This is the bonus chapter for reaching 200 Powerstones.
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Planet Dal.
An entire city of futuristic villas glittered beneath the morning sun.
Every house looked exactly the same, with sleek silver-white walls and brilliant blue energy barriers enclosing each property. Miniature void shield generators stood on the rooftops, casting soft halos of reflected sunlight across the buildings.
This was the Garden of Dawn.
A residential community built exclusively for the players of Crimson Dawn.
And as everyone knew, if something came from the system store, quality was practically guaranteed.
Every villa was equipped with a complete ecological recycling system, an intelligent defense matrix, and spatial expansion technology so advanced that luxury home designers back on Earth would probably drop to their knees and beg for lessons.
From the outside, each property occupied barely two hundred square meters.
Inside, however, there were more than a thousand square meters of usable space.
And the best part?
The entire villa could be packed away, carried around, and deployed wherever its owner pleased.
Whether you wanted to settle down with your family, take a vacation, or head out for a little murder and arson, you could bring the comforts of home along for the ride.
At that moment, the front door of Villa A-779 swung open.
[Selling Flatbread Outside the Imperial Palace on Terra] stepped outside and took a deep breath of Planet Dal's fresh morning air.
Four years had hardly left a mark on his face.
If anything had changed, it was the look in his eyes.
There was a quiet sense of contentment there now.
A feeling of security he'd never experienced in the real world.
Man, has it really been four and a half years since we came back from Planet Laeran?
The thought made him smile.
Four and a half years ago, he'd been a single loser hanging around the Emperor's Children camp, bragging about all the busty married women he'd supposedly hooked up with and the rich ladies he'd managed to sweet-talk.
He'd told some pretty outrageous stories back then.
Hell, even he hadn't believed most of them.
Now, just as he was about to close the door behind him, hurried little footsteps sounded from inside.
Flatbread immediately turned around.
Two tiny figures were stumbling toward him through the entrance hall.
"Daddy!"
"Daddy, don't go!"
Their childish voices were full of such desperate affection that they could have melted the hardest heart.
A little girl, barely two or three years old, ran in front. Her short legs pumped furiously, and her golden hair shimmered in the morning light.
She wore a pink floral dress that Aria had sewn by hand. A cute, cartoon-style Crimson Dawn emblem was printed on the fabric, and the skirt fluttered around her chubby knees as she ran.
A younger boy followed close behind.
He was a little smaller and not quite as steady on his feet, but he was trying his hardest to catch up with his sister.
"Sunny! Charlie! Slow down!"
Flatbread crouched and spread his arms.
The two children crashed into his embrace, nearly knocking him backward.
Sunny tilted her head up.
Her big blue eyes were fixed earnestly on his face.
"Daddy! You have to come home for dinner tonight!"
"Mommy's making your favorite roast meat!"
Her voice was soft and sweet, but she sounded utterly determined.
Beside her, Charlie was still struggling to get his words out.
He looked up at his father and mumbled eagerly, "Daddy... dinner... dinner..."
Flatbread gazed at their innocent little faces.
At the complete trust and dependence shining in their eyes.
Something tightened in his throat.
Four and a half years ago, he'd been a single guy making up ridiculous stories to impress people in a video game.
Four and a half years later, he had a wife, children, and a family of his own.
A real home.
The kind of home he'd never believed he could have in reality.
He reached out and gently ruffled Sunny's golden hair before giving Charlie—his little Rocky—a playful pinch on his chubby cheek.
"Don't worry, Sunny."
His voice held an indescribable tenderness.
"Daddy promises he'll come home for dinner."
"And you two need to be good and listen to Mommy, okay?"
Both children nodded vigorously.
Sunny even held out her little finger, her expression suddenly very serious.
"Pinkie promise!"
Flatbread laughed.
He held out his own pinkie and hooked it around hers.
"Pinkie promise."
"And no breaking it for a hundred years."
Only then did the two little ones reluctantly let him go.
They stood in the doorway, watching him with wide, expectant eyes.
Flatbread rose to his feet.
His gaze passed over the children and settled on a slender figure standing deeper inside the entrance hall.
Aria Elnor.
She stood beside the staircase, holding their youngest child, Nora, who was just over a year old.
Aria wore a simple long dress, and her chestnut-brown hair fell loosely across her shoulders.
Her features were delicate and gentle, giving her a warm, graceful beauty.
It was the same face that had captivated him the moment he'd first seen her at the Crimson Hope City medical station.
Now, that beautiful face carried a soft smile.
Flatbread gazed at her for several seconds, his own smile deepening.
"Aria, take good care of them."
His voice was so gentle that nobody would have guessed he was a former Iron Hands Astartes tough enough to endure Fabius Bile's surgical experiments.
"Go on."
Aria smiled reassuringly.
"I've got everything handled here."
Flatbread looked at her.
At the woman who had chosen to build a family with him, bear his children, and grow old alongside him in this world.
He wanted to say something.
But his throat tightened, and the words wouldn't come.
In the end, he simply nodded.
Then he turned and strode toward the road.
Behind him, Sunny called out again.
"Daddy! Remember to come home for dinner!"
Flatbread didn't turn around.
He simply raised a hand and waved over his shoulder.
--
Parked beside the road was a silver-gray Chimera armored transport.
Its metal hull gleamed in the morning sunlight, and the Crimson Dawn emblem was clearly visible on its side.
A rising sun breaking over the horizon, surrounded by wheat stalks, gears, and stars.
Flatbread opened the passenger door and climbed inside.
The person in the driver's seat was already staring at him.
[Selling Cola Outside the Imperial Palace on Terra] wore a standard suit of Iron Hands power armor.
His helmet rested beside him, revealing a face practically overflowing with envy.
"Bro..."
Cola's voice sounded so sour that he might as well have been drinking vinegar.
"Remember when you used to brag about all those busty married women, your Porsche 911, and rich ladies falling head over heels for you?"
"I always figured you were full of shit."
"But now..."
He stared at Flatbread's face.
The face of a man who had clearly won at life.
Then he glanced back toward the villa.
Two little children were still standing outside, watching their father leave.
A beautiful woman stood in the doorway behind them.
Cola looked back at Flatbread.
"Dude, you're actually living the fucking dream!"
"I'M SO JEALOUS!"
Flatbread leaned comfortably against his seat and smiled at the younger man's expression.
It was the calm smile of someone who had finally figured out what mattered in life.
"You're still young, kid."
"You don't understand how important it is to find a good woman."
He paused, his expression turning thoughtful.
"Seriously, where are you supposed to find women who are both gorgeous and genuinely kind back in the real world?"
"Good luck. They've all been snapped up already."
"Just look at the rest of our little snack-vendor crew from outside the Imperial Palace."
"The guys selling savory crepes, ramen, fried dough sticks, stir-fried noodles..."
"Every single one of them met the right girl and immediately gave up his Astartes body."
"Think about that. They spent millions of Imperial Coins on enhancements, then threw it all away to reconstruct themselves as ordinary humans."
"And now?"
"They've got wives, kids, and a warm home to return to every night."
"They're living better than anyone."
Flatbread leaned back and let out a contented sigh.
"What's the point of life, anyway?"
"Isn't it about finding someone who cares whether you're warm or cold? Someone who'll be there when you come home?"
"Sure, fighting feels amazing."
"But finding your own happiness? That's what really matters."
"And now, out of our whole Crimson Dawn snack-vendor crew, you're the only single guy left."
Cola fell silent.
He remembered how things had been four years earlier.
Back then, the entire group had been a bunch of heavily armored Astartes badasses.
They'd charged across battlefields with bolters blazing and chainswords screaming.
Four years later, every one of them had chosen avatar reconstruction.
They'd abandoned their transhuman bodies and returned to ordinary human lives.
Warriors who had once lived for battle and glory had become husbands and fathers.
And the price?
Millions of Imperial Coins' worth of enhancements, gone.
But whenever Cola opened the group channel, those idiots were posting pictures of their children, their wives, and whatever they'd had for dinner.
They grinned like complete morons in every photo.
And somehow, they looked happier than anyone else.
Cola stared at the steering wheel for a moment.
"But I still can't give it up."
He sighed and looked down at his armored hands.
"The thunder of a bolter."
"The roar of a chainsword."
"The hum of power armor..."
"Those are the reasons I started playing this game."
"Fighting feels amazing."
"Cutting enemies down feels amazing."
"And overwhelming everything with ridiculous amounts of firepower feels even better."
--
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