Sweat dripped from my chin as my hands trembled. Once again, I questioned whether my decision was the right one as my small body struggled to catch its breath. 

"Come on, boy, I don't have all day," said the ruin of my existence, also known as my fencing instructor.

"Just give me a second." I lifted the training sword, as heavy as the real steel I hoped to wield one day.

My foot positioning had to be perfect, my breathing steady, or I'd end up on the cold courtyard floor once again.

The gray-bearded man with silver eyes and pale skin looked so out of place in this strange new world I found myself in.

"At least you recover quickly." He lunged at me, and only an instinctive sidestep prevented me from being struck.

"Rah!" I managed to launch a half-decent thrust, though I could almost feel my swordmaster's smirk as he deflected the blow, instantly shifting his blade towards me.

I dodged again, silently thanking whichever god had placed me in this harsh place. At least I'd been given some good genes in this small body.

Trying to parry was foolish against a man standing at 6'6" tall, especially with my small 4'3" frame. Speed was essential.

Divert the blow to the side, or sidestep it correctly, then counter.

Actions and reactions needed to be fast; yet perhaps my stance had a flaw.

"Too slow!" The man's kick sent me staggering backward. It was almost superhumanly fortunate I didn't break a rib, though I was undeniably tough.

"Blame the gravity on this godforsaken planet."

"Your footwork is wavering. In a fight, keeping your breath steady is everything. Overexert yourself, and you die," he lectured, unfazed as he deflected my attacks with humiliating ease.

*Cough*

"But I'm better than before, don't you think, Sir Mandrick?" I smiled despite my exhaustion, unable to suppress a bit of pride.

After all, it's not every day an eight-year-old can stand against a grown man for so long and remain standing.

"I don't even want to think about what children go through on planets like Fenris. At least I have some luck."

"Don't get so arrogant, young lord, or you'll lose your head for sure," Sir Mandrick replied, blocking yet another strike.

He sidestepped my faded blade and countered, striking my abdomen with the pommel.

"Damn! Could he at least go easy on me?"

I coughed, nearly feeling like I might lose my breakfast, as I collapsed to my knees, struggling to grip my sword desperately.

It was in vain; the cold edge of his blade touched my chin, forcing me to look up into his steely gaze and the serious eyes of a man who'd seen more battles than I had years to my name.

His gaze searched for any weakness as I gasped for air. I held his gaze firmly, refusing to show the slightest hint of vulnerability.

"Well, at least you learn fast. Go wash up—the master, Grandy, wants to see you immediately regarding your next duties. Meet me here again in exactly three hours." He left without another word, sheathing his practice sword.

My body began to ache as the adrenaline drained away, and I stood up, only to hear the sound of footsteps.

"So, I think we can say that's enough, don't you?" came the familiar voice of a woman, mature and carrying an undeniable aura of authority.

I gave my mother an innocent smile, as was proper for a child of my apparent age.

I turned to face her—a striking woman with dark skin, long platinum-blonde hair, dressed in a black Victorian-style gown with red accents, a slim waist, and full chest. Her face was adorned with impeccable makeup, her red eyes shimmering as she looked at me, her posture that of a noble lady of impeccable breeding, devoid of any imperfection or emotion.

"No, mother, one day I intend to become the best swordsman in this galaxy!" I said, as determined as a child could manage.

She nodded without further comment, giving a subtle signal for one of her servants to help me up. Only now did I feel the burning in my left leg, likely a minor injury from a wrong move or simply overexertion.

"Emperor take my soul; I should never have agreed to this," she muttered in High Gothic, for none but myself to understand or, at the very least, so that none of the nearby servants would think she was worried for her son.

The absurdity of noble rules on this world still escaped me. Showing love or compassion was something that marked people as less human, but what did "human" even mean when one lived off the backs of millions of slaves in the lower towers?

I sighed, realizing I needed to stop focusing on everything wrong with this cursed universe—for the sake of my mental sanity.

"Go to your room; you have half an hour to rest. Your lessons will start shortly. I expect nothing but the best from you. Remember, you belong to the noble house of Wimbledon, and we will tolerate no weakness." Her tone was commanding, and I had no reason, nor did I dare, to contradict her.

"Yes, ma'am," I responded firmly, nearly.

My mother nodded as we passed through the black corridors lined with golden murals and white statues. The Wimbledon fortress was grand, but compared to the hive city as a whole, it was just one of the enormous noble residences.

I could easily hear the hum of an anti-gravity engine as a servo-skull approached, its mechanical voice intoning:

[Lady Eleonora, Governor Valadares requests your presence.]

The woman paused for a second before nodding, unfazed by the skull with cybernetic implants floating nearby.

"I'll be there in two hours," was all she said, while I showed no reaction to the mention of my new "father" in this world.

She glanced at me for a moment before departing with her retinue, leaving only a small contingent of guards to escort me to my chambers. After all, I couldn't simply go wherever I wished.

I was the planetary governor's son—one of his five children, at least.

The guards in military-grade, anti-air style armor remained silent as they escorted me. I felt no urge to make conversation; I'd grown accustomed to this level of protection, even though I figured that if any of my elder siblings or rival families wished me dead, they would send elite assassins instead of common troops.

"How I miss the days when my only worries were work, eating, and training." The guards dispersed as I entered my luxurious quarters, much larger than the entire house I'd spent years building in my past life.

The servants, my mother's attendants whose names I didn't even know, bathed me, cleaned me, and dressed me before leaving the room. I could have insisted on bathing alone, but honestly, there were hard-to-reach places, and I enjoyed feeling completely clean.

Only the Emperor-God knew that the masses below wouldn't even dream of such luxury.

I lay on my bed, letting my sore muscles relax. The pain would soon fade; I was resilient enough to withstand something like this, maybe why my mother hadn't bothered checking on me—or maybe her mind was simply elsewhere.

"Whatever. For now, I'm just a child, useless to my parents, and I don't care about anything except one thing."

• System activated

• Name: William Wimbledon 

• Class: Noble

• Species: Human 

• Age: 8 (33)

• Gene: Psyker (Active)

**Abilities:**

- **Conceal:** Allows the user to hide their psychic abilities from non-Psykers. Higher levels increase concealment (Level: 6).

- **Meditate:** Allows the user to dispel mental destabilizers, calm the mind, and gather more energy (Level: 10).

- **Psychic Bolt:** Ability to create electricity generated by warp energy (Level: 1).

**Specialties:**

- **Adept Swordsman:** Knows how to use a sword and basic techniques, still learning.

- **Adept Politician:** Understands the nuances of the court and political intrigue.

- **Specialist Marksman:** Knows how to use and understand long-range weapons; can survive a shootout.

- **Administrator:** Knows how to plan and manage resources.

- **Specialist Fighter:** Skilled in hand-to-hand combat with a few good fighting techniques (his young body limits his level).

I looked at the system that had been with me since I woke up in this newborn body nearly ten years ago. At first, I was confused and disconnected from the world around me—after all, it's not every day you die and find yourself in a new body.

It took years to accept my death, as I was no protagonist, quickly adjusting to and embracing such insanity. With little else to focus on, I worked on keeping myself grounded while trying to avoid a mental breakdown. I gradually accepted that I'd been reborn, now as a noble—but not in any fantasy world.

"I wish it were that way." This was a world of high technology, but only for the nobility, to which I now belonged. And, to make things worse, this wasn't one of the easier universes to live in. I always felt an ominous tension that something terrible was coming.

That feeling was likely due to me being in the universe of a game I had just completed before dying and learning even more about its dystopian horrors.

I was in Warhammer 40k, on some backwater world almost on the far side of the