Warhammer 40K + System + Invincible + Antelope Beef Can
While other people who transmigrated into Warhammer became Space Marines or psykers, I ended up as a can of antelope beef that had expired a full ten thousand years ago!
I should have been pried open and stewed by scavengers. Luckily, my soul awakened in symbiosis with the can, activating the [Warp I Ching Divination Psychic System], which refreshes an auspicious or inauspicious special hexagram every day!
The daily hexagram refreshes at random: an extremely auspicious one leads to an armory or an ancient machine spirit; an extremely inauspicious one draws enemies in to surround me, letting me turn the tables and harvest vast amounts of nutrients. Exclusive special hexagrams unlock the source powers of the corresponding factions!
I can freely change the shape of my body, parasitizing, hiding, and infiltrating the Inquisition, the Adeptus Mechanicus, and noble estates, while juggling multiple identities among the various factions.
My talent for devouring all things is maxed out. Flesh, metal, radiation, Warp psychic energy, plague-mutated creatures: I can consume it all!
I gather the downtrodden and discarded servitors to establish a can-symbiosis cult. I invade Slaanesh’s pleasure worlds and assimilate Daemonettes, then face the Tyranids and fuse with their hive carapaces. I serve neither the Imperium nor the Four Dark Gods.
When a priest of the Imperial Cult sprinkles me with holy water and cries, “Purge the heretic!” my parasitic tendrils have already seeped into the church’s foundations.
When an Inquisitor of the Ordo Xenos locks onto my coordinates, my spare cans have already spread across the sector. His arrival is just another new opportunity in the hexagram.
When the Four Dark Gods roar at me from the Warp, I remain unmoved. Flesh, machinery, desire, and decay: all are powers in my hands.
My church stands at the very bottom of a hive city, and my relics are rows of miniature replica cans of antelope beef.
I never preach. I simply offer them a choice when they’re desperate.
Follow me, or become my nourishment.
