Warhammer: Sealed for Ten Thousand Years, the Emperor Begs Me to Lead His Troops

[Warhammer 40K + transmigration + return + setting things right + conquest + dark humor] Beneath Terra, in its deepest strata, a blackstone stasis sarcophagus carved with runes of the highest warning lay dormant for ten thousand years. The Inquisition's kill protocol had long been prepared: the moment the entity inside showed any sign of awakening, it would be exterminated! Then a modern military enthusiast, familiar with every despairing chapter of Warhammer 40K history, opened his golden eyes inside the coffin. The Eleventh Primarch. The forbidden son of the Imperium, his name erased and his existence sealed away for ten thousand years. 998.M41. The Great Rift is about to tear the galaxy apart, and Cadia is on the brink of collapse. The Imperium believes it has sealed away the most dangerous heretic, never realizing that the one it sealed away is the only savior this despairing universe has! He kicked the blackstone coffin lid to pieces and fought his way through Terra's deepest defenses, facing the Inquisition's bolters and the Grey Knights' force swords. As he stood with his boot on the High Lords' heads, surveying this Imperium rotten to its core with the eyes of someone who remembered the modern world, a voice that had been silent for ten thousand years suddenly boomed in his mind from the Golden Throne: “Go... find my sons.” From that day on, the Imperium changed its tune. He pinned the Ordo Hereticus to the ground and taught them some hard, physical “reasoning”; one slap was enough to wake the Black Templars from their fervor. And what about his overly capable little brother, Guilliman? “Lord Regent, you're doing a fine job running the Imperium. Still, there are a few things your big brother needs to teach you about the rules.” This time, Cadia will not fall, and there will be no despairing darkness. Anyone who dares stand in the way of the Imperium's restoration is getting chopped to pieces!