Warhammer 40k : Starting as a Primarch

The roar of the 50,000-horsepower magnetic field engines drove an unstoppable force, allowing mortals to unleash astonishing strength.

Against this overwhelming power and speed, even the resilient bodies of the Ork warriors were effortlessly torn asunder.

From the comms channel, voices echoed in quick succession:

"The sixth coordinate point is secured."

"Coordinate eight secured."

"Point thirteen confirmed... Seventeen... Twenty-two secured."

On the frontlines, the Primarch drew the full attention of the Ork horde. Their collective focus allowed for the swift and efficient occupation of all twenty-two strategic points.

"Initiate the construction of the Mind Matrix!"

At the command, the immense psychic energy from the Custodians—each a node in this vast network—unfolded into a colossal field. Invisible ripples radiated outward in layered waves, blanketing the battlefield.

The Mind Matrix's range was enormous, capable of encompassing an entire Imperial fleet during Warp navigation when powered by tens of thousands of psykers. While the current force of 5,000 Custodians generated a smaller field, it was sufficient to cover a radius of 50 kilometers.

On the Battlefield

Dukel, who had previously been pinned down by the Orks' heavy fire, suddenly felt relief.

The Mind Matrix's psychic field wasn't enough to completely dispel the Orks' Waaagh! field, but it effectively suppressed it. Without their chaotic energy to power their ramshackle machinery, many of the Orks' war engines sputtered and failed.

Explosions rocked the battlefield as malfunctioning war machines detonated, sending their hapless Ork pilots hurtling skyward.

Freed from the oppressive firepower, the Primarch surged forward, his chainsword roaring like a primal beast.

Green-skinned warriors fell one after another, their crude weapons no match for the godlike speed and precision of their foe. The Orks, now stripped of their ranged firepower, were forced into close combat—an act of futility against the wrath of a Primarch.

"Monster!"

To the Orks, the Primarch had become an indescribable terror. The bravest of them trembled, their knees buckling under his unrelenting gaze.

To be stared down by this being was not a figure of speech; it was a death sentence.

From above, the battlefield was painted red as the Primarch carved a direct path through the Ork ranks, heading toward their core defenses.

As the slaughter continued, Dukel gathered more data, calculating the location of the Warlord Bonebreaker with precision.

Pushing through disorganized mobs of war boys, the Primarch finally reached an Ork defensive line.

Here, the greenskins had rallied, gathering like a swarm of ants to fortify their position.

"This will slow me down," Dukel mused, recognizing their strategy of attrition. Even for a Primarch, breaching such a dense defense would take time.

"Requesting long-range fire support. Coordinates locked. Repeat: requesting long-range fire support."

The fleet responded immediately. Hidden in the planet's orbit, massive Imperial warships turned their guns toward the surface.

"The railgun bombardment is deploying. Take cover immediately. Countdown initiated."

"Three..."

"Two..."

"One..."

The ground quaked as a fiery barrage descended from orbit. Explosions ripped through the Ork defensive line, vaporizing countless greenskins and reducing their fortifications to ash.

Flames reached high into the sky, mushroom clouds forming as the earth crumbled under the relentless assault. The bombardment continued for a full minute, leaving a massive crater where the defenses had once stood.

"Fire support completed. Requesting further bombardment, Your Highness?"

"No need," Dukel replied.

Without missing a beat, he charged through the gap left by the bombardment, cutting deeper into Ork territory.

"Shall we commence the airdrop operation?"

"Proceed."

Hundreds of drop pods descended like blazing meteors, crashing into the battlefield around the Primarch. From each pod emerged squads of Adeptus Astartes, their ceramite armor gleaming in the chaos.

The Orks' anti-aircraft weapons, suppressed by the Mind Matrix, failed to retaliate, allowing the drop troops to land with minimal losses.

Bolters roared, and chainswords howled as the Space Marines methodically carved through the Orks. Reinforcements followed swiftly as transports delivered heavy war machines to the battlefield: Dreadnoughts, War Dog Titans, and even a Knight Titan.

Each machine unleashed devastation, their machine spirits roaring with wrath. Micro-missiles, six-barreled autocannons, and incendiary shells turned the Ork ranks into a hellscape of fire and ash.

Dukel pressed onward, finally reaching the heart of the Ork legion—a mere five kilometers from the Warlord Bonebreaker Sakara.

The massive warlord stood atop a gargantuan war engine. But under the Mind Matrix's suppression, the machine was paralyzed, reduced to a lifeless shell.

The battlefield fell silent for a moment as the two locked eyes. A palpable tension hung in the air, a clash of wills that shook even the most hardened greenskins.

The Orks rallied under the Bonebreaker's bellowing war cries. War horns blared, and mobs of war boys surged forward alongside the terrifying Killa Kans—ramshackle walkers akin to miniature Dreadnoughts.

Bonebreaker sneered from his perch, commanding his troops forward, though he refrained from entering the fray himself.

"Expend them all!" he roared, indifferent to the losses.

The Primarch did not retreat. He stood atop a mountain of Ork corpses, his chainsword dripping with blood.

Orks charged, wave after wave, but their efforts were futile. Dukel was an unstoppable force, cleaving through their ranks with an artistry that turned slaughter into a grotesque ballet.

The greenskins faltered, fear overtaking them.

"Why does he not tire?" they whispered. "Can he even be killed?"

The Bonebreaker's remaining forces gathered for a final stand, a desperate gambit to overwhelm the Primarch. Explosive-laden war boys and heavily armored bosses led the charge.

The battlefield descended into chaos as explosions rocked the area, turning the hill of corpses into a crater.

But from the smoke, the Primarch emerged, unscathed.

He strode forward, his chainsword roaring with renewed fury. The Orks who remained recoiled in terror, their morale shattered.

Bonebreaker stood tall, though his confidence wavered. His forces had been annihilated, his mighty war machine reduced to scrap.

The Primarch approached, placing the bloodstained chainsword on the Warlord's shoulder.

"Are you convinced?" Dukel asked, his voice as cold as the void.

Bonebreaker said nothing, kneeling in defeat as blood pooled beneath him.

...

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