"That's wonderful," Roy said, pleasantly surprised. "With your help, our chances of victory have increased."
From near-zero to… slightly above zero.
"But couldn't everyone just get along instead?" Doraemon asked, puzzled. "Maybe you could've been friends from the start."
Roy fell silent.
Of course. The robot came from the lost age of Dark Technology. It didn't understand what faith or the Emperor meant in this era.
Its eyes held a clarity and innocence alien to this entire world.
"That's impossible," Roy said firmly. "Xenos can never coexist with humans. And besides…"
He lowered his head. His mind wandered to the prophecy circulating in the cult—the prophecy of the God-Emperor's army descending soon.
If their faith had been a lie all along… then what exactly was coming?
Just imagining it gave him chills.
"Don't be like that. Maybe coexistence is possible," Doraemon said, pulling out a gadget. "This is the Future Scope! With it, you can see what happens in the future based on different choices. For example, if you tried to befriend those creatures…"
He peeked through the scope, twisting the dial to scan timelines.
He saw a future where, using Momotaro Dumplings, those twisted xenos became fast friends with the locals… only for a plague to erupt soon after. In despair, people stormed the upper hive. Filthy green creatures and towering warriors in patchy armor joined the fight…
Wait—what the heck was going on?
"No no no, that has to be wrong!"
Doraemon quickly readjusted the scope. Another future unfolded. This time, the poisoners were caught early. The Four-Armed God-Emperor's cult and their angels blended into the locals. The faithful worked tirelessly, even doing overtime. Many boarded ships to spread the faith… wait, they had space travel?
Doraemon had thought this world was backward!
He continued observing—just as things seemed to improve, the angels and their followers suddenly rioted. Then, massive monsters blotted out the sky.
What now?! The previous future didn't have those!
Doraemon panicked. He checked timeline after timeline. In every case, as long as the angels remained on the planet, monstrous horrors eventually arrived—devouring the world.
Even if those were defeated, new threats emerged: green, red, blue, purple monstrosities. Screaming orks. Blue-skinned humanoids. Metallic skeletons rising from underground. Lanky, sharp-eared figures.
And if the war dragged on for decades, even more massive armies and elite warriors in unfamiliar armor joined the battle.
"Ugh… I don't fully get the connection, but if it risks hurting innocent people, I can't just sit by," Doraemon muttered. "I really hate fighting, though. Wouldn't it be nice if everyone just got along?"
"Peace is only a fleeting illusion under the Emperor's light. In this dark universe, only war and suffering endure," Roy said. "We need weapons, Doraemon. Please."
"Alright, alright—you've left me no choice." Doraemon sighed and rummaged through his pouch.
"Here—Air Cannon for compressed air attacks, Power Bazooka strong enough to blow up tanks, Hot Line Gun that can melt buildings, Power Gloves that auto-strike enemies, Electric Sword for auto-combat, and of course, the Pebble Hat for stealth."
He stacked all the gadgets—bought on discount—on the table and began explaining each one.
He didn't want to fight. But this was a special case.
The last time he'd brought out truly destructive weapons… was probably during the Robot Army's invasion of Earth.
Wait—maybe also when he pulled out the Earth Destroying Bomb after seeing a mouse.
Just thinking of mice made him shudder. If there was one good thing about this world, it was that he hadn't seen a single rat—no matter how filthy things got.
Roy, meanwhile, was stunned.
He'd only asked on a whim. He didn't expect Doraemon to actually have such powerful weapons.
No doubt about it—these were relics from the age of Dark Technology!
"In that case," Roy slammed the table, "let's go straight to the Patriarch. We'll purify that foul xenos once and for all!"
The plan to gradually awaken others and remove loyalist cells had only been a safety measure. With these weapons, they could strike directly.
No…
Roy reminded himself. That was no angel.
Whatever it was—fallen source or fellow victim—once fallen, an angel is no longer an angel.
"Okay." Doraemon nodded, handing over the Future Scope. After eliminating the most dangerous options, they donned their Pebble Hats and advanced toward the corridor leading to the Patriarch and the angels lurking in the shadows.
Meanwhile, the Genestealer Cult had plunged into chaotic civil war. The gates to the middle hive had been sealed. The lower hivers realized they'd been abandoned—likely left to die of plague.
Food would only last a month. Medicine was gone. Driven by despair, the people—urged on by agitators—tried to storm the gates.
But the cult stood in their way, defending their faith at all costs—while the nobles above remained oblivious.
Taking advantage of the thinned defenses during this uprising, Roy and his group quietly approached the Patriarch's sanctum…
---
Author's Note: This planet is my own creation, located in the Ultima Segmentum. It includes Nurgle cultists and Genestealers brought in as model workers. If Doraemon hadn't shown up, the story would've ended with Tyranids getting attracted, the Imperium winning at great cost, and the Genestealers spreading further, planting the seeds for worse things.
And yes, Warhammer 40k does have rats.