out of the room, down the stairs, leaving the mill frozen in time.

We continued along the dirt road from our memories.

The sun is about to set.

Traces of chaos remain on the horizon.

Everything around me was both familiar and strange, and I could vaguely make sense of it all.

I don't know how far we've walked.

A withered tree lies across the end of the road.

The tree trunk had a strange appearance, with its bark cracked and peeling off.

Only a few withered branches remained, twisted and bent, with some blood vessels clinging to them.

There used to be a swing hanging here.

It's Salia's favorite place.

Their first encounter, and every encounter there, happens here.

Countless beautiful memories, even if you know they're fake, how can you really forget them?

He slowly squatted down.

He pried open the top layer of dry, hard soil with his bare hands.

Little by little, they dug out a small hole.

They put the note inside and then covered it again with soil and gravel.

After doing everything.

He found the wooden planks scattered in the ruins and the hemp ropes that had not yet rotted.

We began repairs.

Relying on the remaining impressions in his mind, he tried to restore the swing to make it closer to the appearance in his memory.

Time has no meaning here.

I don't know how many days and nights it took.

A simple swing was re-suspended beneath the withered tree.

It looks exactly the same as it used to.

Henry stared at it.

In a daze.

The suspended wooden planks seemed to sway slightly in the wind.

There seemed to be a blonde girl sitting there.

The long white dress billowed in the wind.

She was tilting her head to look at him.

She smiled happily and gently, waiting for her beloved to return.

Henry stared, lost in thought.

His palm reached forward.

But in the very next moment...

The phantom vanished like smoke.

Nothing was left behind.

There was only one dilapidated swing, swaying forlornly in the wind.

Henry remained silent for a long time.

Finally, he sat on the wooden plank, mimicking the girl from his memory.

But the weight of his body had just pressed down on it.

A sharp crack suddenly came from above.

The branches that had been dead for many years could not ultimately bear the weight of an adult.

It broke immediately.

Henry and the swing crashed heavily into the dust.

Dust and dirt flew everywhere.

He lay on his back on the ground, without trying to get up, nor did he have the strength to do so.

His kingdom of heaven collapsed along with the swing; the kingdom of heaven he dreamed of never existed in this world.

Looking up at the dim sky above.

My vision gradually became blurry.

Warm liquid slid down the corner of my eye and into my temples.

He raised his arm and covered his eyes horizontally.

His voice was so hoarse it had changed tone.

"I will kill you, no matter where you are."

The wasteland gave no reply.

The cold wind whistled through the gaps in the bare trees, creating a hollow echo.

The man cried out.

"You won't destroy me."

"Someday—"

"I will take her back from you with my own hands."