Traveling through time, I'm making pancakes in Warhammer

If a baby in the womb were self-aware, their best option, knowing they were about to be born into the Warhammer universe, would be to strangle themselves with their umbilical cord before birth.

Howard remembered that before he traveled through time, he had seen someone calculate the recommended index of time travel in various worlds, and Warhammer was always the lowest one. It was said that he had done many evil things in his previous life, so he was reincarnated as Warhammer in this life.

The darkest part of the Warhammer world is that death is not the end, because in the strange warp there are countless filthy creatures, greedily watching the souls of all living things, and as soon as the living beings' bodies in the real universe collapse and their souls enter the warp, they will rush in and feast on them.

The devoured soul will suffer endless torture in eternity.

Howard suddenly felt a chill as he remembered that people said his hands were kissed by God.

This is not a good thing.

Thinking of this, he quickly picked up the barrel and returned to the room, then locked the door.

He didn't want to have anything to do with the Empire or Chaos, and judging by the fact that the people here called those visitors "angels", it seemed that a certain golden guy had already died in the current timeline.

The big golden guy is the Emperor, the Lord of Mankind, and the most powerful psychic in the human race.

It is rumored that he existed before humans built the first city. The Emperor had been watching over humanity in the dark, but at the end of the 20th millennium, humanity fell into unprecedented chaos due to the rebellion of artificial intelligence and the storm of the warp. The Emperor also stepped out of the dark and onto the stage of history, leading humanity forward once again.

But in the end, due to the conspiracy of the evil gods of the Warp and the limitations of the Emperor himself, the Lord of Mankind not only failed to realize his ideals, but was also bound to a psychic energy extraction device called the "Golden Throne". From then on, the Emperor could only protect the dead souls of mankind and became a gradually decaying statue.

From then on, there was no more hope for mankind in the galaxy, only endless war and despair.

No! You can't let your imagination run wild. In this pitiful world, even ominous thoughts can bring misfortune.

So Howard started counting prime numbers in his mind.

2、3、5、7、11、13、17、19……

This is his way of forcing himself not to think too much. The human brain has limited capacity and is single-threaded. When all the computing power is focused on one thing, people will no longer think about other things.

Almost half an hour passed like this, and Howard counted to 241. He felt like his head was going to smoke before he finally calmed down.

call--

Traveling back to Warhammer is not necessarily a bad thing. If you travel back to the early days of the Great Crusade or before the Iron Rebellion, the Warhammer world is just a slightly corrupt future world, and the material life is definitely better than 3k.

Even if you travel back to an era when the golden giant sits on the toilet, it is not particularly difficult to spend your life in a marginal star zone away from the main battlefield of the Warhammer world.

The empire has more than four million planets, and it is impossible to fight on every one of them. Although the entire galaxy is in turmoil from a macro perspective, the peaceful era on some deserted planets can last for several or even more than a dozen eras.

The world he is in now should be an agricultural world on the edge of the empire. It doesn't even have an airport. Generally speaking, it will not have any strategic value unless the bugs attack.

Howard felt more at ease thinking this way. So what if it was Warhammer? At worst, he could just be a farmer for the rest of his life, and when he died, he'd sleep before the throne of the Golden Giant, just like living in ancient times.

Howard comforted himself, thinking that perhaps those people riding the Thunder Eagle airship were just here to collect taxes as usual.

"Knock, knock, knock!" At this time, someone knocked hard on Howard's door.

Oh my god! Don’t!

Howard was so scared that he almost jumped up. If someone came to his door, it was probably not a good thing.

So Howard decided to play dead.

"Boom boom boom!"

But the visitor did not give up. He knocked hard on Howard's door and shouted into the house: "Mr. Howard, the lord wants you to go to the manor to prepare a banquet for him."

How to do?

Howard's nerves were stretched to a taut level, his eyes moving quickly and chaotically around the room, finally stopping on a hunting knife hanging on the wall.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!" The visitor seemed to have lost patience with Howard's silence. He stopped knocking on the door and started kicking it, shouting, "Howard! Come out! The lord said that even if you die, we must bring your body with us!"

Howard stumbled and crawled to the wall on his hands and knees. He took down the hunting knife from the wall. He had never used the knife since he bought it, and it was now covered with blue scars.

He huddled in the corner, holding the hunting knife tightly in both hands, facing the door of the house. At this time, the people outside no longer knocked or kicked the door, but started to smash it. Although the door of this house was stronger than ordinary ones, it could not hold out for long.

It's time to make a choice, death, or a life worse than death.

Howard swallowed, cold sweat running down his forehead.

So he changed his grip to the knife in his left hand, and then slowly moved the blade to the position of his right arm.

If I lose my right hand, my work or labor will be worthless.

He has saved enough money now, which is enough for him to live to old age even if he doesn't work in the future.

In Warhammer, the greatest fortune for ordinary people is to die peacefully.

Thinking of this, Howard gritted his teeth, took a deep breath, then raised his hunting knife and chopped down at his right hand.

"boom!"

At this moment, the house broke open, but it was not the door that was broken. Instead, the wall behind Howard, which was made of bricks and mortar, was penetrated by a large hand wearing red armor. Then, the large hand grabbed the blade that Howard had chopped down with incredible speed and precision. The large hand suddenly clenched, and the hunting knife made of fine steel immediately became a twisted pile of scrap metal. Then, the large hand grabbed Howard and pulled him out of the crack.

Astartes.

Howard determined the other party's identity the moment the big hand broke through the wall, and his heart fell to the bottom.

The Astartes, the sword of the Empire, were created by the Emperor at the beginning of the 30th Era using his own genetic offspring as templates to create these superhuman soldiers. It is said that a company of Astartes with a hundred men can completely conquer the civilization of a planet and bring them into the real universe. Each of them can almost beat three or four Captain Americas on the panel.

Astartes are valuable assets to the Imperium and are generally only sent to carry out the most dangerous and urgent missions.

To put it simply, if the purpose was simply to collect taxes, they would never send an Astartes unless the planet's lord resisted the tax.

When the smoke and dust cleared, Howard finally saw the true face of the Astartes.

He was a giant, nearly two and a half meters tall, clad in tightly-fitting red ceramite power armor. Its surface was covered in battle scars, and even a massive gash on the chest, a gash that had ripped through the ceramite and sealed with the blood of the Astartes. On his back, the giant carried a power pack with an image of a saint and a church spire, its cooling vents on either side spewing scorching gases.

The giant had a bolter and pulse pistol loaded with ammunition belts hanging on his waist, and a standard chainsword bigger than Howard slung on his back.

The giant's chest is adorned with winged red drops of blood.

Blood Angels.

The angel looked down at Howard, his hand on the bolter, but when he saw that Howard did not act violently, he took off his helmet, and there were three golden nails on the angel's forehead.

"Citizens of the Empire, what are you afraid of?"

after an hour

The kitchen of the lord's manor.

Howard changed into a white chef's uniform and a tall chef's hat, and made pancakes with the help of dozens of servants.

The Astartes just now stood by like a statue, watching everything vigilantly.

After the pancakes were out of the pan and placed on a plate, the angel spoke:

"Don't you need to chant a spell or say a prayer?"

Howard shook his head and thought to himself, first, I don't know any spells to pray, and second, even if I did, I'm afraid I'd be betrayed the moment I opened my mouth in front of you armored brothers.

Then, under the supervision of Astarte, Howard carried the pancake all the way through the luxurious and decadent corridor of the lord's manor and delivered it to the lord's dining table.

Although this was the lord's table, the diners at it were not the lord, but seven or eight Astartes. Because human chairs were too small, they stood solemnly on both sides of the table, staring at Howard as he delivered the pancakes to the main seat, which was in front of their company commander.

All the Astartes warriors had damage or blood on their armor, as if they had just fought a fierce battle.

As for the lord and his servants, they stood farther away, looking at the giants in fear.

"Are you the pastor?" the company commander asked Howard.

"I've served food to churches, but I'm not a pastor," Howard replied calmly.

As soon as these words were spoken, the lord's men behind him began to whisper.

Howard understood why the lord and others had such a reaction, because in the eyes of the citizens of the Empire, the Astartes were real angels, servants of the God-Emperor. It would be considered disrespectful for mortals to speak to the Astartes without the Sky Eagle Salute.

But now Howard was numb, or rather, in a state somewhere between numbness and extreme rationality. He understood that the Astartes before him were Blood Angels, and that they were very good-tempered even when not in a rage. They wouldn't split him in half with an axe for a little disrespect.

As expected, the company commander didn't pursue Howard's "disrespect" and instead ordered the angel on his left, "Analyze the ingredients."

The technical sergeant on the left took out something that looked like a bread machine. He cut Howard's pancake into two halves - the pancake was as thin as a spicy strip in Astarte's huge hands - and threw the cut half into the machine.

The strange bread maker made a rumbling sound, and finally the valve opened, releasing a burst of steam and an analysis report.

The analysis report shows that this pancake is composed of starch, water, oil, sugar, salt, protein and cellulose, and everything is normal.

After confirming that there were no strange ingredients, the company commander picked up the remaining pancake under the gaze of everyone, put it in his mouth, closed his eyes, and chewed it carefully and slowly.

At the same moment, the other Astartes warriors drew their bolters and aimed them at Howard. If the captain made any mistake, they would turn Howard into dust.

After the captain swallowed the food in his mouth, he opened his eyes, looked at Howard, and gave orders to the other Astartes:

"Take it away, Inquisition."