[Warhammer 40K] [Transmigration] [Delusional Misinterpretations] [Taking the Blame in Reverse] [Dark Humor] [Decisive and Ruthless] [Survival] [Anti-Trope]
After transmigrating into the dark universe of Warhammer 40K, Ron became a mass-produced agent in the Inquisition's top-secret Purge Bureau.
He looked around. His immediate superior was a secret follower of Khorne, and the bureau's key personnel were Tzeentchian spies. The only one in the entire bureau who wasn't an undercover agent was the Emperor himself.
Faced with the despairing depths of space, where entire planets could be wiped out at a moment's notice, Ron wanted nothing more than to slack off and survive to old age.
Then he discovered that stolen heretical relics could be forged into black technology, at the cost of attracting the Warp's gaze. But as long as he successfully passed the blame, he could clear his name.
So Ron began siphoning off loot and passing the buck at every turn: "I deliberately left this crate of forbidden relics as bait for him!"
The Tzeentchian spy was set up so badly he shut down and took the blame overnight, while the heretic leader cried out with his dying breath that Ron was the Emperor's fanatical hunting dog.
Years later, Ron sat in a position of power, decked out in divine gear and wearing a numb expression. I really just wanted to slack off. How did the entire universe come to see me as the Supreme Savior?
