The Emperor's justice: A Danmachi crossover

"Life is a debt to the Emperor, paid only in blood."

---

A partially destroyed statue of a goddess was faintly illuminated through the church's high, shattered windows. Despite the shrouded, ash-stained city outside, sunlight still reached this abandoned effigy, as if nature itself insisted on affirming its false divinity.

A rope had found its way around the neck of the goddess, secured with a tight knot.

"Emperor, purify this foul shrine," a young man muttered. His short black hair was matted, his body clothed in crude, blood-soaked bandages. He pulled the statue of the false deity down with all the strength his battered frame could muster.

The stone goddess crashed to the ground with thunderous finality, the head separating from the body and rolling aside, symbolizing the fall of its blasphemous reign.

Guardsman-38912-K was not wearing his mask. He cast his dull, dark eyes toward the place where the statue had once stood in mock authority. Without hesitation, he dipped his fingers into a small cup he had discovered near the altar.

It was filled with blood—his blood.

He would use it to consecrate this place anew, to scour the heresy from it, and to atone for what he is about to do. Every alien emblem, every corrupted scripture, every sigil of heretics had been torn down or burned. In their place, he marked the Emperor's holy wisdom—His blessings.

His wounds screamed in protest, but he did not care. Pain was irrelevant. Flesh was fleeting. He began painting the Aquila, the sacred sigil of the Imperium, on the cracked marble wall behind the altar.

With the mark complete, 38912-K stood straight and raised his hand in salute. Then, slowly, he bowed, knees shaking, forehead lowered in reverence. Before him was not just a symbol, but the only remaining tether to his purpose. To his faith. To the Emperor.

He prayed for strength, for guidance… and for forgiveness.

From his worn, standard-issue satchel, 38912-K slowly retrieved a vial of near-transparent, crystallized liquid.

An elixir—but of course, he didn't know that.

He had found a stash of them in the church's basement while scavenging for anything of worth. At first, he believed it to be water. But after a single cautious sip, the minor wounds littering his body had begun to knit themselves closed.

He had frozen.

He wanted to shatter every last one of the heretical vials. But… he didn't.

For all his unshakable faith, 38912-K knew one truth with perfect clarity: bullets and prayers alone wouldn't win a war against a whole world so thoroughly infested with heresy.

He placed the elixir before the Aquila, as if to present it for divine judgment. Shame curled in his chest as he bowed again and began to pray.

"O Immortal God-Emperor, Lord of Mankind, enthroned in golden radiance upon holy Terra, hear the plea of this unworthy servant," he began in low, reverent tones.

"I am cast far from Your holy light. Yet Duty is my bulwark. Sacrifice, my absolution. And through Your grace alone do I endure."

His eyes opened. He stared at the Aquila above.

"In this hour, this servant faces a hard choice. To wield such dark, unholy water, wrought by traitors, is to tread the precipice of heresy."

Despite the words of hesitation, his hand moved. 38912-K picked up the elixir.

"I am ashamed… but to fulfill the task You have set before me, I must partake of this forbidden act."

He raised the vial to his lips, voice steady.

"Grant me forgiveness for this sin. Let my soul remain untainted, my purpose unbroken, as I offer my life anew to Your eternal crusade."

He drank.

One gulp. Cold. Bitter. Heretical.

The effects were immediate.

His bones cracked audibly as they realigned. Bleeding flesh sealed beneath the bandages. Even his shattered leg snapped back into place with a pop and grind of moving sinew and bone. The agony was brief—and then, nothing.

The pain was gone.

He stood straighter now.

He saluted the Aquila once more, voice resolute.

"If this shameful act damns me, let it be so. For the Emperor, I live. For the Emperor, I die. For the Emperor, I beg absolution. Ave Imperator. Gloria in Excelsis Terra."

As the final words left his lips, so too did the last vestiges of suffering. The unholy water had restored him—perhaps even made him better than he had been before entering this world.

Flesh healed. Breath steady. Purpose renewed.

38912-K rose to his feet, testing his mended leg. He turned toward the basement—toward the place where he had discovered the stashed vials.

He had work to do.

He would carry out the Emperor's judgment to atone for this act.

---

"Let us through!"

"We're doomed! Damn Adventurers, let us through!"

"The Evils will get us!"

A crowd had formed at the western gate of Orario. While it wasn't the only route leading out of the city, this particular gate had become a floodpoint for panicked civilians. Its road led directly to the port city of Melen, where the carnage from Evilus hadn't reached.

"Damn it! Turn back, all of you! We can't protect you out there!" Falgar bellowed, his voice hoarse from hours of shouting. The war tiger and his fellow familia members had been hired by the Guild to assist Ganesha Familia with crowd control and, more quietly, to watch for suspected agents of Evilus hidden among the masses.

Perseus of Hermes Familia and Ankusha of Ganesha Familia stood shoulder to shoulder at the bridge near the gates, eyes locked ahead. Beyond them, through the smoke and heat haze, Evilus could be waiting for the next opportunity to strike fear into the hearts of the innocent.

"This is bad," Asfi Al Andromeda muttered. She watched as a rock struck Falgar in the face. The crowd was turning violent. Falgar didn't flinch, choosing to absorb the blow rather than retaliate if it meant they wouldn't break through.

"If this escalates into a riot, we'll need more numbers," said Shakti Varma beside her, voice clipped and precise. But beneath her outward calm, grief churned. Her sister was dead. She hadn't had time to mourn.

She would. Just not now.

"We can't afford a riot!" Asfi snapped. Her aqua eyes swept over the crowd, wary. "We're already beginning to lose the civilians' trust. If they turn on the Adventurers, we'll become no different from Evilus in their eyes."

Shakti didn't respond. What could she say? She knew Asfi was right.

But Finn's orders were clear: let no one through the gates.

Among the angry, desperate, wild-eyed civilians, a pale, dark-haired young man stood silently, eyes scanning the environment.

Guardsman-38912-K was fully geared, though he had removed his mask to blend more easily with the heretics.

He looked hardly different from the others around him. With armor and weapons, he could easily be mistaken for an Adventurer.

He had come to this gate to observe and gather information about the heretics. And he understood exactly what was happening: the traitors were turning on their leaders, driven by fear and desperation.

He gripped the strap of his satchel tightly, resisting the near-overwhelming urge to draw his lasgun and begin purging.

"Damn Adventurers!" shouted a man beside him. He was lightly armored and carried a rock almost the size of a grenade. With a cry of rage, he hurled it toward the wall of Adventurers holding the crowd back.

The gates ahead were old, scorched, and heavily damaged—likely weakened by the attacks from the previous night. They might've once been sturdy. Now, they were fragile.

38912-K began forming a plan in his mind.

What's the best way to drain an enemy? One way is to turn their masses against them.

The man beside him stopped short as 38912-K placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You want to get out?" he asked, voice flat and emotionless, his unblinking eyes locked forward.

The man hesitated. There was something off about the stranger—but he nodded frantically. "More than anything! The Evils will kill us all!"

He was barely a Level One. Another wave would be the end of him.

"I will assist you," 38912-K said. And for a brief moment, the man looked hopeful.

That hope died as the guardsman pulled a frag grenade from his tattered satchel, yanked the ignition pin free, and shoved the weapon into his hands.

"Is this a—IS THIS A BOMB?!" the man squeaked, nearly dropping it.

No one around them noticed. The crowd was too loud.

"I'll distract the guards. Aim for the gates," 38912-K ordered.

This was a calculated risk on his part, trusting a damned heretic with such a task.

But 38912-K was a veteran of many sieges, and his experience told him that desperation led to fragile loyalty—and the heretics were desperate right now.

The man froze, mouth agape.

He could report this guy. Maybe he'd be rewarded. Maybe the Guild would protect him.

But his eyes flicked to the gates.

That was freedom.

That was escape.

He tightened his grip around the grenade. "I'll do it."

38912-K didn't reply as he moved into the crowd, disappearing among the packed bodies like the wind.

Seconds ticked by. The man waited, Sweating and shaking.

Still no distraction.

His eyes darted around. No one noticed him.

He was terrified the bomb would explode in his hand.

Then—

FWOSH!

"AHHHHH!"

A loud noise split the air. Screams followed. The crowd jolted. People surged and shoved. Ahead, an Adventurer pointed at one section. "HEY! YOU—STOP RIGHT THERE!"

That was 38912-K, and there were bodies on the ground. The chaos had begun with a simple shot from his laspistol into one unsuspecting civilian—the shot tearing through him to hit multiple others.

38912-K didn't stop, blending into the crowd as the Adventurer who saw him began trailing behind.

The man with the bomb didn't wait. With a yell, he threw the grenade toward the gates.

Falgar, being at the center, saw the object flying above their heads, his eyes widening in realization.

BOOM!

The lower parts of the gates exploded inward with a sharp crack. Fire and shrapnel tore into the supports, while the upper gate remained intact.

There was an opening.

"THE GATES ARE DOWN—GET OUT! GET OUT!" someone howled.

The crowd surged forward like a flood, smashing through the Adventurers' human wall. Falgar and the others were pushed back, unable to stop the tide.

"STOP! TURN BACK!" they shouted. It was no use.

They'd lost control.

Asfi and Shakti watched in horror as the crowd surged out of Orario, straight into the open land beyond.

It was exactly what they had feared.

"Hahaha! Kill the bugs before they escape!"

A mocking voice echoed from the city walls.

The Followers of Evil had been there the whole time, waiting for the perfect moment to attack.

Now, it had come.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Explosions rained down from the battlements, ripping through the civilians at the gates. Fire and blood filled the air.

"HELP!"

"WE'RE DOOMED!"

The Adventurers snapped into motion, scrambling to retake the walls or pull survivors back through the broken gate.

"Damn it, move!" Shakti yelled. She and Asfi charged toward the gate, both of them desperate to stop the slaughter.

Elsewhere, far from the chaos, 38912-K slung his laspistol back into its holster, the corpse of the Adventurer who had followed him was laying before his feet.

He watched the carnage ahead from a crumbling alleyway.

His lips didn't smile in satisfaction. But his duty was fulfilled.

This settlement was in internal conflict, its people at each other's throats.

And they were multiplying the fruits of his labor for him.

He had planned a violent riot to turn the masses against their leaders.

Instead, he had a slaughter. The cultists had occupied the settlement's walls and were dropping bombs on the people left and right, the other heretics unable to do much more than try to evacuate the people to a safer distance.

With his work done, he turned away and began walking to the south.

For the Emperor's judgment was far from complete.

---

At the Guild headquarters, the air was tense. Guild employees were now more than just receptionists and minor bureaucrats, they were managing an entire front in a war-torn city.

Inside the temporary war room, Finn Deimne, captain of the Loki Familia and hero of the Pallums, listened to the furious words of Royman Mardeel, the head of the Guild.

"I understand that you knew this would happen and decided not to act upon it?!" Royman accused with a shaky breath, his overweight frame doing little to steady him.

"Whoa, whoa, Roy-Roy! That's a serious accusation you're throwing at the person who's going to save your asses!" Loki, the red-headed goddess who had been quietly listening to Royman's rant, raised her hands in Finn's defense.

"The Evils have occupied the walls! We're besieged—sitting ducks!" Royman barked, clearly rattled by the incoming reports. The situation was dire.

"Royman, I believe you understand how war works, do you not?" Finn spoke, his tone calm, though the unfolding disaster troubled him deeply.

He had anticipated a siege from the beginning. He suspected the Evils would try to occupy the walls to choke the city—cutting off supplies and fueling public terror.

That was why he'd given strict orders to keep civilians away from Orario's gates, hoping to minimize casualties in the event of a takeover. He couldn't spare the resources for a grander defense—not just because of the cost, but because too much visible protection might have made civilians even more paranoid about their safety.

Alas, it had all been for nothing.

The western gate, the most crowded one, faced a violent riot. The Ganesha and Hermes Familias stationed there couldn't contain the panic. Amid the chaos, an Evilus agent cracked open the gate, luring panicked civilians toward their doom.

The Evils took the walls and immediately bombarded the gates, killing as many as they could. By the time Adventurers managed to evacuate survivors to safer ground, many had already fallen.

His calculations had been off.

Royman scoffed. "I understand it perfectly, Mr. Deimne. But hundreds of civilians dying because of a miscalculation is a morale disaster!" He clenched his fist.

It was unfortunate, Finn admitted inwardly, but he had already considered the possibility of such an outcome if his preparations failed.

And… those were hundreds fewer mouths to feed. More were dying elsewhere from Evilus attacks.

It sounded cold. But with each death, the odds of surviving a starvation scenario improved.

"Roy-Roy, don't be so unreasonable," Loki said, waving a hand dismissively. "Finn's done more than anyone else to give this city even a fighting chance." Her tone shifted to something grimmer. "Casualties are inevitable."

Royman gritted his teeth and turned sharply. "Just make sure not to turn the people against us with more miscalculations, Mr. Deimne." With that, the Guild head stormed out, leaving Loki and Finn alone.

"He's insufferable," Loki sighed, her voice weary. Last night had been a nightmare, and now they had half a dead city to manage.

Finn nodded. "You're not wrong… but he has a point." He stood, heading for the door. "We need more eyes on Evilus agents. They're more entrenched in our ranks than we realized." With that, he left Loki to relay the next set of orders.

Valleta's claws were everywhere. He had to defang the threat fast before more fell.

It was still salvageable. His plans wouldn't need alteration… yet.

---

Meanwhile, among the ranks of the Evils, Valleta burst into laughter upon hearing the report from the western gates.

"Hahaha! Eat that, shitheads!" she cackled, flashing a toothy grin toward the broken city as if mocking its very existence.

Olivas, still visibly shaken from the brutal interrogation Erebus had forced him to endure, couldn't help but crack a smirk at the news as well.

"Was it one of ours?" he asked, curious. They did have undercover agents scattered throughout Orario, but none had the resources, audacity, or luck to pull off something like this and walk away uncaptured.

Valleta's yellow eyes gleamed with wicked satisfaction. "Hell if I know!" she laughed, her voice laced with venomous glee. "As long as he's fucking the adventurers for us, he might as well be!"

This was only the first day of the siege, merely the start.

And the unknown person who had made the west gates massacre possible had helped them deliver a grand, bloody proclamation:

Orario was at their mercy.

---

Lightning split the sky apart, and then rain began pouring through, washing away the sins of Orario.

"AHHHH GOD, STOP!"

In the southwestern district of this heretical city, inside a partially destroyed rectangular building that looked as though it had been ruptured from within by an explosion, a devout follower of the God-Emperor of Mankind was torturing a cultist for information.

His sharp, Death Korps of Krieg-issued mono-knife was cutting with brutal precision, carefully peeling the chest skin off the screaming heretic.

The Guardsman's helmet was on. Its lenses were empty, yet burned with judgment as they fixed upon the cultist's wet, terrified eyes.

"Aha—please! I told you everything I know!!" the cultist pleaded, his voice trembling with pure terror and agony. His body was covered in countless blade cuts, a good portion of his skin already stripped away.

"What is this 'Familia' ?" Guardsman-38912-K asked in a flat, emotionless tone, as though the horrific act he was committing was no more unusual than performing daily maintenance on his gear.

The cultist sobbed like a child. "I-it's the gods' groups!" he blurted out. "They give blessings to us when we join their Familia!!"

38912-K nearly executed the heretic then and there for calling those warp-spawned abominations 'gods.'

"Warp-channeling through proxies…" he muttered, analyzing the information. These heretics gained power through unholy pacts with warp entities masquerading as deities.

And the only way to terminate such a contract would likely be through the extermination of the warp-spawned entity to which they were bound.

After leaving the western gates, Guardsman-38912-K had hunted for more heretics to butcher. So far, his targets had been small, insignificant vermin, non-combatant traitors. He had, of course, interrogated a few for environmental information, but none had survived his methods for long.

That was until he came upon this particular cultist group. He had purged the others with his lasgun, crippled this one, and dragged him into the nearest building—an ideal environment for interrogation.

This one, fortunately, had lasted long enough to reveal key details about the world he'd found himself in: a settlement called the Labyrinth City of Orario. Two factions were at war—though he had already discerned that from observation.

Adventurers, led by some kind of centralized guild and empowered by warp entities, were battling a Chaos cultist organization known as "Evilus," who were also empowered by warp entities.

Even more disturbing was the knowledge that this settlement had been built atop a naturally occurring warp breach, one that allowed all manner of daemons to enter this realm and slaughter the heretical humans and xenos who inhabited it.

It was no less than they deserved for worshiping false idols and forsaking the light of the Emperor.

"P-please stop, I beg you!" the cultist wailed again, his mind broken from the continuous flood of agony and fear.

38912-K sheathed his knife. His expressionless mask offered no hint of mercy or purpose, but the cultist's hopes rose nonetheless.

"Who's there?!" a voice called from the entrance of the ruined building—more cultists, likely.

Without hesitation, 38912-K drew his laspistol and aimed it directly at the wounded heretic. The cultist's bloodshot eyes widened in horror.

"In the name of the Emperor, I cast you down," the Guardsman intoned, and pulled the trigger.

The cultist's head partially exploded in a flash of light, death was instantaneous.

"Upstairs! There's someone there!" shouted one of the new arrivals. The sound of hurried footsteps followed, rushing toward the Guardsman's location.

38912-K did not panic.

He readied his laspistol and pulled out his trench shovel, intent on conserving his lasgun's charge pack for greater foes.

It will be enough.

---

Ryuu ran. Much like a frightened child would flee from ghosts, she ran from her reality and beliefs crumbling apart.

Her friend Ardee had died a death so brutal not even her body remained.

The very people she was protecting, whom she and her Familia had sworn to uphold justice for, now turned against them. They blamed them for not saving their beloved ones.

Her faith in justice was cracking. And when she sought clarity from Alise, her captain had no answers to offer.

She was already at the tipping point, and the final straw came when Shakti, Ardee's older sister, disregarded her death as "foolish" and meaningless.

That made her snap.

She ran away from the crumbling walls of her once-naïve perspective of justice and the world.

If she saw a cultist, she cut them down, then resumed her aimless sprint.

She couldn't forgive herself, couldn't spare herself a moment of comfort, couldn't even begin to make sense of her shattered world.

She just wanted to take out cultists, to help people until she was no longer able to.

Her legs skidded to a stop in front of a very familiar building. The rain did little to wash away its soot-covered walls, its rectangular shape now partially destroyed.

This was supposed to be an Evilus hideout, the place where their reign would finally end.

Instead, it had become the start of these hellish times... and the end of Ardee.

Ryuu's eyes poured like the rain as her legs began to move, carrying her body on their own into the building.

The place was abandoned. The spot where Ardee once stood... empty.

Just as she turned her eyes away from the scene, too overwhelmed, a loud thud echoed behind one of the corridor doors.

She clenched her weapon tightly, expecting an attack.

"Someone help!" The door burst open. A panicked, injured cultist wearing bloodied white robes stumbled out, screaming for aid.

Before Ryuu could register what was happening, a... shovel came flying from inside the room.

That was an odd choice of weapon.

"Agh!" The shovel stabbed deep into the cultist's back, halting his frantic escape and dropping him to the floor.

Ryuu watched as a man emerged from the room. He wore a dirty greatcoat with light armor on top. But what stood out most was his terrifying, bird-like mask. Behind its lenses: nothing, just emptiness.

His movements were deliberate, cold, and menacing as he stalked toward the crawling cultist.

Guardsman 38912-K was successful on his hunt.

The cultist caught sight of Ryuu. He reached a hand toward her as he crawled.

"Help!" he pleaded.

He was not in luck.

38912-K grabbed his shovel and tore it free from the cultist's back, the sound of flesh ripping as the heretic howled in pain.

The cultist flipped onto his back, his eyes wide with terror. "Mercy!" he cried, raising his arms in surrender.

38912-K offered none.

With a final, brutal swing, he brought the shovel down and cracked open the cultist's skull. Death was immediate as blood painted the surroundings.

Ryuu stood frozen in shock. She didn't want to interfere.

This was an adventurer... right? They were authorized to kill cultists.

But was this level of brutality necessary?

38912-K turned his gaze to her and pointed his shovel at her. "Xeno scum," he muttered with disgust.

Despite Ryuu's mask, he could clearly see her pointed ears.

Ryuu's eyes widened in alarm at the sudden hostility. Weren't they on the same side?

"Hey, we are on—" she began, attempting to de-escalate the tension at the possible misunderstanding.

Unfortunately, she didn't get the chance.

A small, blonde figure appeared at the end of the corridor. The new arrival caught both the elf and the Guardsman's attention.

It was Ais Wallenstein.

The Sword Princess was originally with her mother figure and mentor, Riveria, but had split from her and followed the noise inside the building.

Ais tilted her head at the strange scene—a masked elf, a strangely dressed man, and a body lying between them.

A cultist body.

The man was pointing both a bloodied shovel and an iron stick at the elf. Ais processed the scene quickly.

He must have been the one who killed the cultist. That made the masked elf the suspicious one.

"Are you one of them?" Ais asked Ryuu, ignoring 38912-K entirely.

Ryuu's eyes widened in disbelief. "What—no, I'm not!" she nearly shouted. Why was she accusing her!?

Ais tilted her head again. "But you're wearing a mask," she pointed out. Evilus wore masks, didn't they?

Ryuu's eyes twitched. "He's wearing one too!" she snapped, pointing at 38912-K, who was already calculating his strike.

He was flanked—one target in front, another behind. He would need a decisive moment...

Ais looked thoughtful. "Yes... but he took one down, which means he's not with them." She unsheathed her sword. "I need to take you down to be sure," she declared in a flat tone, as if it were a simple, logical decision.

Ryuu was at a loss for words. "W-what!?" she stammered. "We don't need to fight! We are—"

FWOSH!

38912-K seized the moment of confusion and fired his laspistol at the elf. The shot ripped through the air like thunder.

Ryuu's reflexes kicked in. She tried to dodge—something she could manage against nearly any other ranged weapon in the world.

But not against a laser-based weapon that fired at the speed of light.

"Aghhh!" Ryuu's eyes watered as she screamed in pain. The red-hot beam tore through her shoulder, forming a precise hole that poured blood.

What was that weapon? How was it so fast? These questions were left unanswered as the Sword Princess lunged toward her in a blur. Ryuu raised her weapon mid-air and kicked back to create distance.

38912-K struggled to aim properly. They were far faster than his sight.

Still, he leveled his laspistol at the child heretic and fired again.

"Grrgh!"

The beam grazed Ais's thigh, leaving a burning welt.

Ais turned toward him—she had finally figured it out.

He wasn't on their side.

"Come here, you little brat!" Ryuu growled, forcing Ais to block her incoming strike. Their weapons clashed with violent sparks.

38912-K kept firing, relying on instinct and reflex to hit something.

The two females danced through the corridor, his shots barely missing or grazing their skin with searing pain.

Ais suddenly disengaged and turned her focus on the shooter in annoyance, a burning mark on her cheek from a lucky strike.

She bolted toward him.

38912-K braced himself. He raised his shovel just in time to block the incoming slash, but the impact knocked him off balance.

Ais twisted her body, smacked the back of her blade into 38912-K's helmet, then swept his legs out from under him.

38912-K crashed to the floor.

Thinking she had neutralized the threat, Ais turned back to the elf, who had used the brief moment to bandage her shoulder.

"Let's continue," Ais said flatly.

But before she could move, her instincts screamed danger.

She turned—

Only for a shovel to slam into her face hard enough to dent it slightly.

38912-K might have felt his skull crack from the hit, but he was not down from a mere sword hilt.

Ais stumbled slightly from the blow, then launched a powerful sideways kick, slamming into 38912-K's side.

Crack!

Ribs broke.

He was sent flying away.

Right through a shattered window.

"Oops," Ais muttered. She hadn't meant to kick that hard. She thought he could handle that.

Oh well.

She turned back to the elf, ready to continue the fight without further interruptions.

Meanwhile, 38912-K landed with a thud in a pile of rubble. The debris softened the impact.

He lay there for a moment, trying to register his surroundings, then slowly began to rise.

Damn heretics. Their strength was far beyond his own.

He steadied himself, not caring for the searing pain in his head and ribs. He weighed his options.

He could return and try to purge them.

...

In the end, the son of Krieg made an uncharacteristic decision: retreat, for now, to cause more damage later.

He had learned much from the cultist's interrogation. That knowledge needed to be preserved and used to ensure this world suffered for its sins against the God-Emperor.

And he had to live for that to happen.

And so, the son of Krieg began walking away, back to his den, tending to his wounds and preparing to unleash further agony on this cursed settlement.

With his retreat, the second day of the Seven Days of Blood came to a close.

The third day had begun.

---

The End

---

Note: Sorry for any Warhammer 40K or Danmachi lore mistakes, this is just a fun fanfic nothing too serious

I gave Krieger a bit more personality this time

Anyway, just a heads-up: Krieger's gonna be using some heretical items to win. Hope you don't mind dear reader, but he kinda needs the edge

He's just a regular dude in a world full of actual gods

To help him survive a little longer, I made it so his lasgun and laspistol can one-shot level 1s, 2s, and 3s, Level 4s take a lot of shots to go down, and level 5s? Practically invincible—impossible to even see, let alone kill

I think that's a fair way to give him a fighting chance. Don't forget, adventurers move crazy fast, he would barely be able to aim at them properly

So yeah, the advantage is necessary, Helps the story move forward

Also, when I asked if I should shatter the timeline… didn't think people would actually be on board with that lol

But hey, since you guys want it, I'll do my best to make it happen!

It's only day three, the timeline runs for seven days before that monster hits the surface

Plenty of time to wreck Finn and Valleta's plans!

Thanks for reading.