Realspace.
Some remote corner of the galaxy.
A white orb, several meters across, materialized in the empty sky without warning. In the next instant it slammed into the ground with a blast like a cannon, gouging out a crater two or three meters deep.
When the light dissipated, a disheveled figure staggered into view.
He appeared to be a human male in his early twenties, dressed in clothing that looked like Earth fashion from a primitive era — roughly the period of 2000–2045 CE by style alone.
"...That teleport was a little violent."
Li Ming muttered to himself and slapped his forehead twice. Then, measuredly, he began to survey his surroundings.
Desolation. That was the first impression. The air was thin — thinner even than high-plateau regions — leaving him slightly breathless. Apart from a few tufts of scrub grass, there was almost no plant life. As for animals, only a few insectoids the size of mosquitoes crawled about.
'What kind of place is this?. More barren than Africa.' he thought, frowning.
He glanced up and saw two unfamiliar celestial bodies blazing in the sky, radiating light and heat.
His composure cracked.
"This damn place isn't even in the Solar System?" he swore inwardly, anger and fear tangling together.
He addressed his overlay without hesitation.
"System! Where am I now?"
[Original teleport coordinates: the world of "Godslayer." Teleportation was disturbed by a spacetime storm during transit; current coordinates unknown…]
Li Ming's pupils narrowed. An ominous feeling crept in.
"How do I get out of this world?" he demanded.
[Please wait while the system regathers energy. Estimated recovery time: 1,137 years.]
His patience evaporated. "What the fuck! I'm only twenty-five!"
[Host, do not panic. This system is the "Supreme Two-Dimensional System." According to diagnostics, this world is also a two-dimensional world, so the situation is manageable]
"Two-dimensional too?" Relief softened Li Ming's expression. He muttered to himself,
"Well, that's good. At worst I get transmigrated into another game world. Fine — first, I'll move away from this blasted wasteland and scout around."
Before he could finish the sentence, a tremendous clamor rolled from the distance: a mixture of bestial roars and heavy-machinery thunder. He frowned and turned toward the noise, then froze at the sight.
Dust filled the air as thousands of green figures approached, mounted atop crude vehicles that resembled heavy motorcycles. Their faces were alight with frenzy; crude weapons rattled at their hips. And then came the unmistakable war-cry that made his scalp prickle: "WAAAGHHH!"
Sweat ran cold down Li Ming's temple. He did not need to think long to identify them.
'Orks?'
As they drew closer, his system's translation module rendered their shouted language, confirming his suspicion.
"Capture that little shrimp!"
"Grab him!"
"WAAAAAGGHHH!!!"
Li Ming's inner monologue exploded:
"Fucking shit— Warhammer 40k? This counts as two-dimensional? This isn't even second-tier otaku stuff!"
When the system explained that "two-dimensional" broadly meant anime, novels, and games, Li Ming instantly regretted the clarification. He had once skimmed Warhammer lore; now the memory felt like bile in his mouth. Warhammer — whether Old World or 40k — was notoriously a transmigration deathtrap: without powerful augmentations, most crossovers ended badly.
Cursing under his breath, Li Ming fished a brilliantly colored golden pocket watch from his private space. Light flooded outward and wrapped him in a radiant aura.
"Moment of Blessing! Supreme Benevolence! Supreme Good! Supreme—
Supreme King of Might!
Ohma Zi-O!!"
With a transformation sound effect and full fanfare, a figure in full-body armor manifested. The armor was heavy, black and gold, adorned with band-like straps and watch-face motifs. Two clock-hand-like protrusions sat over the brow, and an electronic dial on the waist flickered with garbled numerals.
The thousand or so green skins froze, stunned. They had come to sightsee at the disturbance; none had ever seen a transformation effect like this.
For a moment Li Ming's display cowed them — then their faces lit up like treasure-eyed dragons. Greed and simple-minded imitation surged.
'That looks cool! I want one too!'
Under that primitive logic, the three-meter-tall ork leader plucked a one-meter-tall orkling from behind him, jammed it into the muzzle mounted at the front of his heavy bike, and used it as a projectile — then bellowed at the top of his lungs:
"WAGGGGGHHHH!!! Capture that little shrimp! Rip off his armor!!!"
At their leader's command, and driven by the spectacle of Li Ming's transformation, the orks erupted into a frenzy of whoops and roars: "Catch him! Catch him!"
Each hoped to seize a piece of his armor as spoils.
As their desire peaked, the orks' inborn racial trait — the crude, instinctive power of "I'm thinking so" — began to activate. Their strength and agility surged, preparing them for the assault.
....
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