In an old, rundown residential complex.
At 4:00 PM, Vance dragged his heavy legs up to the sixth floor, fishing out his keys to unlock his heavy security door. With a soft click, he stepped inside and immediately shrugged off his crisp, navy-blue uniform jacket. He hung it carelessly on the coat rack behind the door, revealing a light gray dress shirt beneath, dark patches of sweat staining the fabric.
"Hoo..."
He let out a long, shuddering breath, swapped his shoes for a pair of slippers, and trudged over to the refrigerator in his cramped living room. Pulling out an ice-cold bottle of mineral water, he twisted the cap off and downed more than half in a single, continuous gulp. The freezing liquid tore down his throat, finally chasing away some of the stifling heat and the bone-deep exhaustion of back-to-back shifts.
Vance. Male. Twenty-eight years old. Member of the Cybersecurity and Surveillance Task Force.
For the past month, his team had been locked in a grinding war of attrition against a cell utilizing Dark Web channels to spread extremist ideologies and orchestrate real-world actions. Their targets were cunning. The servers were hosted entirely overseas, their comms were buried under layers of military-grade encryption, and their field operatives utilized single-point-of-contact methodology. Their anti-reconnaissance awareness was exceptionally high.
"There are cameras on literally every street corner, and people actually still have the guts to pull this garbage..." Vance massaged his throbbing temples and collapsed into his battered sofa. "What the hell is going through these people's heads? Literal Nurgle pus?"
That last remark was an inside joke he'd picked up from his Warhammer tabletop group chats.
He was a thirteen-year veteran of the hobby. He started pushing miniatures around in college and eventually played his way through the Dawn of War series, Space Marine, and Total War: Warhammer 2. He'd even slogged his way through the original English paperbacks of the Horus Heresy series.
Time was scarce now that he was working full-time, but he still tried to squeeze in a game or two when he could, or just scrolled through forums to see if any new memes had dropped. He was deeply fascinated by the grimdark, suffocating lore of the 40K universe, particularly everything surrounding the Inquisition. As a die-hard Imperial loyalist, he boasted an entire display cabinet stuffed with Grey Knights, Sisters of Battle, and Inquisitor models. On the weekends, he could still be found purging heretics on the tabletop with his buddies.
Cracking this case had been grueling, but the final sting operation had gone off without a hitch. The primary suspects were in custody, the chain of evidence was locked tight, and the subsequent interrogations and deep-dives had been handed off to the other departments. Vance had finally earned two precious days of rotated leave.
Peeling himself off the sofa and Vance went toward the custom-built PC sitting in the corner of his bedroom.
The rig wasn't exactly top-of-the-line, but it was beefy enough to run most modern games smoothly. Vance was a hardcore gamer. Beyond Warhammer, his library was packed with RTS, FPS, and RPG titles. He desperately needed some high-octane virtual adrenaline to flush out the accumulated stress of his real-world job.
He hit the power button. The CPU let out a low, steady hum, and the monitor flickered to life, casting a pale blue glow across the room. Vance lit a cigarette, clamped it between his lips, and stared blankly at the Windows loading screen.
The smoke curled upward, blurring the monitor's light. He was zoning out.
During the raid today, one of the suspects had been screaming bloody murder as they slapped the cuffs on him: "You don't understand! This world has been rotting from the inside out for years! I'm just accelerating the inevitable!" Those bloodshot eyes had been filled with a twisted, manic zealotry.
Vance hadn't said a word at the time. He just read the man his rights and secured the handcuffs according to protocol.
But buried deep down in some dark corner of his mind, he actually understood the feeling. He didn't understand the crime, but he understood the suffocating, crushing powerlessness that came from staring into the abyss for too long.
His day job consisted entirely of wading through the filthiest, most depraved corners of the internet: fraud rings, extortion, illicit pornography, the rapid spread of violent extremism, and the active plotting of real-world terror attacks. Once you see enough of it, you start waking up in the dead of night, staring out the window at the neon-drenched city, and realizing that civilization is just a razor-thin veneer. Beneath it, an unspeakable darkness is constantly churning.
"How great would it be if all the chaos just disappeared..." Vance murmured to himself, violently stubbing out his cigarette. "Whatever. Not thinking about it. Time to game."
He wiggled the mouse, ready to click the Steam icon. (TL/N: Insert gabe newell memes here)
But right as his index finger twitched toward the left mouse button...
A window popped up dead center on his screen without a single warning prompt.
The UI was incredibly minimalist: a pure black background, and right in the middle, an animated logo composed of shattered mecha wreckage interwoven with the orbit of stars. Beneath the logo were lines of softly glowing text:
[Epoch 40K: Mecha Second Closed Beta Officially Launched]
[Congratulations, Lucky Mecha Pilot]
[You have acquired precious beta access]
[Please install the game immediately to log in and experience the universe]
[100% Hyper-Realistic Simulation. The vast sea of stars is yours to conquer]
[Please install the game immediately. Logging in will commence your grand expedition into the starry expanse]
Vance froze, his jaw dropping so far he nearly lost the cigarette he was no longer smoking.
"What is this?"
His brow furrowed. His immediate reaction was that it was some aggressive new malware or a rogue browser pop-up. "Epoch 40K: Mecha?"
"That title... reeks of a cheap, knockoff asset-flip."
He'd been in the Warhammer hobby for over a decade. He'd seen countless garbage mobile games trying to illegally scrape the IP: Warhammer Epoch, 40K Galaxy, Mecha Imperium... but this one was just shamelessly stitching the words together. Epoch 40K + Mecha. It was like they were terrified people wouldn't realize they were ripping off Games Workshop.
"Heretical," Vance muttered. His professional instincts flared up, immediately classifying the program.
He moved his mouse, intending to immediately X out of the window. Usually, these malicious pop-ups hid the close button in some obscure corner, or clicking anywhere on the window triggered a cascade of secondary ads.
Surprisingly, when his cursor hovered over the edge of the window, the standard drag-and-drop arrows appeared. And right there, nestled in the top right corner, was a perfectly normal, functional "X" button.
Vance raised an eyebrow. That was unexpected.
He tentatively clicked the "Learn More" hyperlink. A crisp, clean page opened up, featuring only a few lines of introductory text.
"Epoch 40K: Mecha is a hyper-realistic simulation game built on cutting-edge immersive technology."
"Players will assume the role of a mecha pilot, throwing themselves into a colossal interstellar war."
"Boasting an unparalleled proprietary physics engine and AI system, the game offers an unrivaled, authentic experience."
"This beta test is strictly by limited invitation only. Access is non-transferable."
The copy was dry and completely straightforward. There were no flashy, exaggerated buzzwords, no predatory microtransaction portals, and no cheap gimmicks with half-naked models. It didn't even list a developer or publisher.
"They're really committing to the bit." Vance scoffed, but his finger hovered over the download button for the client package.
As a cybersecurity professional, his rig was armored with enterprise-grade firewalls and real-time monitoring suites. He was confident he could contain whatever trojan or virus was hiding inside. Besides...
The way the pop-up had executed was genuinely bizarre. It hadn't triggered his browser, and there were no logs in his ad-blocker extensions. It was as if the application had written itself directly into his display cache.
"Either this is some next-generation penetration exploit, or..." Vance narrowed his eyes. "...there's something more to this."
His curiosity finally smothered his caution. He wanted to see exactly what kind of payload this 17KB installation package was trying to deliver.
Click.
The progress bar instantly snapped to 100%. There was zero latency.
A new icon materialized in the corner of his desktop. Set against a pitch-black background, a striking crimson fissure tore straight through the center. It looked like the fractured joint of a mecha, or perhaps a ray of dawn violently tearing open the dark.
"17KB. What the hell could that possibly install?" Vance grumbled. "That's not even enough data for a 1080p wallpaper."
He double-clicked the icon.
A split second later, his monitor snapped to absolute, suffocating black.
Then, as if every photon of light in the room had been instantly vacuumed away, his consciousness was seized by an overwhelming, completely irresistible force, yanking him down into an endless abyss.
He didn't know how long he was falling.
Eventually, Vance felt his body return to him. He opened his eyes, only to find himself suspended in an absolute, impenetrable void. Up, down, left, right—there was nothing but an endless expanse of pitch-black ink. Only pure darkness remained.
Dead ahead, three colossal doors stood side-by-side.
Towering over a hundred meters high, each possessed a distinct architectural style and emitted a faint halo, serving as the sole sources of light and points of reference in this suffocating void.
A cold, mechanical voice—devoid of gender or origin—echoed directly into his mind:
[Identity Confirmed: Vance]
[Active neural signals and consciousness compatibility detected]
[Binding complete: Epoch 40K: Mecha Second Closed Beta access activated]
[Welcome to the Character Creation interface]
Vance tried to stretch, only to realize he didn't have a physical body to move. He was nothing but a suspended cluster of pure consciousness, capable only of observation and thought.
Virtual reality? Full-dive immersion? Has technology really gotten this advanced?
Despite his initial shock, his finely honed instincts as a veteran Warhammer fan quickly forced him to calm down.
[Please name your character] the cold voice rang out again.
A name?
Vance immediately thought of one of his absolute favorite characters from Warhammer 40K lore: Gregor Eisenhorn of the 41st Millennium. He was the renowned Inquisitor famous for being resolute, pragmatic, and completely unshackled by Imperial dogma. Throughout countless official novels and sourcebooks, Eisenhorn stood out as a rare anomaly within the Inquisition, a man who had managed to retain a spark of human decency and tactical flexibility.
Vance respected his style.
As for an ID... He pondered for a moment, deciding he might as well lean into the bit. Since the game was explicitly called Mecha and its lore was a glaring, stitched-together rip-off of Warhammer, he was going to take the joke as far as it would go.
"The Imperium's Purest Inquisitor," he declared through his consciousness.
[In-game ID Confirmed: The Imperium's Purest Inquisitor]
[Name valid. No duplicates found]
[Next Step: Please select your path]
As the voice faded, the halos radiating from the three massive doors flared brightly in unison.
[The First Door: The Sacred Door]
The cold voice continued. Accompanying its words, the door on the far right shuddered violently. Ornate, magnificent golden reliefs began to surface across its exterior: massive Imperial Aquilas, cogs, laurel wreaths, and blazing pyres. A brilliant, sun-like golden light spilled through the cracks in the door frame, carrying a solemn, oppressive, yet awe-inspiring aura of absolute glory.
[Become a glorious member of the Mecha Imperium]
[Defend the Sacred Mecha Imperium and eradicate all heretics that escape humanity's control]
[Your path is paved with glory; you carry the crushing weight of loyalty to humanity]
[By choosing this door, you embrace order, defend tradition, and fight for the eternal hegemony of mankind]
[Glory is life. Loyalty is its own reward]
Vance's consciousness rippled.
This description... is way too Imperial. It's almost stereotypically rigid. Gold, glory, and purging heretics—it was the quintessential, orthodox propaganda of the Imperium.
[The Second Door: The Door of Chaos]
Immediately after, the door on the far left emitted a low, resonant thrum. The frame was forged from a dull, dark iron, covered in twisted, wicked spikes and feral runes. In certain places, it looked as though raw magma was flowing directly beneath the metallic surface. Eerie light—a sickly weave of dark red, purplish-black, and putrid green—seeped from the doorframe. It exuded an overwhelming, intoxicating aura of unbridled freedom, rampant indulgence, and the violent shattering of all restraints.
[Become a free Apostle of Chaos]
[Enjoy a life of freedom, devoid of control or restraint, and become the master of your own destiny]
[Power originates from within, and will dictates all]
[By choosing this door, you will shatter your chains, embrace infinite possibilities, and forge your own legend among the stars]
[The rules are yours to make, and the price is yours to bear]
The Chaos flavor is practically spilling out... Vance muttered inwardly.
The aesthetic of this door was basically a chaotic hodgepodge of the Four Gods: Khorne's violence, Tzeentch's strangeness, Nurgle's slime, and Slaanesh's temptation all rolled into one.
Freedom? In the Warhammer universe, the price of 'freedom' on the Chaos side is your literal soul. I wonder what the price is in this world?
[The Third Door: The Door of Dawn]
Finally, the central door pulsed with a quiet, steady light. It lacked the exaggerated, bombastic ornamentation of its neighbors. The door itself was cast from thick, smooth, dark-gray metal. Its only adornment was a simple emblem inlaid dead center, radiating a warm, crimson glow: a rising sun breaking through a dark horizon, hovering above a cluster of stars, a cogwheel, and a stalk of wheat.
The light bleeding from its cracks was a warm, resolute red. It wasn't blinding; instead, it carried a grounded, steadfast sense of destiny, like a slow march ever forward.
[Become a steadfast Martyr]
[Fight, explore, and forge an idealized utopia free from oppression and suffering, using your own blood and sweat]
[The road is long and fraught with thorns, but every step is taken on solid ground]
[By choosing this door, you will throw yourself into the most arduous of undertakings, fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with like-minded comrades, sacrificing everything for the inevitable dawn]
[The path is yours to pioneer, the hope is yours to protect]
A martyr? An idealized world?
Vance was genuinely taken aback. The vibe of this option was entirely different from the first two. It didn't lean into grand notions of glory or infinite freedom; instead, it highlighted words like "arduous," "thorns," and "sacrifice."
This description... doesn't it sound a lot like the rhetoric of idealistic revolutionaries? Trying to pull that off in a grimdark mecha universe? Isn't the tone a little out of place?
Three doors, three lights, and three distinct paths, all waiting silently in the endless void.
The mechanical voice rang out one last time.
[Choose your path]
[This choice will determine your starting faction, narrative trajectory, and baseline gameplay experience]
[Please consider carefully]
[You have three minutes to make your decision]
Vance's consciousness drifted back and forth between the three towering gates.
"My duty is to uphold order, strike down crime, and eradicate all chaos," he whispered to himself.
He looked at the Sacred Door. Its magnificent brilliance was undeniably compelling. As a die-hard fan of Warhammer's Imperium of Man, he knew full well that this type of imperial faction would likely be rotting, dogmatic, and rife with injustice. But at the very least, it maintained the baseline order of human civilization.
He then looked at the Door of Chaos.
Freedom, raw power, being utterly unbound... those concepts were incredibly seductive to anyone exhausted by the daily, crushing grind of modern life. But Vance knew the price of absolute freedom far too well. The hackers, fraudsters, and extremists he'd spent his career arresting? They had all started down the wrong path in the name of pursuing their own twisted versions of freedom. It was thrilling, sure, but the risks were astronomical, and he had a deep, psychological aversion to it. He was, after all, the Imperium's Purest Inquisitor.
And the Door of Dawn?
It was bizarre, and easily the one that piqued his curiosity the most.
The seconds ticked by. Ultimately, he stayed true to his heart. As a veteran, hardcore imperial loyalist, he was going to choose the Imperium faction, even in a bootleg asset-flip game.
"Are you kidding me? The Imperium of Man in Warhammer is corrupt as hell, and I'm still intensely loyal to it! Sure, your game's full-dive tech is insanely impressive for a cheap knockoff, but no matter how garbage your Imperium is, it can't possibly be worse than the Warhammer one! I'm not one of those guys who screams loyalty online and then chickens out when it's time to draft! I am the Imperium's most loyal Inquisitor! Damn it all! I choose—" Vance's consciousness locked onto the central door radiating crimson light, before he finished, "—the Sacred Door."
[Choice Confirmed: The Sacred Door]
[Faction Bound: Imperium of Man]
[Generating character vessel...]
[Connecting to servers...]
[Welcome to Epoch 40K: Mecha]
[May the God-Emperor be with you]
"Hold up, man. This God-Emperor stuff, why is it so..."
Before he could finish, the Sacred Door swung open. A beam of divine, golden light instantly shattered the pitch-black space, completely swallowing Vance's figure whole.
--
Lucian sat up on his couch, a flash of genuine surprise crossing his eyes.
"The first new player... actually chose the Sacred Door to the Imperium of Man? It seems the Imperium really does have an endless supply of die-hard loyalists. The Old Man on the Golden Throne, Guilliman, and Sanguinius really have left a deep impression on people."
He pulled up the system interface, watching the faction tag next to the ID 'The Imperium's Purest Inquisitor' flip from 'Unselected' to 'Imperium of Man'.
"Interesting. Very interesting."
He stood up, walked over to the window, and gazed up at the sun of hope hanging in the vault of his domain.
"So, one hundred thousand members of the Fourth Scourge... what kind of storm will you bring to this grand heresy that's about to tear the galaxy apart? I'm looking forward to it."
Outside the window, a crimson cloud had unknowingly drifted into the sky above his domain. The cloud layer slowly rotated, gradually forming the shape of a massive, churning vortex. Deep within the eye of the storm, the faint glimmers of countless consciousnesses could be seen, currently being pulled directly from the Earth of the normal universe.
There were still ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine more to go to hit the quota.
Lucian raised a hand. A massive holographic screen unfurled before his eyes, displaying a real-time data stream of the faction choices being made by the one hundred thousand closed-beta players.
At this exact moment, only three minutes remained until the absolute deadline for the game access login. Any access slots belonging to players who refused to log in would be automatically redistributed to others.
The data began to scroll rapidly.
The Sacred Door: 44.3%
The Door of Chaos: 39.1%
The Door of Dawn: 16.6%
"As expected, the vast majority of people will still flock to the options that seem the most orthodox or the most liberating."
Lucian wasn't surprised in the slightest. He looked at the 16.6% who had chosen Crimson Dawn. He looked at what those numbers represented—individual souls about to set foot on Aurelian IV, about to personally experience the cruel, crushing reality and the resilient hope that coexisted in the Warhammer universe...
He smiled.
"Whether you choose loyalty or Chaos... I have already set my board. Emperor, Four Gods... will you accept the grand gift I'm about to send you? Now then, let the game begin."
The final deadline countdown hit zero.
All access slots had been distributed; all beta testers had logged in.
[Epoch 40K: Mecha Second Closed Beta, officially launched.]
--
Goal = 900 Powerstones.
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