Disclaimer: I am an unpaid amateur. This is a Fanfiction. I do not own Youjo Senki or Warhammer 40,000. It is a text written for my pleasure and to please the readers.

Author's Note: I was amazed to discover that no one had thought of writing a crossover between Youjo Senki: Saga of Tanya the Evil and Warhammer 40,000 these two universes seem to have so much in common. So I decided to fix this oversight (poor little Tanya). English is not my native language and I'm not some Warhammer 40K lore fanatic. I can make mistakes, and I accept gratefully any polite correction.

Chapter One:

Death and Rebirth

On that day in February 2013, Tokyo was in the middle of winter. The cold wind blew between the huge glass towers that formed the center of one of the largest megacities on the planet.

The workday ended for millions of office workers. Leaving the skyscrapers, they spread out in the streets, mingling with the population of all ages that circulated along the avenues and crossed at the zebra crossings.

While some employees had their own cars, most used public transportation. At the edge of the platform, in front of all the other metro users, was a hard-eyed Japanese man, partly hidden by metal-framed glasses. Wearing a dark jacket and a fine striped tie, he read the book he was holding with one hand turning the pages with his thumb so as not to let go of the briefcase he was holding in the other.
The man- useless for you to learn his name- was a sort of legend in his profession. Famous or maybe more accurately says INfamous for his talent. When a subsidiary of the company where he worked was in trouble, he was sent to 'restructuring'. This innocuous term hid all the hardness of capitalism. A subsidiary costs too much? Fire!

And this man did so with an absolutely relentless hardness. Moreover, he always managed to preserve the company's reputation by ensuring that those he deemed unnecessary or redundant offered their resignation rather than firing them. How did he do it? By terrifying them! The man used his imposing presence and words of contempt, breaking the will of the one he received in his office, humiliating and overwhelming him until the employee signed his resignation. Of course, there were sometimes some unpleasant scenes. Thus, an employee had dragged himself on his knees in front of the businessman with a dark jacket, begging to keep his job.

A twisted smile appeared on the man's face with a striped tie. Thinking back on his day, he had every reason to be satisfied with himself: "I am a regular person but I work rationally yet also utilitarian. But I work as required of me. Certainly, I'm warped. I'm not a genius, and I have many defaults. But they are rules in this world, and I play safe guided by the rules. It's always better than being like the goods for nothing on the bad side of the rules."

He felt no pity for the people he had forced to resign, just contempt and a sense of superiority. The man in a businessman suit had a very clear vision of things, as long as he respected the rules of the game, whatever he did, he was right.

"I'm on my track for the post of department manager."

Yes, the road to success was clearly open to him. Live was a fairly smooth ride for this man.

But he had forgotten one thing... the path he had traced had been paved by the lives of the people he had crushed and humiliated. And that day, without his awareness before that moment, he had gone too far. Whatever the external reasons, one of the people he had pushed to resign had lost everything at the same time as his job. Desperate people committed desperate acts.

The jobless employee who had dragged himself to his knees in front of the man in a dark businessman suit followed him on the subway. Seeing an opportunity to take revenge, he did not hesitate for a moment. With both hands, he pushed the man onto the track, just as the metro train was coming.

Suspended in the air, the businessman could not move. As if invisible threads tied him up in this position. But it was not only him who was thus immobilized. He saw the man who had pushed him, with both hands still outstretched, and the other users, a woman with her baby, a schoolgirl in a sailor uniform, ordinary salarymen, an old woman. They were all frozen.

The time had stopped.

Recognizing the employee who had knelt down to beg the person who had pushed him onto the track, he felt like shaking his head. This irrational act irritated him. Even as he was about to die, he felt no remorse, just thought about his death rationally, and was annoyed.

But a voice suddenly resounded:

"The humans lately have no judgment of right and wrong."

The businessman looked around without seeing his interlocutor:

"Excuse me but who are you?"

"I'm the Creator."

The announcement was met with the greatest skepticism by the man. He wondered if he was dreaming or if he had suddenly gone mad. But he never once asked himself if the other was telling the truth. The Creator? The thought was absurd. He left religion to the fools and the weak that needed reassurance. Immediately, he nicknamed this suspicious 'Creator' with a name that seemed more suitable to him: 'Being X'.

But the voice was heard again, seeming to respond to the thoughts of the businessman:

"In a way you're right, you've spent your life dreaming and being crazy. It is now that death is upon you that - for the first time - you awaken."

The eyes of the businessman drifted out of surprise as he thought: "He can read my mind?"

The invisible being who had stopped time to be able to speak to the man about to die confirmed it:

"You got it."

"This surprises me, the Devil actually exists."

"Just what are you talking about." responded the 'Creator'.

If he had not been immobilized in his fall, as frozen like an insect caught in amber, the businessman would have had his usual twisted smile:

"I don't believe in a 'Creator'. If - hypothetically- a Good God and All-Father existed, I do not believe that he would let all the tragedies that we see in the newspapers occur. This absurd and illogical world can only be the work of an evil entity. Either barbarian gods who believe only in violence or gods who love the absurdity of a world plunged into chaos, or even a monotheist God, the God of the Crusaders and the Inquisitors only worshipped by bigots craving for the blood of the so-called 'heretics' and 'unbelievers'. These are the only realistic assumptions to justify the existence of a god in a world like ours."

The invisible 'God' with whom he talked seemed to take a moment to reflect then:

"I see... Reasons without piety are well known to you. I ought to correct such sinfulness."

Hum? Uh? What? This situation getting sour...

"You think of me as a false god adored by fanatics and murderous zealots. You think of me as a god of barbaric uncivilized fool whisking only for a bloodbath. You think of me as a god of Chaos who wrapped the science. I will reincarnate you in a world where you can correct your misconception of me and awaken to piety."

The businessman's heart was suddenly filled with fear, realizing that his unambiguous criticism of this false god whom he had nicknamed 'Being X' had perhaps gone a little too far:

"Isn't this conclusion a little too premature? Let us calm down. Isn't your job supposed to be guiding the souls of the dead with generous will..."

But he could not finish his plea, just as he had never listened to the pleas of all whose lives he had ruined. Being X interrupted him:

"It's way too late to flatter me! I'm going to send you to a world at war. A world so horrible, that all the drama you accused me of instigating will seem to you like crossing a field of flowers on a beautiful spring morning. You will reincarnate like a little girl. But rest assured, you who believe only in science, you will have me as an ally. Only your faith in me can protect you. Only my miracles will keep you alive. For now, if you die, it will be the end for you, no other reincarnation. You receive this new chance from the goodness of my heart because your soul was promised to dissolution in nothingness, Unbeliever. But I would not be so generous to you twice!"

Armageddon...
The original name of the planet had long since been forgotten.
In a distant time, Armageddon had been a green planet with vast blue seas, mountains, and forests that fed a varied fauna, an idyllic planet that had the misfortune to attract the ships of colonization coming from Terra.

And men had ravaged this resource-rich world. It had probably taken them several millennia but... the result was horrible.

Seen from orbit, Armageddon now looked like a big green ball, the greenish atmosphere was poisoned by factories discharges. The oceans were nothing more than a huge dustbin, the continents were reduced to deserts of ashes.

Yet the hemisphere plunged into the night showed the bright spider webs of an immense urban network. Cities rose up everywhere, connected to each other by circulation tubes and huge bundles of cables.

These huge urban arcologies were named hive cities. Seen from afar, these cities looked like a forest of high Gothic cathedrals spires. But as we got closer, we understood that this first impression was false. The highest spires measured thousands of meters high, surpassing the highest mountains, ridiculing the highest contemporary skyscrapers. The cities, which looked rather small from afar, were in fact as large as many of the megacities of the early 20th century on Earth... simply their height was greater than their surface area on the ground.

Regula Prima...

It was a hive city.

Not the highest, not the most populous nor the most famous, only one nearly anonymous hive city among the 32,380 hive cities cataloged by the Administratum of the Imperium of Man.

The city resembled the city of Babel as Brughel had painted it, a ziggurat going above the level of the clouds, ascending to storming heaven. This incredible Babel tower symbol of human arrogance had about thirty levels. Each level was a gathering of skyscrapers similar to gothic spires. Real stone lace, the titanic buildings were carved with ergots, the windows looked like rosettes or stained glass.

Everywhere, sculptures: skulls; hooded angels with haloed heads and hands crossed on the pommel of a sword; double-headed eagles.

But the medieval aspect of the city could not make us forget that it was also a high-tech/ steampunk environment. The different floors from which the skyscrapers/cathedral spires emerged were not homogeneous surfaces. They were piles of machinery leaving no empty space. Rusty metal beams crossed over dark abysses, chimneys emerged to spit out noxious fumes. Here and there, we could see Tesla towers exchanging powerful electric arcs. Everywhere were turning gears in an incessant mechanical noise. Even in this industrial environment, the skull motif was ubiquitous, often mixed with the cogs or as part of it. The smallest flat surface bore the motif of the double-headed eagle which the passage of time and the pervasive pollution had shattered.

Between the skyscrapers were flying vehicles by the thousands, by the tens of thousands, traveling most often from one tower to another, they formed real rivers that crossed and intersected in mid-air. Other vehicles threw themselves into the flood of vast rivers that ran in all directions to join other hive cities.

On the higher floors, they were huge spaceships, similar to flying cathedrals, floating between the spires. These cargo ships, passenger ships, and warships came from all over the Segmentum Solar and sometimes beyond.

They linked Armageddon to the rest of the Imperium of Man.

Basically, a hive city was divided into three vertically separated parts.

At the top, we can see the districts where the richest people lived, the noble houses, the richest merchants. Living far above the clouds, they enjoyed sunlight, and the recycling plants provided them with clean air.

Below that came the middle districts. The purified air from the higher levels was still reaching these levels, so there was no need to wear a gas mask. However, people lived their entire lives without seeing the sun. This is where most of the population of a hive city lived. People were working in factories, getting married, making children who, one day, replace them in factories, a lifetime of making weapons... because Armageddon was a world whose entire economy was focused on weapons' plants.
Down below, there were only the gangs and their ceaseless wars. If the life of the middle levels was miserable, it was nevertheless a life. Below, with no clean air, no clean water, the hive city was only a huge trap of abandoned levels, a maze of ruined factories where strange vegetation and mutant predators proliferated. A jungle of rusty metal where only the strongest survived, constantly fighting for scarce resources, ready to kill, ready to ally, ready to betray. Only one law: the most brutal and uninhibited Darwinism.

Regula Prima, Middle-Level Seven, sublevel 7-345...

In a canyon between two concrete walls decorated with skulls and statues of angels dressed in a monk's robe stood endless rows of habs (slang: habitations for middle-class citizens). They were simple bars of housing units built without the slightest aesthetic concern. The grey concrete was only adorned with the Imperial Aquila and holy quotations in High Gothic:

"Melius est pro imperator mori quam pro te ipso vivere"

Or

"Vita doloris redimit animam tuam"

And this well described the life of the inhabitants of these middle districts: a life of self-denial to serve the God-Emperor by working in the factories to earn just enough to pay the rent of a family hab and the disgusting nutritious jelly that constituted the two daily meals. Then, dying exhausted by years of efforts and the toxic smoke of the factories, before ending like all the rest of the waste, separated into basic elements that would be reused in the industry.

This was a hopeless slave's life with the only help of religion, the official Imperial Cult of course... Or much more secretly, some underground blasphemous Chaos sect hunted by inquisitors, which also was the only source of freedom for the middle-class citizen jailed in the colorless daily life of a hive city.

Of course, one could also join a gang or the Imperial Guard (not that there is a very big difference between one and the other, at least on Armageddon).

Maryam Degurechaff was the wife of a Guard. Unable to feed his wife and just-born daughter, he joined the Steel Legion, the Imperial Guard Regiment of Armageddon.

Except that the planet had been ravaged for sixty years by a WAAAG! led by Warlord Gahzghkull Mag Uruk Thraka. Despite the presence of the Battle Sisters, the Adeptus Mechanicus, and six chapters of the Adeptus Astartes, millions of Guards were thrown into bloody battles every day, and every day thousands died.

Things had gotten worse after the fall of Cadia and the Cicatrix Maledictum. A way had opened for Chaos, and the repugnant hordes of Khorne and Slaanesh had spread over Armageddon.

The End of Time seemed to have arrived.

And for Maryam Degurechaff the end of the world had definitively arrived.

Alone, if we forgot the baby she was hugging, the young woman with a tired face walked crying, dazed and as if broken. She only carried a bag with a few clothes and personal items. Her empty gaze ran through the streets filled with workers heading for their factories.

Ulfric was dead.

Ulfric, her husband, was 'gloriously' dead for the God-Emperor. And at this moment, Maryam had lost everything. Without her husband's pay, she had been thrown out of her hab. She was no longer part of the 'middle class' of Regula Prima. She had to leave this level for the poorest levels... or her survival was far from assured.

Like a ghost, Maryam headed for the imperial church of the sub-level. Kissing her daughter one last time, she placed her on a long table where already a dozen other abandoned and crying children were present.

"Farewell little Tanya, may the Immortal God-Emperor have you in his holy guard".

Without paying attention to the pout of disgust that had just appeared on the little baby's face, Maryam abandoned her child and began to run, wiping her tears with one hand.

Tanya Degurechaff did not cry.

Many babies who were thus entrusted to the 'good care' of the monks cried or - for the older ones- complained. But Tanya was no ordinary child. Despite her appearance as a three-month-old baby, a sharp, thoughtful mind could be seen in her eyes:

"Damn you Being X!"

Years passed by...

Life in the orphanage was painful for young Tanya. First, it was obviously a religious institution. In the Imperium of Man, there were only religious institutions since the emperor was also the god of humans. The first activity at sunrise was Mass. And it was only after Mass that the orphans received the first meal of the day consisting of nutritious jelly, which was the only food available at this level. Then they started classes. The Imperium believed in education... no, correction... by education, we generally mean learning writing or mathematics or even learning proper uses (good education). Here I want to talk about the 'formatting of young minds' activity which consists of daily brainwashing. The instruction itself consisted of the official history (panegyric to the glory of the Emperor) to the official language of the Imperium of Man (the Low Gothic) and the bases of the calculation, just enough knowledge to be useful... not enough to be dangerous.

Because of course, despite the young age of the orphans, the educators sought to eradicate any sign of heresy. At the smallest sign of deviance, the 'good monks' tried to correct the pupil... by corporal punishment, of course.

The afternoon was devoted to workshop work, the children were responsible for assembling laserguns for the Imperial Guardsmen, because, of course, there was no law against child labor in the Imperium of Man. The orphans had not been spared hunger and a slow death out of goodness. Simply, they could still be useful. The children had to deserve the right to be fed, housed, and clothed. And of course, the 'good monks' rewarded the orphans according to their efforts. The world of Warhammer 40,000 knew no mercy even for children. For as it was taught at Mass: "There was no innocence only degrees of guilt".

But Tanya Degurechaff had never been caught at fault once.

She learned faster than any other orphan and spouted the praises at the God-Emperor with the conviction it needed. She worked better and faster than other children and thus received more food because Tanya had kept the mental maturity of her previous life. The salaryman that she had been having succeeded in securing an easy existence by scrupulously following the rules of capitalist society. Logical rules... those of the Warhammer 40,000 universe did not make any sense. Tanya felt nothing but contempt for the devout fanaticism and the collection of nonsense contained in the sermon of the priests... yes, a man become a god and clothed in golden armor loved and protected humanity... very credible! Especially for someone who lived in a hive city and where the 'love' of the 'god' manifested itself in a life of misery and suffering never rewarded. And billions, hundreds of billions of people across the galaxy believed in this nonsense. Idiots! Finally, this was nothing new, the fools and the weak formed the essence of humanity and the leaders of the Imperium of Man knew how to cleverly use myths and legends to guarantee the conformism of humans and to ensure their perfect obedience.

But, of course, Tanya kept her opinion to herself, too wise to do or say anything heretical. She also made sure to prove to be more talented than other children of her age in mathematics, writing, and history... but without doing too much either. The long glosses at the Mass about 'forbidden knowledge' had made it clear to Tanya that knowledge was suspect in the Imperium of Man.

When Tanya reached the age of 7, a 'Black Ship' of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica arrived at Regula Prima. As was his mission sanctioned by the Inquisition, the Psykers the ship was transporting went in search of latent psionics.

The goal was twofold. First, eradicate the witches, these individuals have received powerful psionics powers by making pacts with the Daemons. Then find latent Psykers whose gifts could be used by the Space Marines or the Imperial Navy.

Surrounded by a section of the Adeptas Sororitas, a sanctioned Psyker arrived at sub-level 7-345 a few days later.

He had sensed a powerful psionic imprint that inevitably led him to the orphanage. Evidently, the director received him immediately, bowing almost to the ground. And when the Psyker asked him to review the children of the orphanage it was organized at the moment, all activated being suspended to please this representative of the Inquisition.

The children marched one after the other and the Psyker, an old bald man whose back of the skull was replaced by pipes and cybernetic implants, stared at the orphans who followed one another.
It was soon Tanya's turn to pass before him.

Tanya watched the Battle Sisters in heavy armor, the chainsaw sword, the bolter, or the flamer on the side. They were beautiful, but not the kind of beauty that made a man want to come closer... rather run away. Fanaticism shone in their eyes, and some had scars testifying to the battles they had fought. No sane individual would allow himself to chase around with these warriors maiden forged in the flames of a thousand battles.

The Psyker had watched the children for a few seconds and then chased them away with a sign from the hand, without a word.

But when Tanya arrived, the Psyker face took on a concentrated expression then perplexed... before he sucked a gulch of air and opened wide eyes...

Sister Jehanna, the Battle Sister leading the group turned to the Psyker:

"Is that her?"

Still unable to speak, he nodded.

Sister Jehanna took a critical look at Tanya. She was only a little girl with a rickety body, half-dead of hunger, wearing a blue and worn-out dress that showed skeletal arms and legs. The blond hair was badly styled with a stupid rebellious lock. Her face was thin, and the eyes seemed immense but hard, and without weakness. Jehanna turned to the Psyker:

"What is her rank?"

The old man hesitated:

"I don't know, her presence is very powerful but there is a veil on her mind, I can probe her... I only perceive her superficial thoughts. Even if untrained, she is already able to protect her thoughts."

The Battle Sister was thriving. She worked for years with the Adeptus Astra Telepathica. And during the multiple missions conducted to eradicate witches and search for latent psionics, Sister Jehanna understood one thing well: a powerful Psyker was much more a curse than a blessing. The mighty Psykers were true beacons that drew the attention of the Dark Gods of Chaos, guiding them to the worlds of men. The Gods of the Ruin also sent visions to the most powerful Psykers to pervert them.

Even an undistorted Psyker was a great danger if he didn't control his gifts. The archive of the Adeptas Sororitas told terrible stories... cities and even entire planets razed to the ground because only one Psyker had lost control of his gifts. She understood that the Inquisition had placed the neutralization of the Psykers very high on the agenda... which often meant their death.

Sister Jehanna looked at the little girl, her hand was placed on the handle of her chainsaw sword.
Was she supposed to kill the girl?

She had the authority to make that decision and no one would question her. Killing that little girl and—
The Battle Sister hesitated and turned again to the Psycker:

"Are you sure she's naturally talented?"

In other words, Jehanna had just asked if Tanya had not received her gifts in return for a pact with the gods of Chaos, i.e. if the little girl was a witch. The old Psyker nodded:

"Yes, I don't feel any chaotic interference."

"And what is her rank?"

The Battle Sister had already asked the question once and the fact that she had asked it again indicated that she would not agree to remain unanswered. The old man concentrated with all his strength...
He shook his head after a few seconds:

"She blocks me and without training, it's purely instinctive so... she's at least as strong as me."

The eyes of Jehanna widened in shock for a brief moment while the other members of the escort exchanged surprised looks:

"Beta rank?"

The old man smiled with embarrassment. After all, he had trained for his whole life to reach the beta rank, and the untrained natural power of the girl equaled his own:

"At the very least."

A Psyker of alpha rank perhaps even alpha plus! It was said that a Psyker of this rank could destroy a titan with a single thought! (1)

The fingers of the Battle Sister tightened on the handle of her chainsaw sword. It would be more prudent to kill her right away. But... again, she hesitated and closed her eyes reciting a prayer before reading the report on this Tanya Degurechaff... good pupil, pious, the only negative comments concerned her behavior with the other orphans. She did not play with them and isolated herself. The report described her as calm and ended by insisting again on her faith a characteristic that endlessly pleased the head priest of the orphanage.

Tanya Degurechaff was particularly uncomfortable.

She didn't really understand what was going on. For starters, what was a Psyker?

But one thing was certain. These women in armor and this cybernetized old man belonged to an organization working under the Inquisition. Her second life could end within five seconds if they so choose.
Tanya used her only weapon. She looked as innocent as possible. She even smiled at the woman who led the group.

The face of the Sister of Battle showed something parented to pain then she sighed before turning to the Psyker:

"We're taking him to Terra. The Adeptus Astra Telepathica and the Inquisition would decide what to do with her."

Putting all the weight of the decision on her hierarchy was a way of deciding. Sister Jehanna was now calmer. After all, it was certainly the right thing to do. Admittedly a Psyker of beta rank - or higher- was of the first-class threat, but the little one was pious and calm, instinctively able to protect her thoughts. She could not have been corrupted.

Of course, that Tanya Deruchaff had not yet been corrupted meant nothing. This little girl was a huge danger for herself, the others, and the Imperium of Man as a whole.

But Tanya could also be an opportunity. Luckily, she was still very young and her mind could be rebuilt to shelter the emperor's will... which would make her a very powerful weapon against the enemies of humanity.

The place was a simple metal cube with a rudimentary bed and in place for... natural needs, nothing else. The walls were bare except the omnipresent Imperial Aquila next to the number 96, that of the cell because it was indeed a prison cell. A bluish force field (2) closed the cell on the side of the corridor. Twice a day, a panel opened to deliver the usual nutritious jelly. The only distraction was the patrols of two heavily armed Battle Sisters passing through the corridor checking the cells one by one.
Despite everything, Tanya was happy with the change of situation.

Sister Jehanna had explained to the reincarnated salaryman what a Psyker was. And Tanya was very interested. Because for her it was a fabulous opportunity, if she played this card correctly, she could get access to the highest functions. Tanya had already left Armageddon and the ship was sailing towards Terra, the capital of the Imperium. There her case would be judged by the highest authorities of the Adeptus Astra telepathica and... the Inquisition.

And that idea was also terrifying.

Tanya knelt on the floor and began to pray... not that she believed in all this nonsense, but she was certain that hidden cameras and microphones were following her slightest move, recording everything. If she were to be judged by the Inquisition, her best hope of survival was to pass for the perfect imperial citizen... that is, a devout idiot. She began singing hymns in High Gothic:

"Si pereo in tenebris, deduc me.

Si Potestates Ruin ruent mihi, tuere me.

Domine Deus Imperator."

And as the Black Ship continued to move through the Warp toward Terra, Tanya thought she was facing a test that determined her future. Either she could convince the Inquisition that she was not a threat, or she would die quickly.

If she survived a bright future opened up to her because, of course, a gifted Psyker had to be one of the greatest assets of the Imperium of man, right?

Except that in this distant and dark future, there was only one truth:

WAR

Thus began the Saga of Tanya the Devil of Armageddon.

(1) It's an exaggeration of imperial propaganda, very hostile to the Psykers.

(2) It's Gellar field, primarily used to protect ships traveling through the Warp. The force field also blocks psychic powers. The Gellar field protects the Black Ship hand from Tanya Psykers powers but it's also for the protection of Tanya. During Warp travels, Psyker non-protected by Gellar field can be influenced by entities residing in the immaterium, like the Chaos deities, with disastrous effects for the Psykers' sanity.

Author's note: I think the story is quite clear, but I will clarify some concepts developed in this first chapter. This is not a second incarnation. Tanya has never been to Germania. Those who want to compare the discussion between the Salaryman and Being X in the official anime/ manga and in this Fanfic will discover that the future Tanya used different arguments to deny the existence of God... As a result, Tanya ended up in a different universe. It is the point of divergence between the official Saga of Tanya the Devil and this Fanfic. Yes, she's called Tanya Degurechaff in this Fanfic like in the canon. Why? Because it would no longer be a crossover with Saga of Tanya the Devil if I changed her name, genre, and appearance. If you have any questions or comments, please do not hesitate to let me know. I will answer your questions as much as possible. Thanks for reading my story.