Warhammer 40k : Starting as a Primarch

It was a perfect attack.

Dukel's piercing eyes gazed into the depths of the Immaterium, tearing through the Sea of Souls to uncover the identity of the despicable assailant. When he recognized his foe, fury ignited within him. The wrath of the Primarch manifested in the Warp like a raging inferno, bathing the surroundings in a searing red light. Dark entities hidden in the shadows shrieked in terror, their twisted forms consumed by the flames, as they prayed desperately for the being's unbridled rage to subside.

"Magnus!"

The psychic resonance of Dukel's voice rippled through the Immaterium, echoing across the ranks of the Thousand Sons fleet. The sheer weight of his murderous intent sent chills down the spines of the traitor legionaries, instilling a primal fear.

It took only a glance for Dukel to identify the attacker. Magnus the Red, the seeker of forbidden truths. The brother who had succumbed to the temptations of Chaos and unleashed psychic sorcery upon the Emperor's Webway Project, dooming the Master of Mankind to his eternal throne. Magnus was the architect of humanity's fall into the Age of Darkness.

Even Horus' rebellion did not inflict half the damage wrought by Magnus.

The Thousand Sons fleet had assumed a disciplined square formation, with a singular, monumental structure at its center: the City of Light. Once a crystalline marvel of Prospero, the Great Pyramid of Tizca had been the heart of knowledge and art—a pinnacle of human achievement.

Now, it stood twisted and grotesque, its crystalline façade marred by malice. Gigantic crimson eyes, embedded in the structure, glared malevolently at the world around them.

"Number Two, we meet again," Magnus declared as he emerged from the pyramid. His voice was calm, but tinged with condescension. "Still impulsive, still ruled by your emotions."

The Primarch of the Thousand Sons strode forward, his form towering and monstrous. His warped body dwarfed even three Astartes standing atop one another, an unsettling testament to the power afforded to him by his patron god, Tzeentch. In the Immaterium, a Daemon Primarch's might eclipsed anything possible in realspace.

Magnus sneered. "Unfortunately for you, no amount of anger can frighten me!"

His towering form swelled further, crackling with psychic energy. Magnus reveled in his superiority within the Warp, the domain where his strength was unparalleled.

Magnus had been condemned for his role in sabotaging the Webway Project. The Emperor had dispatched the Space Wolves to bring him to Terra, but the mission had been subverted by Chaos. The corrupted message instructed the Wolves to annihilate the Fifteenth Legion and its Primarch instead.

In the ensuing battle, Leman Russ defeated Magnus, shattering his body and spirit. Yet, at the cost of his own soul, Magnus had cast a desperate spell, teleporting the Thousand Sons and the Great Pyramid into the Warp. What remained of Magnus was claimed by Tzeentch, elevating him to the status of Daemon Prince.

Now, Magnus stood before Dukel with motives unfathomable to most mortals. Though ostensibly seeking to thwart the machinations of the gods, his actions were driven by a deeper purpose—to please the Lord of Change. By disrupting the grand designs of Chaos, Magnus sought to curry favor with his patron.

"My brother," Magnus intoned, "you mistake ignorance for sin. You lash out like a beast trapped in a cage, unable to comprehend the futility of brute force. What can you possibly do to me here?"

The smugness in his tone was unmistakable.

But Dukel, uncharacteristically, was calm. His rage simmered beneath the surface, restrained but no less potent. His fleet was outmaneuvered, their firepower stymied by the Thousand Sons' precise tactics. The rune-shield of the Great Pyramid rendered a direct assault nearly impossible.

Even the Mind Matrix that bolstered his fleet could not prevent the cracks forming in its defenses.

"Your Highness, please reconsider," urged Commissar Kane, sensing the Primarch's growing fury. He knew Dukel too well. Calmness in such a moment only signaled something audacious.

Dukel's anger reached its zenith. His brother's arrogance was insufferable.

Did he think himself untouchable? Dukel would show him the folly of such belief.

Without hesitation, Dukel strode to the mouth of the fleet's macro cannon—a weapon of unimaginable size, its shells weighing thousands of tons. He crouched atop a shell, positioning himself securely.

"Fire!" he ordered.

The fleet's crew hesitated, their voices trembling over the vox. "Your Highness, that's—"

"Fire! That is an order!" Dukel thundered.

Moments later, the macro cannon roared. The recoil alone could have obliterated lesser mortals. The shell, with Dukel at its forefront, tore through the Warp—a feat no one had dared attempt. In realspace, such an act would be unthinkable, but within the Immaterium, where the laws of physics were pliable, it was possible.

Protected by the immense psychic energies of his flagship's Mind Matrix, Dukel hurtled toward the Great Pyramid.

The shell struck its target with catastrophic force, breaching the rune-shield in a blaze of soul fire. The explosion sent crystalline fragments flying as the Great Pyramid quaked. Magnus' fortress trembled under the impact, its majestic halls collapsing in chaos.

From the rubble, Dukel emerged unscathed. He spat out fragments of crystal and rose to his full height, towering even over the Daemon Primarch. Each step he took reverberated through the pyramid, as if the structure itself cowered before him.

"Magnus!" Dukel's voice thundered. "Repeat what you just said. I dare you."

The flames of his wrath filled the hall, barring the approach of the Thousand Sons' sorcerers. Magnus recoiled, his arrogance replaced with unease. For all his power, he had underestimated Dukel's audacity.

"When… when did you go mad?!" Magnus stammered, his confidence shattered.

The answer was clear: Dukel had been pushed to his breaking point, and there was no turning back.

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