As a Grey Knight In Naruto

Chapter 26 – The Emperor Protects

Darkness.

Not emptiness, but overwhelming presence, dense, crushing, ancient. Hajime floated, weightless and silent, yet aware. The pain of his self-surgery, the fiery surge of the gene-seed implant, gone. Replaced by this abyss.

Then, like lightning cleaving the void, a voice, silent and thunderous at once, split his mind.

Not words.

A presence.

The Emperor Protects.

The void fell away.

Suddenly, Hajime stood.

Not in his own body. This one was enormous. Encased in silver ceramite, every joint and muscle reinforced with adamantium. A halo of purity seals flapped in invisible winds across his armor, and in his hand was a massive Nemesis force sword, etched with runes that pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat.

He was not in control.

But he could see.

Feel.

Hear.

And think.

He was riding within a memory, no, a life, of a Grey Knight. A Justicar. The leader of a squad of five Astartes on a daemon-hunting mission.

They stood within a shattered cathedral on a world long lost to the Warp. Ruined stained glass, blackened pews, and desecrated altars lay in rubble around them. The very air shimmered with unreality. Screams echoed from walls that should not speak. Time curled on itself like a burning scroll.

But none of them flinched.

The Justicar, whose body Hajime now inhabited, spoke in a voice like thunder wrapped in ritual:

> "Steel yourselves, brothers. The beasts of the Immaterium gather."

The Grey Knights advanced in formation, perfectly synchronized. Hajime felt the weight of countless campaigns, of rituals and catechisms carved into muscle memory. As they moved deeper into the tainted ruins, daemons began to materialize, shrieking horrors of teeth, claws, and madness.

And they met them with silence and fire.

Hajime felt every clash of blade against flesh that should not exist. Every invocation, every precise psychic pulse used to sever daemonic links. He couldn't act, but he learned. Tactics. Discipline. The rhythm of battle against the impossible. How to see a warp-entity not just with the eyes, but with the soul.

Ten years passed in that single breath.

Endless war.

Each time the Justicar rested, Hajime saw into his thoughts, battle doctrine, combat patterns, even the liturgies muttered to steel his mind. He absorbed everything.

And then the cathedral faded.

Another world rose.

A cleaner one, lit with sterile white light, echoing with the hum of machines and quiet prayers.

Now, Hajime stood in the body of an Apothecary.

This man worked not on the battlefield, but in the sacred halls of gene-crafting. Clad in silver robes over his armor, he handled genetic material like a sculptor before divine clay. On a marble slab lay organs in development, pulsing, half-grown: the Secondary Heart, the Ossmodula, and the Biscopea.

Hajime felt the precision of the Apothecary's hands. Saw formulas and cellular schematics flickering across dataslates. Memories of centuries of trial, failure, and success poured into him. How the Secondary Heart merged with the circulatory system. How the Ossmodula reshaped bone structure by rewriting density signals at the molecular level. How the Biscopea rewired hormonal systems to generate enhanced muscle output.

He memorized it all.

He wanted more.

He yearned for more.

But the world blurred again

and reformed into a storm of psychic lightning.

Now he was a Librarian. A master psyker, even amongst the Grey Knights. armored in sanctified aegis-plate, standing at the eye of a Warp storm. Around him spiraled daemons, ghosts, and thoughts not his own.

But his mind, their mind, was a fortress.

Hajime felt the discipline required to wield psychic power without madness. He watched as the Librarian invoked defensive wards, cast searing bolts of mindfire, and silenced daemonic shrieks with nothing but the force of his will. Through this body, Hajime saw how the Warp could be tamed, not just resisted.

He tasted the shape of thought-magic. Learned the raw willpower needed to bend reality without breaking oneself. He could feel the techniques written in the psychic language of the Grey Knights: shield patterns, mental barriers, soul-wards, and strike disciplines.

But just as he began to fully grasp the layering of psionic constructs

The scene fractured again.

And reformed.

Now, everything was quieter.

Dustier.

He stood in a vaulted hangar deep beneath the moon of Titan. Here, Grey Knight Techmarines, few, elite, and secretive even among their brothers, oversaw the construction of the Order's sacred wargear.

He was one of them.

The body he rode moved among forges and servo-constructs, checking inscriptions, adjusting the internal data-spines of power armor, whispering machine-prayers in ancient tongues. Blueprints and cogitator readouts flashed in his mind, and thus into Hajime's. Every part of the armor had purpose. Every layer was sacred: the psychic dampening weave, the reinforced helm, the force-weapon interface built into the vambrace.

Hajime drank it all in.

It was overwhelming.

So much knowledge. So much truth.

And then

Something cracked.

He felt it.

His mind, his own, not the borrowed ones, trembled. A spike of pressure lanced through his skull like a nova. Not pain, not fear. Limit.

He was reaching it.

The memories still poured forth, more lives, more skills, more sacred secrets. But his body, his soul, his still-mortal shell...

Could not hold it.

A warning flared across the soulscape.

Instinctual.

Protective.

The gene-seed reacted.

In the heart of his consciousness, a sphere of silver light erupted, like a psychic seal detonating. Glyphs spun wildly, chains of will slamming into place.

The memories were sealed.

Not erased.

Just locked away.

The warp faded.

The forges dimmed.

The Librarian's final thought, Remember, boy. Knowledge is power, but untempered knowledge is madness, echoed into silence.

And Hajime fell.

---

He lay on the wooden floor of his clinic chamber, the scent of blood and sweat heavy in the air. The candle he'd lit before had burned out long ago, the room illuminated only by faint moonlight through the slats.

His chest rose and fell slowly, the scar of the incision still fresh but closed.

The empty gene-seed containe* sat beside him, glowing faintly for a moment… then going still.

And Hajime stirred.

Eyes fluttered.

Breath returned.

But he did not wake fully.

Not yet.

He remained caught in a fog between memory and self, his mind still echoing with voices not his own.

But one thing had changed.

He was no longer just Hajime.

Not just a soul from another world.

He had seen daemons.

Held divine steel.

Crafted what no man in this world could.

And though the knowledge was sealed for now…

It waited.

Like the Emperor's wrath.

Like the storm beneath the stars.

---

End of Chapter 26 – Chapter 26 – The Emperor Protects