Warhammer 40k:The Lone Star

Chapter 4: The Weight of Kindness

POV: Leon

Location: Unknown

Darkness.

That was all I saw. An endless abyss stretching before me, without path or purpose. I wandered, my steps uncertain, my thoughts drifting like whispers in the void. Time held no meaning here. Seconds, minutes, hours—all bled together, indistinguishable.

Then, the visions came.

My father. Myself as a child. We moved through the shattered remnants of our world, offering aid to those in need, even when we had little to give. It felt right. It *was* right. But to others, it was unnatural. They recoiled from kindness as though it was some alien thing, something incomprehensible. I saw the way they looked at us—suspicious, wary, afraid.

As a child, I never understood why.

Now I do.

This universe is cruel. Those who extend a hand in kindness are often the first to have it severed. The benevolent die quickly. My father... he was no exception.

I remember that day so clearly—the day he disregarded his creed, abandoning his mission to help others, focusing solely on my survival. I didn't understand then. I couldn't comprehend why he chose me over all the others.

And then, I saw Him.

The Emperor. The Master of Mankind.

I do not know how I beheld Him, nor how I possessed the knowledge I spoke with, but I *knew* that something changed in me that day. My father perished. Our hive city became a living nightmare, overrun by horrors, its streets filled with the wails of the damned and the roars of the monstrous.

It was Hell.

But I did not face it alone. Mr. Jacob was there. My father's friend. In the early days, he was cold, prioritizing my survival above all else. But as I continued to help others—refusing to let my father's legacy die—he began to change. He bore his guilt like a millstone around his neck, every life lost weighing upon his soul.

He made a promise. A foolish, selfish promise.

*No more deaths. Not while I still breathe.*

He ignored his own well-being, pushing himself beyond exhaustion. He was relentless, self-destructive. Those he saved saw this, and it *hurt* them. They did not understand *why* it hurt, only that it did. They begged him to stop, to let them share the burden.

He refused.

And so, I fought him. Not with words, but with fists. I do not remember how it ended, only the look in his eyes—unrelenting guilt, sorrow beyond measure. It was unbearable. He suffered because of me. Because he could not save my father, because he saw too much of him in me.

So I left him there and turned my focus to the camp. I helped reinforce the defenses, tended to the survivors, and eased their guilt where I could. I ventured beyond our walls, scavenging, searching for those lucky enough to have survived another day. One at a time, I let them come with me, let them *help*. It was dangerous, but it was *right*.

The streets grew worse. More dangers, more suffering. More death.

I couldn't take it anymore.

I had to change. I had to be *better*.

Better than my father. Better than Mr. Jacob.

I had to understand my kindness—to know *when* to give it, and *who* was worthy of it. I had to be more than just a man helping where he could. I had to be a *force*. A beacon. A protector. I had to—

—*Understand*.

---

A deep, resounding sigh echoed through the void. A voice, regal and immeasurable, rumbled in my mind.

"SUCH A TROUBLESOME HERALD YOU ARE."

I knew that voice. The sheer *weight* of it crushed against my soul, both comforting and terrifying. But before I could respond, another presence slithered into my awareness—a tainted, writhing *thing*, lurking at the edges of my mind.

The voice thundered again, filled with wrath.

"YOU FILTH. BEGONE. IF YOU TAINT MY HERALD, I SHALL BURN THE GREAT LIBRARY IN WHICH YOU RESIDE, YOU WRETCHED ABOMINATION."

A terrible screech followed, a sound so vile it sent knives of agony through my skull. I clutched my head, gritting my teeth against the pain.

Then, silence.

The presence was gone. The abyss trembled in its wake.

"GOOD. NOW, LEONDIS VARKAS," the voice intoned, its divine authority undeniable. "IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO WAKE UP."

A brilliant light engulfed me. A figure sat upon a throne of gold, radiant and all-encompassing.

Then, darkness once more.

---

I woke to the sight of a familiar ceiling, the dull ache of my body a stark contrast to the dream—or was it a vision? I groaned, trying to move, but my limbs were leaden, my strength sapped.

So I waited.

The door creaked open, the sound of quiet footsteps approaching. A curtain was drawn back, and a woman entered my view.

Aunty Cass.

I forced a strained smile, my voice hoarse and weak. "Hi, Aunty Cass."

She stood frozen for a moment, her eyes wide. Then, tears welled up, spilling over as she gasped, her hands trembling.

And then she screamed, her voice filled with unrestrained joy, echoing through the camp like a warcry of triumph.

"LEON!!!"