The Only Player in Warhammer Chapter 155 155: "We Do Not Have Enough to Eat, So We Must R

"What a shaless statent."

"You have no idea about the true threats lurking in the galaxy. Your ignorance is astonishing."

"We must make the necessary sacrifices so that more people can survive."

ssinius stared at Kinshir with eyes burning with anger.

"That's always what tyrants and oppressors say."

Kinshir t ssinius's gaze unflinchingly, the veins in his neck standing out with excitent.

"Noble ideals like survival, the big picture, or the future are always easy to find. But you never think about the present, about the people who are still alive now."

"All I want is for the poor in front of to be able to catch their breath, to live just a little bit better. What is so wrong with that?"

Datch silently observed the old man before him.

Kinshir's body trembled with fear, yet his eyes burned with the fire of conviction. This is an idealist, Datch thought. Such people cannot be persuaded, not even with death. In fact, death would only turn them into martyrs, making their beliefs even more unshakable.

A better life?

"This world will receive no better life—only ruin and punishnt," ssinius's voice was as cold as ice. An unreasonable fury welled up inside him.

The Battlegroup Saint Aster had to abort its mission and withdraw from the frontlines—just to suppress people who thought they knew better than the Emperor how the world should be ruled.

The Antopian rebellion caused a chain reaction, plunging dozens of nearby star systems—whose supply and coordination depended on Antopi—into chaos and danger. All of this stemd from intricate lies and false promises spread by the traitors of Chaos.

"In that case, just use the sword and slaughter to your heart's content, as those you call traitors," Kinshir retorted.

"Perhaps the 'enemies' you speak of are actually just civilians pushed to rebellion by and crushed under your oppression."

"You can threaten to kill , but you won't scare anyone here."

Kinshir closed his eyes, lifted his chin to expose his defenseless throat, and awaited judgnt.

But you cannot kill ideals; you cannot cut away the desire for a better life with a at cleaver.

"So long as this dark world fails to change, there will always be those who rise up, generation after generation!"

To ssinius and most of the Empire's NPCs, this was an irredeemable rebellion—one that rocked the Empire's very foundation, a sin to be purged completely with fire and steel.

But from Datch's point of view, the demands of Antopi's world seed entirely reasonable—not at all excessive.

Who is willing to be born as fuel, or as a consumable, after all? Every day, we are exploited in the na of "just causes," seeing no end and no hope.

The Empire strictly controls information within warp space, so the general populace could never know the dangers brought by the Gods of Chaos. All they care about is the insatiable greed of the imperial tax collectors.

More importantly, the Empire—unchecked by either the Emperor or the High Lords—is simply inhumane.

Thousands of years of internal strife on Terra, bureaucratic corruption, aningless extravagance, squandered resources, countless lives lost… It all likely cost the Empire more than any foreign war.

Responsibility for this rebellion is split fifty-fifty between the Empire and the local populace. If not for the Great Rift and the machinations of the Word Bearers behind the scenes, the Empire's responsibility might be ninety percent.

The common folk have suffered for ten thousand years, and the Empire has accomplished nothing for them.

The Orks have returned, the Necron have awakened, Chaos Traitors have resurged stronger than ever. Yet the more suffering endured, the more endless hardship looms, and no one can take it forever.

"Naless One."

On the projection screen, ssinius looked at Datch.

Here, the Naless Ones hold the highest status—and since they have now intervened in this war, naturally their opinions are given priority.

Datch understood that this was a story option presented by the ga. The fate of Antopi—and even the entire Warhamr world—rests on your decision.

You can follow the Empire's hardline logic and rcilessly crush Kinshir's betrayal, turning this cesspool that is Warhamr into a paradise of natural disasters where Chaos Gods, Emperor, and everyone else suffer equally.

Or, you could try another path—respecting the voices of the common people and allowing Kinshir to live on.

Perhaps, in this way, the cesspool will eventually beco beautiful, every world a place of smiles.

All the choices are left to the player.

Datch fell silent, thinking deeply. For a first playthrough, it's usually best to pick the safest rescue route.

"This rebellion was started by the people of Antopi, who are utterly ignorant of the real threats to the galaxy." Datch spoke quietly as he looked at Kinshir. "Let show you the truth."

ssinius frowned anxiously upon hearing this. Why is the Naless One so compassionate? When dealing with traitors or xenos earlier, he was always so ruthless and decisive. He didn't even bother speaking—he simply started shooting.

Now, suddenly, he's choosing to talk.

Ignoring ssinius, Datch opened his inventory and took out a Pokéball, tossing it.

"Arise, Zarhulash!"

The Pokéball bounced and released a heavy silvery light that gathered at the center of the council chamber.

A fragnt of a C'Tan—the Overlord Zarhulash—appeared once more, his tallic-silver liquid body shimring. The mont he manifested, his eyes—burning with white-hot rage—locked onto Datch.

The room itself seed to fill with a tangible anger and killing intent.

"You wretched insect! How dare you treat as a plaything!"

"Today I'll show you—the C'Tan is invincible!!"

Zarhulash's roar exploded in everyone's minds; many clutched their heads and scread in pain.

The C'Tan lifted his hand, an illusory scepter materializing as he prepared to punish Datch, to display the true horror of his divine power.

Yet just as his killing intent peaked—

Buzz!

An invisible force erupted, striking Zarhulash's silver body.

This force was monstrous—like the entire mass of the universe crushed down and ground against Zarhulash's body and very soul.

"Gu—h!" Zarhulash groaned in agony.

His body—crafted with the pinnacle of terrifying technique—cracked under the strain, like tinfoil crushed by a giant unseen hand.

Worse still, a vastly greater power seed poised to conceptually erase his very existence.

Compared to this peerless, unstoppable force, Zarhulash was as insignificant as an ant, easily flattened.

Any thought of resistance vanished, like snow and frost under a burning sun.

Once-proud, Zarhulash's head bowed with utter humiliation. The illusion of the scepter vanished, and Zarhulash was forced to kneel before Datch.

As soon as he fully submitted, the terrifying pressure vanished—just as suddenly as it had co.

Floating nearby, the Changeling and Masque of Slaanesh witnessed all of this. The two howled with laughter at Zarhulash's foolishness, having known of his sches for a long ti, but they had deliberately withheld any warning.

It's truly interesting to let soone taste their own helplessness and humiliation when facing absolute power.

Kinshir and the others stared in disbelief.

This silver being, radiating the power of a god, was actually kneeling before the Naless One.

Without explanation, Datch commanded Zarhulash: "Share so of your mories with them."

"Show them the truth—but not too much or their minds won't withstand it. Just enough to let them comprehend the galaxy's threats."

Zarhulash instinctively wanted to protest, to scold, to question Datch's right to command him. But the mory of what had just happened made him freeze—silenced at once.

If he dared rebel against this master, he knew, he'd be t with a far worse fate than even being seized by the Necron.

The situation was dire. Once a C'tan lord, he had been ambushed by those damned cowards, torn apart, and made a prisoner. Now, he was a slave…a pet.

That grudge will never be forgiven!

After a few seconds of silence, Zarhulash turned toward Kinshir and the other humans.

He did not raise his scepter; he only spread a faint light from his eyes, projecting a soft silvery halo around the chamber.

Kinshir instantly sensed a sudden darkness before his eyes—and his mind was sucked into a bizarre, infinite flood of mories.

They saw burning stars.

Not taphorical, but literal—stars detonating as weapons, hurling storms across the galaxy.

All this, rely because two hypercivilizations went to war.

Warships without number, all the size of planets. Both sides wielded weapons strong enough to slice through dinsions and space-ti, unraveling vast regions.

The war infected the whole galaxy, leaving it in ruins. Countless habitable worlds beca blasted wastelands; nebulae were dyed the color of death.

When Kinshir and the others were drawn back from that world of mories…their faces were ashen, their fine clothes soaked in cold sweat.

So were so stricken by terror and shock that their eyes glazed over and they couldn't stop vomiting.

Fragnts of the war between gods and ancient civilizations had been forcibly cramd into their limited minds.

The scale of the destruction—the total disregard for individuals, the pure terror of using the entire galaxy as a chessboard—was far beyond any threat or war they could have imagined.

"I understand your pain, your anger, and your longing for a better life," Datch's voice snapped everyone back from their horror.

A little persuasion is needed to succeed with the rescue mission. The VR ga's AI is advanced enough that tasks can certainly be completed through negotiation.

Datch, however, didn't like talking—he'd rather just keep killing.

"In order to fight these horrendous enemies and avoid extinction or enslavent of all species, humanity must be united."

"You have given so much, yet received nothing in return. Your children and the elderly starve, while imperial officials ignore it all and demand even more."

"That anger and resistance of yours is not unforgivable."

While he spoke, Datch opened the World Editor to reassure Kinshir and the others. He quickly reviewed the data for Antopi.

To serve the needs of the great voyages, this world had enormous, high-density industrial districts and vast production capacities—with devastating costs: massive resource consumption, severe pollution, and living conditions reduced to the bare minimum for ordinary people.

It was like an overworked machine, with worn-down parts and exhausted operators.

Luckily, Datch started as an Astartes. Had he begun as a city laborer, the only guaranteed outco would be "internal treasuries turned to ash, streets trampled by the bones of nobles."

Don't talk to about the big picture or the greater social good. Without , the 'big picture' is nothing but toilet paper—barely even useful for wiping your backside!

Datch zood out to reveal the entire planetary system—then made a decision that shattered the worldview of even the chanicus sages.

He moved several mineral-rich moons to orbit near Antopi, carefully setting gravity and atmospheric paraters so humans could live as usual.

He then ordered Antopi's intensive industries moved onto these moons, also creating floating continents between planet and moons—installing transfer stations and assembly plants there to integrate resources and products.

This would greatly reduce pressure on Antopi, effectively easing the current crisis.

Having previewed the settings and confird there were no issues, Datch saved and executed the plan.

The next mont, three celestial moons—forrly far away in deep space—suddenly appeared, floating nearby in open space, in defiance of Kepler's laws.

Antopi's factories spread out onto the moons and floating continents.

Of course, this was only a temporary asure.

To truly solve the problem and prevent tragedy from recurring, a thorough, systemic reform from the very foundations of the Empire was needed—adjusting political structure, economic models, technological roadmaps, ideology…everything.

Otherwise, within ten years, the place would be buried under factories again, and people would continue being used as fuel and consumables.

Datch's actions stunned everyone. The other side had actually reshaped the entire galaxy just to relieve pressure on a single world.

Once so arrogant and lawless, Zarhulash now felt as if he'd been shot in the knees and forced to kneel. This man is a god—he even breaks the laws of physics.

Not even in the wars of ten thousand years ago did C'Tans or ancient saints dare act so rashly.

Moving a star is simple, Zarhulash thought, even at my peak. The real challenge is instantly adjusting gravity, moving buildings into the sky, and getting everything to operate smoothly.

The Changeling and Masque of Slaanesh were silent—their gaze toward Datch ever more filled with awe. They had real reason to believe this man is the creator god of the universe. Who else could so blatantly ignore reality?

The Battlegroup Saint Aster's warships and the many orbital space stations hung in eerie silence. They had witnessed gods reshaping the universe according to their will.

"Am I dreaming?" stamred Captain Yurke of the Anvil of Faith.

Smack!

An attendant slapped the captain's face. Yurke winced in pain.

"How dare you strike ?" he glared at the normally deferential attendant, a mix of shock and anger on his face.

"It was your order. You must always be alert by all ans necessary," the attendant replied.

Yurke wanted to yell, but rembered he'd really said that, and swallowed his anger.

But the slap convinced him it was all really happening. It seed that boarding a warp-traveling ship was just a small display of the Naless One's powers.

ssinius was also dumbfounded. He'd known the Naless One was terrifying, but never imagined this powerful! If all else failed, he mused, perhaps they should return to Terra and pull the Emperor off the throne, seating the Naless One instead.

Once Datch confird the industrial relocation plan was feasible, he turned to the still-shocked parliantarians, including Kinshir.

"I understand your revolt, but you must pay the price for your actions to serve as a warning to others."

"Kinshir, as the chief planner and core supporter of this rebellion, will be conscripted into the frontline penal legion."

"You will witness and experience firsthand the threats the Empire faces on the frontlines against xenos and Chaos."

"This is not a one-ti punishnt; every standard year, a set number of qualified Antopian citizens will be drafted into the frontlines."

"Only then can one truly comprehend the cruelty of the galaxy and the sacrifices of the Emperor."

Kinshir looked at Datch with reverence, prostrated himself, and—trembling with excitent—kissed his boots.

"Thank the Emperor. Thank you. We accept this punishnt gratefully, and are thankful for your rcy and pardon."

The other parliantarians did the sa.

Their actions made it clear that—even if they were to be destroyed—it would an little to them, but the other side had chosen not to, and was instead seriously seeking a solution to the conflict.

Datch helped Kinshir to his feet and gazed intently at the idealist.

"Humanity will have its happy ending. That's exactly what is going to happen now. I swear this myself. Nothing will change that."

"Well said!" Tears stread down Kinshir's cheeks as he gave a formal Aquila salute.

He then faced the others.

"All deleted."

The defense facilities surrendered to the Imperial fleet.

The other council mbers fully understood what this ant. The penal legion was the Empire's most fatal unit. They all had to serve as punishnt for endangering the Empire and other worlds.

But they had already gotten what they wanted, and did not fear dying soon.

ssinius easily seized control of the orbital port and space stations, quelling the revolt. He never overruled the judgnt passed by the Naless One, nor did anyone even think of objecting.

Datch ignored the cleanup work. He started pondering how to give the rescue story a happy ending.

The greatest issue facing humanity's Empire is low productivity and underdeveloped technology.

Although he could not develop forbidden AI, technology itself offered another path.

When it cos to helping the Imperium advance technologically, Datch's focus naturally turned to the Warp.

Player-use items all co from other universes/IPs, and are strictly for the player's own use—added by the developers for their convenience. If you want to help NPCs farm, develop, or advance technology, you must act within the world of Warhamr itself.

Simply put, player items can give an NPC a fish, but not a fishing net.

To solve this, more than "giving fish" is required.

Even if Datch played like a hardcore min-maxer the whole way, not much would change by the end of the story. True transformation of the Warhamr world requires teaching people how to fish.

As productivity rises, the social system naturally changes.

If Datch wanted a breakthrough in technology, his first choice would be the Warp itself. For others, the Warp ans Chaos, madness, and unspeakable horrors.

But in Datch's eyes, it was nothing but an endless layered wasteland, with countless points of light—bright and dark—rising and sinking, each representing a possible "gift."

He could enter the Warp, salvage usable technology, and help advance the Empire's tech level. With luck, he might even rescue a husky.

"Once the Silent King's mission is complete, it's ti for explore/raid/retreat phases, to recover technology and sell to the oil buffs for Huff—no, for throne coins to play cards..."