Warhammer begins in 2026

Nostramo, an industrial city-state swallowed by eternal darkness.

Sunlight never breaks, and corrosive acid rain relentlessly pounds against the rusted metal buildings day and night. Multicolored neon lights cast a sickly glow in the damp mist. The layered city walls divide two worlds from top to bottom: the upper level is brightly lit, extravagantly decadent, where nobles and tycoons exploit the poor; the lower level is sludge-filled, rife with crime, where gangs and thugs roam freely. Evil takes root in every crack of the metal, and fear is the only rule of survival for the lower classes.

Conrad Coates dwells at the very top of the eternal night. He stands hunched over on the edge of the highest haunt, his face almost translucent with paleness, his dark eyes swirling with countless shattered visions of death—his innate gift, and the curse that haunts him throughout his life. He is the midnight ghost of Nostradamus, deterring criminals with his bloody hunts, yet he himself is trapped in the boundless darkness, unable to see the way forward.

Huang Feng's figure landed silently on the tower platform. The wind of the eternal night ruffled her clothes, dispersing the heavy stench of rust and blood in the air. She looked at Conrad, whose figure was thin and pale, and spoke calmly, "Want to take a walk together?"

Conrad slowly turned his head, his dark pupils reflecting Huang Feng's figure, and he responded in a low, hoarse voice, "Mm."

The two leaped from the hundred-meter-high spire, their toes lightly touching the damp metal pipes as they walked into the darkest alleyways of the lower city. Sewage flowed beneath their feet, and unburied corpses littered the alleyways. Starving and freezing children huddled against the walls, and the distant sounds of gunfire and screams from gangsters echoed. Conrad silently gazed at the despairing scene before him, an unyielding melancholy enveloping him.

Looking at the devastated lower-class neighborhood, Huang Feng softly uttered a sigh from the bottom of his heart: "The people at the bottom of this world know that doing this will lead to death, but how many of them don't know why?"

Conrad's body trembled slightly upon hearing this. He had hunted down countless criminals, using death to deter atrocities across the planet, yet evil had never been eradicated. People feared death, yet they did not understand right from wrong; they dared not do evil, but only feared the scythe of midnight, not turned their hearts towards the light. The order built on fear was crumbling, and he himself was becoming increasingly distorted in endless killing and premonition.

Huang Feng stopped and turned to look at him, his gaze calm yet carrying a power that pierced through the darkness: "Conrad, killing and fear can only bring temporary submission. Let people understand reason, distinguish right from wrong, know what is good and what is evil, understand the meaning of order, and find the path that is truly worthwhile—this is the path you should truly take."

"You can see death, and that is not a curse. It should be a yardstick, not a butcher's knife. What you need to do is not to intimidate the darkness with death, but to illuminate the darkness with order, so that everyone understands that evil deeds will have a price, and goodness will have its own way."

These words shattered Conrad's long-held principles of conduct. Thousands of death hallucinations surged wildly in his mind, and the long-suppressed pain, despair, and madness completely overwhelmed his reason. In his eyes, those who had never set foot in the abyss of eternal night had no right to judge his methods; only death could curb the endless growth of evil.

Conrad suddenly launched an attack, bending down to grab a thick, rusted metal pipe beside him. A chilling killing intent swept over his entire body as he pounced straight at Huang Feng.

The gap in strength was insurmountable. Huang Feng merely sidestepped the incoming iron pipe, deftly locked his arm with his hand, and tripped him lightly. Conrad lost his balance and fell heavily into a ditch filled with sewage by the roadside. The cold, rusty water instantly soaked through his entire body.

But he didn't back down at all. He immediately flipped over and pounced on him again. Huang Feng didn't want to kill him. Each time, he just used his skill to flip him to the ground, letting the cold acid rain soak his body again and again.

Once, ten times, dozens of times.

Conrad was covered in mud and rust, his arms were bruised and battered, his breathing was heavy and labored, but the stubbornness in his eyes had not diminished in the slightest. He fell down again and again, and struggled to get up again and again, fighting all night long. The city was shrouded in perpetual darkness, and acid rain continued to wash over their figures.

Huang Feng remained calm throughout, never attempting to inflict serious damage on Conrad. Instead, he repeatedly knocked Conrad to the ground when he insisted on attacking, quietly waiting for Conrad to calm down. As the long night passed and the neon lights gradually dimmed, a faint, rare ray of light finally pierced through the gaps in the high-rise buildings of the distant Nest City—Nostrama's once-in-a-millennium daylight quietly descended.

When the first ray of pale light fell on Conrad, he was completely exhausted. His knees slammed heavily into the puddle, and he had no strength left to get up. The endless assaults, falls, and struggles throughout the night had drained all his energy, and the stubborn anger in his heart had dissipated along with the long night. He hung his head, his shoulders trembling slightly, and finally gave up the attack completely.

Huang Feng walked slowly to him, looked down at the disheveled and exhausted young man, and spoke in a gentle tone without a trace of reproach: "Have you made enough of a scene? Now, can you calm down and listen to me?"

Conrad lay silently in the puddles, not responding, but no longer harboring the slightest thought of rising to fight. The night of struggle and the dim light of day had made him realize for the first time that violence and killing would never lead him out of this eternal night.

That night's encounter and guidance pierced through Conrad's gloomy life like a ray of light. From then on, Huang Feng stayed in Nostradamus, beginning a five-year period of teaching and companionship.

Over five years, the two traversed every level and every block of Nostramore. They walked through the muddy, sluice-filled alleys of the lower districts, distributing food to starving children and preaching order and right and wrong to the apathetic populace; they passed through the chaotic workshops and black markets of the middle districts, punishing foremen who exploited workers and gangs that smuggled contraband; finally, they stepped into the brightly lit, decadent upper districts, tearing away the glamorous masks of the nobles and tycoons—those high-ranking rulers were the root of all evil in Nostramore: they protected gangs, exploited laborers, trafficked people, and manufactured drugs, dragging the entire planet into hell while indulging in their own extravagance.

Huang Feng and Conrad showed no mercy to these evildoers who were rooted at the top of power and hollowed out the entire world.

The just punishment of death descends upon every sinful member of the upper class; corrupt officials, bloodthirsty tycoons, and wicked nobles are all spared. Their crimes are exposed, their wealth is distributed to the common people, and the corrupt system they built is utterly shattered. This time, death is no longer a senseless terror, but a clear punishment—everyone understands why they died and why they are being punished.

Five years have passed, and Nostradamo has quietly changed.

The eternal night continued, the acid rain persisted, but the streets of the lower districts were no longer littered with corpses; children had shelter, and workers received fair wages. The extravagance and decay of the upper districts were swept away, replaced by a gradually established order. People still revered the judge of midnight, but no longer felt only fear. They began to understand right and wrong, and began to believe in order. In the darkness of the planet, a faint but steadfast light finally shone through.

Conrad has changed too.

The obsession and madness in his eyes had faded considerably, and a newfound clarity had appeared on his pale face. He was no longer a lonely wanderer trapped in a curse; he had finally found his own path—to take death as a warning, to take order as his guiding light, and to protect the people of this planet, rather than merely being a shadow of slaughter.