Chapter 1: The Fierce Battlefield and the Monster Cultivation System

“Loyalty! For the Emperor! Brave soldiers of the Imperium, wipe out these damned xenos!”

A man in a green military overcoat, clad in black carapace armor, sporting a peaked cap, gripped a chainsword in one hand and a pistol in the other as he bellowed these words.

Beside him, a squad of frenzied Astra Militarum troopers unleashed a hail of las-fire into the onrushing swarm.

Before them stretched an endless, surging tide of Tyranid creatures, a ceaseless flood as far as the eye could see, charging madly forward—every variety of Tyranid monstrosity among their ranks.

“Sacrifice is the Imperium’s cornerstone, blood its fertile soil—fight bravely!” Young Battle Sisters, clad in power armor and wielding chainswords, cut down swathes of Tyranids in the thick of the melee.

“For the Imperium! Praise the Glorious God-Emperor! Sisters, may our souls return to the Golden Throne after death!” Other Battle Sisters fired their bolters relentlessly into the horde.

Beyond these Battle Sisters and Astra Militarum, there were others—giants, each over seven feet tall, encased in full suits of power armor in varying colors, their arms thicker than most men’s thighs. They effortlessly hefted massive chainswords and bolters that ordinary humans would struggle to lift with both hands, pouring their wrath into the Tyranid masses.

These were the Space Marines of the Imperium, the Adeptus Astartes—Angels of Death, servants of the Emperor.

Rhode, hiding beneath a massive boulder, forced a bitter smile. The sheer inhuman physique, the imposing power armor, the twin-headed eagle on their chests, the oversized chainswords and bolters in their hands—along with the fervent Battle Sisters and unmistakable Astra Militarum—it all made it unmistakably clear: this was the grimdark universe of Warhammer 40,000.

All I did was stay up all night on my phone, Rhode thought. Did I really have to be thrown into this place—so dangerous, dark, and hopeless?

If I had to cross over, fine! Why not send me to a Hive World or a Forge World? I could endure that. But to throw me onto a war-torn planet, in the midst of an all-out battle—what is that supposed to mean?

And the enemy—Tyranids, of all things! Is this the highest difficulty setting right from the start? Against the Tyranids, there’s only fight or die—there is no third option.

These monsters are merciless engines of slaughter, devouring every organic thing in their path.

Rhode was so tense he considered whether it might be better to simply end himself quickly, but the instinct to survive kept him from making such a decision. After all, a miserable life beats a glorious death.

There are still Space Marines fighting on this planet, which means it hasn’t been abandoned yet—there may be hope.

Perhaps they’ll drive back the swarm, or maybe there’s a chance to organize a civilian evacuation.

Rhode considered trying to communicate with these embattled warriors, to ask where the nearest evacuation point for civilians might be.

But seeing the endless tide of Tyranids, the mere dozen or so Space Marines, and the few thousand Astra Militarum, Rhode doubted they could hold out much longer before being consumed by the swarm.

Besides, there didn’t seem to be any spacecraft nearby. Even if there were, would someone like him—a total nobody, not even a registered civilian—have any right to board?

Most importantly, Rhode didn’t speak High Gothic. He couldn’t understand a word these people were saying and could only judge from their power armor and the Tyranid horde that he was indeed in the Warhammer universe.

If he rushed over, the most likely outcome was being gunned down by these battle-crazed soldiers.

If only someone from the Salamanders Chapter, or a detachment thereof, was here, there might be some hope.

But the language barrier was crippling. Maybe English would work? At least he knew English.

Rhode sighed. As a transmigrator, shouldn’t I have some kind of golden finger, like in the stories?

A sweet, familiar voice rang out. Suddenly, a virtual screen materialized in front of Rhode.

That interface! That familiar top-up button! It all looked so familiar it made his skin crawl.

Wait, wasn’t this the garbage mobile game I downloaded last night out of boredom?

It was just another reskinned gacha game. The gameplay was simple—draw cards in the shop, challenge the arena, clear dungeons, compete in ranked matches, earn rewards, exchange for monsters, and train them.

All the monsters came from a legendary childhood series—Ultraman. But the game only had villain monsters and aliens—no Ultraman heroes, no protagonists at all. It was a game where you raised and trained villain monsters.

But last night, it was just a mobile game interface—why had it become a virtual screen since he transmigrated? And where was his phone? Did it become his golden finger in this new world?

Am I supposed to play a mobile game here, in the Warhammer universe?

Wait—maybe it’s not just about playing the game! Now that it’s a virtual screen, could the monsters actually be summoned for real?

If I can summon monsters from the Ultraman universe, Rhode thought, I could shout in the face of the Chaos Gods themselves, “I don’t eat beef!”

Yes, Warhammer is deadly, but the Ultraman universe is no slouch. In fact, it might be even more powerful.

The Ultramen cross multiverses, while Warhammer’s strongest are still stuck fighting over the Milky Way!

If this doesn’t work, then fine—let a boltgun end me quickly!

Rhode tapped on the virtual screen before him.

Just give me a monster—any monster—let me get through this crisis first!

Arena: unavailable. Dungeon mode: unavailable. Elite battles: unavailable. Ranked matches: unavailable. Story mode: unavailable.

Most of the icons were greyed out. Only three remained active.

One was for personal attributes—tapping it opened the inventory, allowing him to view his monsters and upgrade them.

The other two were the top-up button and the shop.

Top-up, of course, was for spending money—a staple of any mobile game.

After all, how can you become strong without spending money?

Damn it! I’ve transmigrated, and you still want me to spend money?

There’s not even a network here—how am I supposed to top up?

Forget it, I’ll deal with that later. If there’s a top-up option, then there must be something in this world to use as currency.

Meanwhile, the battle situation was deteriorating fast. Rhode knew he had to summon a monster, and quickly, or he’d be heading for reincarnation.

He pressed on. Just give me a monster—any monster—to get me through this!