Warhammer: Primarch's Life from the Beginning

Subspace, Imperial Will.

The ship was wrecked, its core engines shut down. Most of the Star Speakers had long since been executed for losing their minds, severing the ship's connection with the Empire. The navigator was blinded by the storm, and the crew was lost in its fury.

She was the flagship of the Second Company of the Ultramarines Chapter, but now she could only drift with the current, wandering beyond the veil, unable to catch the light of the starlight, and no one knew where she was. Death and corruption bred in the ship's pipes, and shadows could pounce on any passing human at any moment.

In the depths of darkness, the Second Company Commander, Cato Sicarius, stood with his sword in hand.

Primarch Guilliman had sent him back to his home planet, the Limits, to guard the rear when he set out for the expedition, but Sicarius was attacked by a daemon during a warp voyage and was unable to reach his destination.

He never broke down, nor did he fall during the protracted war in the warp that lasted for years.

With the ship facing a power shortage and life support systems unable to supply all areas, they were forced to close several decks. All area facilities were crammed into one place, including Sicarius's own quarters, which were converted into a operations room. Under such extreme survival conditions, personal privacy was no longer an important matter.

At this moment, Sicarius's room was crowded with people.

"I've discovered something very serious." A technical sergeant placed the projector on the holographic table, and the Emperor's Will's power chart immediately unfolded. A fluorescent green light shone on the unshaven faces of the crew. To save power, they had long been accustomed to turning off the lights and working in the dark, but now the situation was far from optimistic.

"Our problems go far beyond this," Sicarius said, staring intently at the charts. "So, right now, our power is running out?"

"The ship, our armor, everything." The technical sergeant was a Proto-Forged Space Marine, tall and professionally trained at the Martian base. "The Imperial Will has enough power reserves to last for decades, most of its systems are self-sustaining, and our armored engines can operate for many more years."

"But the longer we stay in this sea of ​​souls, the faster our energy is depleted, and our reserves have already run out."

"There's also the issue of survival," the quartermaster chimed in. The thin woman looked particularly small among the Space Marines. "Our agricultural stocks are starting to spoil, and we don't have the capacity to produce more. Our rations have been halved."

Sicarius turned his attention to the quartermaster. Hunger was spreading on the ship, especially among the lower classes, where riots and murders had occurred in recent days. The mortals huddled in the dark barracks, craving light and air, but he could give them nothing.

"Then you'll have to be even more frugal, Quartermaster," Sicarius said, trying to remain amiable. "The overall operation of the ship cannot be interrupted."

"As for electricity... let's stop using it for weapons and equipment maintenance, shut down all unnecessary consumption as much as possible, and transfer all energy to supply production lines and life support equipment."

Sicarius had fought in many battles, and his list of honors could stretch all the parchment from the printer to the floor. But now, it was a burden, a stagnation; all the fighting was for survival, and there was no honor to speak of.

The great warrior vanished from the Empire, dying silently in the Warp, with no story to commemorate his passing. He couldn't help but wonder if this was his destiny.

Did he betray Primarch Guilliman's trust? Did he fail the expectations of so many people on the ship?

"So, Master? Have we received any news from the Unyielding Expeditionary Force so far?" He couldn't think any further; contemplation in the warp was too dangerous. "Even a tiny fragment?"

An old man in a purple robe approached, his face covered by a cloth. "There were only some faint whispers, but they weren't from the expeditionary fleet; they were other voices."

His emaciated figure was either due to years of hunger or was naturally like that. He leaned on a black scepter with a silver eye emblem on it, the symbol of the Star Court.

"I dare not risk lingering in the warp for too long. Although the sound was muffled, I was certain it was an Imperial ship. My blind eyes once again felt the Emperor's light."

Everyone expected the old man to repeat those vague and fruitless words, but they hadn't heard words like "empire" or "emperor's light" for a long time.

Upon hearing this, the company champion made a hawk salute on his chest, thinking no one would notice the slight tremor in his forearm.

This is akin to seeing an oasis in the desert; even a mirage can invigorate one's spirits.

"Keep your attention, Master." Sicarius was also slightly moved, but another thought also came to mind: Could this be another trap set by the devil? Give the white mouse trapped in the maze some food scents to lure it into the guillotine?

He felt that he, like the Imperial Will, was nearing its limit.

.

As before, there was another disturbance on the lower deck, but this time it was more serious.

When the Ultramarines arrived, a grain silo was burning fiercely, the thick smoke making the air somewhat suffocating, and the smell was rather strange.

More than 700 mortals were brought under control. These troublemakers had sunken cheeks and dark circles under their eyes. Their voices trembled and they had difficulty breathing when they saw the Space Marines. They killed the Overseer with whom they had a dispute.

The ringleaders shouted that the food must not be eaten, and all those who ate it out of desperation died, and the disease spread from there!

The Ultramarines tried to avoid bloodshed, initially believing it to be a rebellion, until they saw the grain move on its own, transforming into a large, human-faced worm that shrieked...

As the investigation continued, the smell of blood from the massacre began to emanate from the deck.

Several platoons of Imperial Navy soldiers were devoured and chewed up, piled up in one place.

Just as the Primal Forged warriors in charge of dealing with the disaster were preparing to burn the corpses, the mass of flesh began to undulate and move, stitching together all the body parts in the Convergence Hall.

The nearest Space Marine was almost instantly devoured and killed. The mortal officer who witnessed this horror was completely overwhelmed by terror and howled with every step he took as he fled.

This was a sacrificial ritual; cultists on board summoned demons in an attempt to take everyone on board with them.

The series of explosions, triggered by the detonation of explosives planted by the cultists, signaled the start of the conflict.

In collusion with these traitors, the Chaos Space Marines boarded the ship and rushed inside the Imperial Will, aiming to destroy the warp engines and shut down the Geller Field.

Intense fighting immediately broke out in the engine area.

A Nurgle creature from hell, composed of the flesh and blood of the dead on the ship, shrieked and screamed the names of these corpses as it writhed rapidly across the deck. Visibly, it evolved and grew within the intricate network of pipes and tunnels, its back molting into a carapace, and seven long, thin, black legs covered in thick, black hairs, giving it the overall appearance of a spider, as enormous and fearless as ever.

The original Ultra Warriors on the scene fought and retreated, even if they aimed to sever the creature's limbs, new thighs would immediately pierce through its flesh. It continued to grow, three human faces appearing as eyes, smashing and crushing the Ultra Warriors firing in front of it, and a huge maw split open on its torso, biting into chunks of the warrior's flesh.

Even with daily checks to prevent corruption and contamination, darkness still finds a way into people's hearts.

Upon receiving the news, Sicarius vowed to risk his life to save them from the monster. He immediately took the company champion and led the team to the lower levels.

.

Why didn't people realize before that the deck where the anomaly occurred had been there for so long?

The surviving Space Marines, almost at top speed, carried the mortal officers to the deck exit, where they used grenades to set traps and try to block the monster's path.

But that thing still caught up with them, sometimes charging, sometimes flying with its newly evolved insect wings, and soon it reached the fleeing crowd.

The screams of being skinned alive echoed in the minds of the Space Marines. These superhumans suppressed any negative emotions in their hearts and focused on the work at hand. Fear would kill reason, and the loss of reason would lead to physical death.

They planned to close the exit gate and lock the thing inside the prison.

Like a 100-meter sprinter crossing the finish line, the survivors burst through the gates, followed closely by the distant thud of the ground being gripped. The warriors who had chosen to stay behind and die to cover the retreat had already been torn apart by the monster.

"Your throne is above..." The mortal official in charge of operating the switch saw that during the friction of the gears, the power system suddenly failed, the indicator light went out, and the gate stopped after descending only halfway.

The desperate mortal let out a sorrowful sigh. After years of drifting in the warp, she was finally going to join her former comrades on their journey to the throne.

"Stand behind me."

She heard a familiar voice; it was Sicarius, the company commander, who ordered the soldiers around him to take these mortals to safety.

The survivors warned their comrades who were coming to their aid about how terrifying the monster was.

The solemn knight stared intently at the bloated behemoth before him. As long as he lived, he would fight against fate to the very end, and such an end was worthy of him.

Sicarius drew his power sword and walked through the gate with the champion beside him.

courage.

glory.

.

.

His purple robes were soaked with sweat as the Star Language Master sat cross-legged in his room, trying his best to receive the ethereal voice from the sea of ​​souls.

Chaos Space Marines caused devastating damage to the engine zone. The chapter's technical sergeants led a desperate resistance, but were almost completely wiped out. The Geller Force is on the verge of collapse in this turmoil.

The sounds of gunfire and the whispers of terror echoed through the mind of this star-speaker.

The fear of the total destruction of his ships filled his mind.

Sooner or later, everyone has come to accept this belated death.

Until one moment, he wasn't sure if it was a hallucination, but a golden light appeared in the master's psychic vision, as mesmerizing as a lighthouse in the deep sea.

"Oh, the Emperor's mercy..."

He ceased his psionic explorations because the work ahead no longer required him as a star talker.

The same announcement was repeated over the bridge loudspeaker on the Imperial Will.

"This is the Holy Commandment. My fellow Ultramarines, hold on! Reinforcements are on their way."