Warhammer 40k : Starting as a Primarch

Linbas, of the Eight Etheric Realms of Chaos, was no more. The Great Unclean One met his demise, fading into the void in an uncharacteristically peaceful manner. His essence was unmade, returned to the eternal silence of nothingness.

Yet in his final moments, Linbas left behind an enigma—one that weighed heavily on the Primarch's mind.

But Dukel had no time to unravel mysteries.

The battlefield remained a maelstrom of chaos. The Withered Legion, maddened by their master's destruction, erupted into a frenzy. Though the remaining Plague Lords lacked the strength to command such a vast horde, the tide of Nurgle's forces pressed on, their assault unrelenting.

Amid the carnage, Dukel wielded his chainsword with the fury of a demigod, his soul aflame. His strikes cleaved through the plague-ridden hordes, and with the final fall of a plague zombie, the Imperial banners reclaimed the desecrated world.

The war was over.

Some soldiers cheered; others stood in solemn silence.

Victory had been hard-won, fraught with peril at every turn. The campaign against Nurgle's forces had been the most grueling battle the Expeditionary Corps had ever faced.

The strategies were daring: deploying the Purification Corps as bait, withstanding the ambush of the Blight Legion's countless legions, and enduring horrors like the Seven Stews of Nurgle. Every step teetered on the brink of disaster. Countless lives were spent as pawns in the cruel games of the Ruinous Powers, their suffering a testament to the gods' malice.

And yet, despite their intricate plots, the Dark Gods had made one grave miscalculation: they underestimated the power of a Primarch.

No scheme, no treachery, could stand against the might of Dukel.

But this was only a prelude.

The gods' machinations had only begun, their threads weaving an intricate web of conspiracy that ensnared Dukel and his fleet. Still, now was not the time for future worries—there were survivors to save.

Imperial aircraft descended en masse, scouring the war-torn world for those who had endured the horrors of Chaos.

The survivors—emaciated, pale, and hollow-eyed—were drawn from the depths of their shelters. Long months of deprivation and torment had left them frail and haunted. The women and children bore the worst of it, their skeletal frames a testament to their suffering.

But they had survived.

Dukel, however, did not join the celebrations.

After the battle, the Primarch withdrew to the Inner Fire, his private quarters aboard the flagship. There, he secluded himself, speaking to no one save for a brief audience with Efilar, who confirmed his well-being to prevent rumors of injury from spreading among the fleet.

Alone in his chamber, Dukel reflected.

"The Great Unclean One is gone," he mused. "Not merely defeated—obliterated. Even his essence has been absorbed, transformed into my strength."

The Primarch's mind raced. Despite his intellect, he could not fully grasp the implications of what had transpired.

A Great Unclean One was no mere daemon. These beings were extensions of their patron god, manifestations of divine will and authority. While ordinary daemons could be banished, the destruction of a Great Daemon signified a fundamental disruption of its god's power.

And yet, here he was—having consumed and assimilated part of Nurgle's essence.

Such an act should have been impossible.

The Warp operated on its own twisted logic, its domains governed by the eight great realms of Chaos:

True North: Corruption and Destruction God: Unknown (Disqualified. Obsessed with cosplay, perpetually bound to the Golden Throne).

Northeast: Hellstorm God: Tzeentch (Incumbent).

East: Vicious Craft God: Vacant. (Vashtorr the Arkifane aspires to claim this domain).

Southeast: Ecstatic Sensation God: Slaanesh (Incumbent).

True South: Greedy Consumption God: Vacant. (The Tyranid Hive Mind, a contender for ascension, lurks here).

Southwest: Corruption and Decay God: Nurgle (Incumbent).

West: Invisible Distortion God: Vacant. (Tzeentch is rumored to covet this realm, which would make him unparalleled among the gods).

Northwest: Mindless Slaughter God: Khorne (Incumbent).

And at the center lay the most enigmatic realm of all:

The Core: The Primordial Destroyer The essence of Chaos itself. A being of ultimate creation and destruction, embodying all that is Chaos. Though missing, its influence permeates all.

Dukel pondered his own role within this cosmology.

The essence he wielded—his ability to absorb and transform—seemed aligned with the domain of Greedy Consumption. Yet, it was more potent than anything the Tyranids could muster.

Had he somehow tapped into the power of the Primordial Destroyer itself? Could his essence be a fragment of the Original Truth?

He recalled how the Emperor, in his quest for power, had delved into the mysteries of the gods. Had the Master of Mankind unknowingly imparted such a fragment to him?

These questions had no immediate answers.

"It's pointless to dwell on this now," Dukel concluded. "There are more pressing matters."

He turned his thoughts to practicalities: research into mind-cultivation techniques and biomagnetic field technology, and the strange tale of Kane, who had arrived in this realm while chasing a greenskin fleet.

"Perhaps Kane holds answers," Dukel muttered. "I should summon him."

The Primarch rose, his determination renewed. The chaos of the Warp was vast, but his path—though shrouded in uncertainty—beckoned him forward.

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