Warhammer 40k : Starting as a Primarch

Amidst the chaotic tides of the Warp, the battleship Inner Fire led the Imperial Expeditionary Fleet towards the distant cradle of humanity—Terra.

...

With rhythmic footsteps echoing down the dimly lit corridor, a towering figure wrapped in an immense robe moved with silent grace. The Goddess of Life, Isha, followed the guidance of a group of silent, veiled nuns, their heavy vestments rustling softly as they led her through the labyrinthine passageways of the ship. Finally, they reached their destination.

The great metal doors parted with a hiss, revealing the chamber beyond.

Seated upon a massive throne befitting his formidable stature, the Primarch Dukel reclined slightly, one hand supporting his head in deep contemplation. Standing on either side of him were two saints—Efilar and Shivara—clad in silver-white armor, their features radiant with an ethereal, angelic presence.

Isha bowed her head respectfully. "Lord Dukel, your follower Isha greets you."

The sound of her voice drew the Primarch from his thoughts. His gaze, sharp as a blade, fell upon her as he spoke, his tone weighty with authority.

"As everyone knows, I am a reasonable man," he declared, his voice deep and unwavering. "I have never sought to impose my will on others."

Isha blinked in astonishment, but her mind quickly conjured images that starkly contradicted his words:

The Garden of Nurgle, smashed, looted, and set ablaze.

The apes, 'willingly' sent to the Argent Energy Plant.

Trazyn, forced into endless archaeological research.

The Titans, hunted across entire sectors until their homeworld was reduced to rubble.

Her memories of the past three Terran years had been filled with such brutal scenes. And yet—

"You are right," she replied, her voice composed. "Your kindness shines brighter than the stars in the galaxy."

Isha had learned much in her time at Dukel's side. Adaptation was survival.

The Primarch regarded her with satisfaction. "You have grown, Isha. When we first met in the Garden of Nurgle, you were but a naive child. Now, you have mastered hypocrisy and self-deception."

Isha lowered her head in silence, her fists clenching within the folds of her robes. But before she could react, Dukel's next words sent a chill through her.

"Isha, do you know why I have not destroyed you?"

She hesitated. "Because… of the Supreme Heaven's essence?"

"A foolish assumption. If I destroyed you, I would still absorb your essence."

"Please forgive my ignorance." Isha knelt on one knee, lowering her head in deference.

Dukel's expression remained unreadable. "I have need of your abilities and authority. As I have said before, I am not one to impose my will on others." He leaned forward slightly. "I require you for a task."

"Please give your command," Isha responded immediately.

But instead of answering, Dukel said, "First, let me tell you a story."

Dukel's voice was calm yet commanding as he began. "It may be difficult to believe, but the Emperor of Mankind never sought dominion over all life. Before human civilization even emerged, He wandered the wilderness and the cities, amassing wisdom beyond mortal comprehension."

Isha listened intently, enraptured by the tale. Though their allegiances differed, she could not help but be moved by the Emperor's deeds. Nobility transcended species.

"In those ancient days," Dukel continued, "the Emperor was no tyrant, no conqueror. He was a god who walked among men, influencing the course of history without desire for personal gain. He loved humanity not as a ruler, but as a guardian."

Isha felt an unfamiliar resonance with the story. A god who cherished every human life… a selfless being.

Then Dukel's tone darkened. "But humanity's fate was not so kind. If not for one fateful event, the Emperor might have remained among His people, hidden forever. Before that tragedy, mankind had already achieved greatness."

"The STC templates unearthed by the Mechanicus are remnants of that era," Dukel explained. "By Mankind's Fourth Millennium, humans had already discovered the existence of the Warp. But like all young races, they underestimated its dangers. Their hubris led to catastrophe. A cataclysmic Warp storm and the rebellion of the Men of Iron shattered their golden age."

Isha listened in silence, absorbing the weight of humanity's loss.

"For thousands of years, darkness swallowed our kind. Countless human worlds fell, and entire populations were enslaved by xenos. It was then that the Emperor could no longer stand idly by. He chose to intervene."

Dukel's voice deepened. "The Emperor knew that mankind's salvation lay in severing its dependence on the Warp. Thus, He embarked on a project—His greatest gift to humanity. Even the Imperium today exists, in part, to realize His vision."

Isha's eyes widened. "The Webway?"

She knew of it well—the Eldar still traversed the labyrinthine passages of the ancient Webway.

"Yes," Dukel confirmed. "Had the Webway project succeeded, humanity would have been freed from its reliance on the Warp. Perhaps the Emperor foresaw the Imperium's current decay, which is why He moved with such urgency ten millennia ago."

Isha furrowed her brow. "But… Your Majesty failed."

Dukel's expression remained unchanged. "Our Majesty," he corrected. "You swore fealty to me, which makes you part of my cause. And yes, He failed. He was betrayed by my brother Horus, manipulated by the Dark Gods. Magnus, in his folly, shattered the Webway's fragile walls with his sorcery. Blood drowned the stars. The Emperor was mortally wounded and entombed upon the Golden Throne—the most agonizing prison in the galaxy."

Isha shuddered. She could feel the weight of despair woven into the tale. At last, she understood why Dukel had summoned her.

"You wish for me to heal the Emperor?" she asked cautiously.

Dukel shook his head. "No."

Isha's breath caught. "Then… what do you ask of me?"

"I need you to restore life to His body," Dukel said slowly, "but not to heal Him. Not yet. Until I give the order, the Emperor must remain in a state of living death."

Isha recoiled. "Why?!"

Her shock was genuine. The Emperor's nobility, His selfless sacrifice—she wanted nothing more than to see Him restored. Even an Eldar goddess could recognize the tragedy of His suffering.

"Why would you, His son, prevent His resurrection?"

Dukel remained silent for a long moment before finally speaking. "Because I am unsure of what He has become."

Isha paled. "What do you mean? The Emperor is immortal. If His body is restored, His soul will return. Are you afraid of what He will do?"

She stared at Dukel, dread creeping into her thoughts. As a deity, she knew truths beyond mortal comprehension. And now, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place.

"Do you remember the birth of Slaanesh?" Dukel's voice was measured, heavy with meaning. "It is said that the Dark Prince was not simply born, but manifested—an abomination spawned from the Eldar's unrelenting excess. Countless souls, lost in their ecstasy, collapsed into a single, deafening scream that echoed across the Immaterium, consuming their very essence."

Aisha's expression darkened, grief clouding her divine radiance. "I will never forget." Her voice wavered. "I bore witness to the Fall. Even after millennia, the sorrow remains."

She took a breath, steeling herself. "But what does this have to do with the Emperor? He is unlike the Eldar—he is above such weakness. How could one as noble as He succumb to the darkness?"

"Then understand this: What happens when an entire species worships a god, not with reverence, but with fear, desperation, and agony?" Dukel's voice grew solemn. "What happens when a god endures ten millennia of unending torment, sustained only by the faith of a dying empire?"

Isha's blood ran cold.

And for the first time, she began to grasp the terrible truth Dukel feared to speak

"This is not submission." His voice was steady, solemn. "On the contrary... the Lord of Darkness is His essence."

He could see the disbelief in Aisha's eyes, but he pressed on. If he was to secure her full cooperation, she had to understand the deepest, most terrifying secret of the Imperium.

"According to fragmented and ancient rumors, a catastrophic accident during a shamanistic ritual in humanity's distant past inadvertently summoned the Dark Lord into the material realm. That being is the Emperor. Over the millennia, countless souls have placed their faith in Him, and in doing so, they have shaped Him, giving Him many faces."

"During the 30th Millennium, the Emperor retained His sanity. His myriad aspects allowed every observer to perceive Him as they most desired—holy, powerful, noble, innocent, even ordinary. This multiplicity was a testament to His unparalleled might."

"But that does not mean He was inevitably bound to darkness," the Goddess of Life countered. "You and I both possess the essence of the Warp."

"True. If mere exposure to the Warp dictated corruption, the Emperor's will alone would have been enough to guard His soul for eternity. But look at what humanity has done in the ten thousand years since He ascended the Golden Throne."

"They have abandoned reason and embraced blind faith. Billions worship Him fanatically, performing grotesque rituals in His name, wielding His image as justification for massacre, depravity, madness, and betrayal. As long as an atrocity is committed in His name, it is deemed holy. Tell me, how does this differ from the debauched excess that once birthed Slaanesh?"

Dukel's voice grew heavy. "I do not want to believe the Emperor has been corrupted. But in my last few encounters with Him, I have sensed it—an encroaching madness, a slow descent into Chaos. His will, once a guiding beacon, is being drowned beneath the weight of humanity's collective faith. The countless deranged thoughts of His worshipers have twisted His mind into a chaotic storm, a cacophony of conflicting desires."

His gaze bore into Isha, and the weight of uncountable souls pressed upon her shoulders, forcing her to lower her head in instinctive reverence. For a moment, time itself seemed to stall. When it resumed, Dukel's voice carried the gravity of a cosmic ultimatum.

"If you were in my place, would you take this gamble? Would you stake the fate of humanity, even the entire galaxy, on the hope that when the Emperor awakens, He will still be the benevolent guardian of mankind—and not the Dark King?"

Each word struck Isha like a hammer against her chest. She could see it—the black star of madness, consuming all life and soul in its path.

The sheer pressure of the vision nearly brought her to her knees. But she resisted, raising her gaze to meet Dukel's.

Over time, her perception of him had changed too many times to count. A ruthless butcher of life. An unyielding destroyer of Chaos. A fearless warrior-king. Each title fit him, yet none encompassed the full truth.

But never had she imagined that this man bore such a colossal burden upon his shoulders.

"What should we do? How do we ensure the survival of all sentient life in this universe? Please, grant me guidance, my lord."

For the first time, the Goddess of Life's voice carried no resistance—only humility, born not from fear of his power, but reverence for his unwavering resolve.

"While you heal the Emperor's physical body, I will enter the Immaterium and slay the malignant wills corrupting His mind," Dukel declared. "My essence grants me the power to destroy such entities completely. Even if that entity is the Emperor Himself."

Isha's voice was barely a whisper. "And if you fail?"

"Then I will take up a weapon of damnation—the daemon blade Drak'nyen. Forged from the first murder in human history, it carries the power to slay even the Emperor. If the worst comes to pass, I will wield this cursed sword and end Him before the galaxy burns."

"And if you fail even then?" Isha asked one final time.

Dukel fell silent. He turned his gaze toward the burning radiance of the Astronomican, as if drawing strength from the stars themselves.

"If I fail," he said at last, "someone will come after me."

A long pause followed before Isha knelt before him, her golden eyes shimmering like shattered stardust.

"Then I will carry your will. I will see this great mission through to eternity. I will serve you until the journey's end."

Her voice wavered, but her conviction did not. "This path will be fraught with hardship. Even your own kind will rise against you."

Dukel's lips curled into a cold smile. The scent of blood filled the chamber as he whispered his reply.

"No one can stop me."

He repeated himself, softer, yet filled with absolute certainty.

"No one."