Warhammer 40k : Space Marine Kayvaan

After the grueling morning exercises, breakfast was served—a bowl of thin gruel. The soldiers ate in silence, their spirits low. The five-minute time limit was barely enough to finish the meager portions, leaving most still hungry.

Once the breakfast was cleared, Kayvaan addressed the soldiers again, standing beside the now-familiar bell. His tone was lighter, almost casual. "Does anyone want to ring the bell today? Look at yourselves—tired, hungry, beaten. Being a soldier isn't for everyone. Ring the bell, and you can go home. Take a hot bath, have a proper meal, and sleep in a warm bed. No shame in admitting this life isn't for you. It's a choice—one any reasonable person would make."

The soldiers stood in tense silence. But then, one man stepped forward.

"Judd! What are you doing?" someone hissed.

"Judd, don't listen to him!" another shouted.

But Judd hesitated only briefly before reaching for the bell. He glanced back at Kayvaan, who offered a small, encouraging nod. "Go on, Judd. Ring it. No one will judge you."

With a grimace, Judd struck the bell. The clear, resonant chime echoed across the playground.

Kayvaan's training regimen for the soldiers was brutal and unrelenting. Over the first three days, more than fifty soldiers succumbed to the relentless physical and mental strain, ringing the bell to quit the program. Even some of the instructors, seasoned veterans though they were, found the methods unsettling. Late in the evening of the third day, there was a knock at Kayvaan's door. "Come in."

An instructor entered, saluting with a weariness that betrayed the toll the training was taking on him as well. "Sir."

"Why aren't you resting?" Kayvaan asked, gesturing for him to sit. "The instructors have shifts, don't they?"

"Yes, sir," the man replied, sitting stiffly. "But I wanted to discuss something with you."

Kayvaan raised an eyebrow, curiosity tempered by mild impatience. "Go ahead."

"Sir, don't you think the training is… too harsh? Three soldiers fainted on the field today."

Kayvaan's expression darkened, though his voice remained calm. "Don't we have a medic assigned to the camp? And don't we have the bell? Anyone who can't endure the training is free to quit at any time. The conditions couldn't be more accommodating."

The instructor hesitated. "But the soldiers are suffering, sir."

Kayvaan let out a soft laugh, though there was no humor in it. He leaned back in his chair, studying the man before him. "Instructor, what's your name and rank?"

"Richard, sir. Former commander of the Army Special Operations Battalion, rank of colonel."

"Special forces, huh?" Kayvaan nodded thoughtfully. "Well, Colonel Richard, let me ask you this: what do you think my job is here?"

Richard blinked, momentarily at a loss. "To train soldiers, sir."

"Wrong. My job is to forge warriors—elite, unyielding, disciplined. Guardians of humanity, not mere soldiers." Kayvaan's tone sharpened. "What you see as cruelty, I see as necessity. The training methods I've implemented here are already softened compared to the standards of other chapters. Do you know how other chapters recruit their warriors?"

Richard shook his head. "I'll educate you," Kayvaan said, his voice cold. "Take the Black Templars, for example. They recruit from feral worlds—places where humanity still lives in the Stone or Iron Age. Life there is a daily battle for survival. These people are hardened by nature itself, far tougher than any resident of Reach. The Black Templars select the strongest from these worlds and pit them against each other in combat to the death. Only the lone survivor earns the chance to join the chapter."

Kayvaan leaned forward, his eyes boring into Richard's. "Every warrior born in a chapter comes at the cost of many lives. Here, I've offered these soldiers a luxury their counterparts don't get: a choice. The bell is there for those who want to leave. Those who stay, who endure, might just have the honor of becoming Templars. So tell me, Colonel, would you prefer I coddle them, only for them to die at the hands of a stronger enemy?"

Richard's face flushed with shame. He saluted stiffly. "Understood, sir. My apologies."

"Dismissed." 

Kayvaan remained at the training camp for ten days, ensuring the soldiers were pushed to their limits and beyond. However, his responsibilities extended far beyond the camp. Reach itself demanded his attention—a planet undergoing a radical transformation under his rule.

Reach was slightly larger than Terra, but its population of two billion was sparse compared to pre-cataclysmic Earth. For centuries, Reach had been a peaceful haven, untouched by large-scale war or the Imperium's internal strife. This tranquility had bred complacency, and Kayvaan was determined to change that.

Five years ago, Kayvaan began reshaping Reach into a militarized stronghold. What had once been a paradise was now evolving into a disciplined, war-ready society. His methods were both practical and ruthless, borrowing from the totalitarian playbooks of ancient regimes.

At the core of his reforms were three pillars: control of public opinion, indoctrination through education, and strict governance. Kayvaan's propaganda machine painted the Templar chapter as the pride of Reach, the vanguard of humanity's defense against chaos and xenos threats. Recruitment drives and mandatory service cultivated a culture of duty and sacrifice. Meanwhile, harsh laws ensured compliance, punishing dissent with unflinching severity.

Kayvaan's first start with the propaganda he didn't need to fabricate anything; the Imperium already had an abundance of them. The problem was that no one on Reach cared to watch. With their pockets full and lives comfortable, the citizens preferred lighthearted entertainment over grim tales of war and suffering. But that changed with a single decree.

Horror films—documentaries of Imperial defeats and alien horrors—began to dominate the airwaves. Theaters offered free screenings to large military units, ensuring maximum exposure. The content was brutal and unfiltered, featuring vivid footage of entire cities reduced to rubble, vibrant worlds consumed by flame, and the monstrous cruelty of orks, the alien cunning of the Eldar, and the grotesque horrors of the Chaos Legions.

These were no tales of distant legends. These were real, documented tragedies, raw and unflinching. The people of Reach, who had once lived as if the galaxy beyond their skies didn't exist, were now confronted with the stark reality of its dangers. They screamed in terror at the depravity and destruction displayed on-screen. The safe bubble they had lived in was punctured.

Before Kayvaan's arrival, most of Reach's population lived contentedly in their small worlds, ignorant and indifferent to the galaxy's vastness. Kayvaan yanked their heads from the sand, forcing them to see the chaos that loomed just beyond their idyllic horizons.

The campaign of fear did not end with horror films. As the people grew accustomed to these chilling displays, the narrative shifted. It wasn't enough to scare them; Kayvaan had to show them the Imperium's strength and unity. Carefully curated propaganda highlighted the power of the Imperial military, its unwavering dedication, and its soldiers' unmatched bravery. The message was clear: the galaxy was filled with unimaginable horrors, but the Imperium would protect them—if they were willing to fight for it.

This was the perfect time to introduce a universal military service system. Under Kayvaan's decree, the Reach Defense Force was restructured and expanded. All young citizens were required to undergo basic military training before being incorporated into a militia. In this way, every citizen became a potential soldier, capable of picking up arms in the event of an invasion.