The sun of Kronus IV hung in the sky like a cloudy amber, casting pale purple light upon the barren land.
Gaius pried open a clod of hardened earth with his heavily worn shovel, sweat trickling down his sunburned neck into his patched coarse cloth shirt.
He straightened his aching back, wiped his forehead with a dirt-stained hand, and looked towards the undulating mushroom fields in the distance.
"Just two more rows, then a break," Gaius told himself, his voice hoarse as if sandpaper were rubbing.
The sour taste of the thin mushroom porridge from the morning still lingered in his throat.
Seventeen-year-old Gaius was half a head taller than most people his age; years of labor had given him broad shoulders and strong arm muscles.
But this was meaningless on Kronus IV, everyone here grew strong through labor, only to rapidly age from it.
His father had been the same, collapsing in the fields during last year's harvest and never getting up again.
"Gaius!" a weak voice called from the low hut behind him, "It's time for your medicine."
Gaius put down his shovel, wiped his hands on his pants, and walked towards the crude house built from local shale and salvaged metal sheets.
Inside, it was dim and damp, the only light filtering through a damaged roof, casting purple rays.
His mother, Lisana, was curled up on a bed in the corner, covered by a blanket whose original color was no longer discernible.
"I brought water," Gaius said, scooping half a cup of murky liquid from a water jar by the wall, carefully handing his mother the Imperial-issued pill, a small, grayish-white tablet.
Lisana's hands trembled so much she could barely hold the pill.
Gaius helped her sit up and assisted her in taking the medicine.
These medicines were delivered monthly by shuttle from the orbital station, reportedly refined by the Adeptus Mechanicus from the fungi they cultivated, able to slow but not cure pulmonary fibrosis, the most common occupational disease on Kronus IV.
"How are you feeling today?" Gaius asked, trying to sound cheerful.
Lisana forced a smile, her face crisscrossed with wrinkles like a dried riverbed, "Much better than yesterday. Tok said the western mushroom fields are starting to rot, did you know?"
Gaius nodded.
Mushroom rot was common on this agri-world, but this time the scale was unusually large.
"I'll go take a look, maybe I can salvage some," though he knew hope was slim , once the fungi started to rot, usually the entire field was lost.
He helped his mother lie down and took the old laser rifle from a hook on the wall.
This gun was his father's, with only 37% charge left in its power pack; Gaius only used it when necessary, usually to scare away wild animals trying to steal food, or occasionally to deal with wandering bandit gangs.
Stepping out of the house, Gaius squinted towards the west.
At the furthest extent of his vision, the sky showed an unhealthy yellowish-green hue, a sign of large-scale fungal spore release.
He sighed, shouldered his gun, and walked in that direction.
Along the way, Gaius passed by his neighbor Tok's fields.
The old man was kneeling between the rows, examining the mushroom stalks with trembling hands.
"How bad is it?" Gaius stopped and asked.
Tok looked up, his cloudy eyes reflecting the purple sunlight.
"The entire western district is gone, child.
I've never seen mushroom stalks rot so quickly."
He coughed a few times, "And... do you smell the air?"
Gaius took a deep breath and indeed caught an unusual scent, like a mix of metal and putrid flesh, making the hairs on his neck stand on end.
This was not a smell that belonged on Kronus IV.
"The shuttle isn't due for another three days," Tok said worriedly, "If this is some new pathogen..."
A sharp shriek interrupted the old man.
Gaius suddenly looked up and saw an orange-red streak in the sky, not a regular shuttle landing path, but a burning meteor, falling towards the west.
"What is that?" Tok asked tremulously.
Gaius' heart pounded, an instinctive alertness seizing him.
"Go home, lock your door," he said curtly, then ran towards the west, the laser rifle clutched tightly in his hand.
As he approached the western district, the strange smell in the air grew stronger.
The rotting mushroom fields displayed an eerie blue-green color, their caps covered with sticky secretions.
But what disturbed Gaius more were the huge footprints on the ground, three-toed, twice his length, deeply impressed into the hard, dry earth.
These were not tracks left by any native Kronus IV creature.
Gaius crouched down, measuring the depth of the footprints with his fingers.
The soil was still moist, meaning the creature that left these marks had passed through recently.
He looked up, scanning his surroundings, and suddenly noticed movement on a distant ridge, several tall figures moving rapidly.
Even at a distance of hundreds of meters, Gaius could tell they were not human.
These creatures were at least 2.5 meters tall, incredibly bulky, their skin a sickly green under the sun.
They emitted guttural shouts, wielding crude but deadly weapons.
GREENSKINS!
Gaius had seen images of these creatures on ancient data-slates in the village, educational materials left after an Ork raid decades ago.
They were said to be warlike fungal beings, delighting in battle, leaving only ruins and corpses in their wake.
And now, they had appeared on the lands of Kronus.
Gaius' heart hammered in his chest, but he forced himself to think calmly.
Orks usually didn't act alone; if there were a few here, then there must be more nearby.
He needed to warn the village, organize a defense, or... flee.
Just as he was about to turn, the sky changed again.
A thunderous roar came from above the clouds, followed by three aircraft tearing through the clouds and diving down.
Their shapes resembled winged raptors, their wings painted with blue and white insignia, Gaius didn't recognize them, but they were clearly not Ork creations.
The aircraft fired a barrage of bright energy beams at the Orks on the ridge, the explosions illuminating the entire western district.
The Orks let out angry roars and began to return fire with their crude firearms.
Gaius stood rooted to the spot, witnessing this sudden battle.
The aircraft's maneuverability was incredible; they made impossible turns, dodging Ork fire while precisely eliminating targets.
One aircraft swept low over Gaius' head, and he clearly saw the symbol on its wing: a white unkown letter "Ω."
One aircraft was hit by Ork fire and plummeted into the distance, trailing thick smoke.
The other two continued their attack, but the number of Orks seemed to be growing, with new green figures constantly pouring from the other side of the ridge.
Gaius knew he had to make a choice.
He took one last look at the battlefield, then turned and sprinted towards the village.
As he ran, his thoughts moved faster than his feet.
Why were Orks on Kronus IV?
Who did those aircraft belong to?
Did the village have any defenses?
Could his mother evacuate safely?
When he finally ran back to the village, panting, he found a dozen people already gathered in the central clearing, nervously discussing the fire and explosions in the western sky.
"Orks!" Gaius shouted as he rushed into the crowd, "Orks have landed in the western district! And... there are some aircraft fighting them!"
The crowd fell silent instantly, then erupted in panicked discussion.
Village Chief Warrick pushed through the people to stand before Gaius; he had once been a member of the Planetary Defense Force, with a crude mechanical prosthetic on his left leg.
"Are you sure they're Orks?" Warrick asked seriously.
Gaius nodded, describing the tall, green-skinned creatures and the footprints they left behind.
Warrick's face turned ashen.
"Everyone listen!" He turned to the villagers, "Immediately pack your essentials, we are retreating to the mining area.
There are old defensive works and underground passages there."
"What about the aircraft?" a young man asked, "Who are those fighting the Orks?"
Warrick shook his head, "Whoever they are, they can't stop a full Ork invasion.
We have to rely on ourselves."
Gaius ran back home and found his mother already struggling to get out of bed, packing her meager belongings.
"I heard the explosions," Lisana said, her voice tight with fear, "It's Orks, isn't it? Just like twenty years ago."
Gaius nodded, quickly stuffing blankets, medicine, and remaining food into a canvas bag.
"Warrick said we're retreating to the mining area.
Can you walk?"
Lisana coughed a few times, trying to stand, but her legs trembled violently.
"You go first, child.
I... I'll follow slowly."
Gaius looked at his mother's frail state, his heart aching.
He knew that in her condition, it was impossible for her to walk the five kilometers to the mining area.
He crouched down, "I'll carry you."
Just as he was about to lift his mother onto his back, a deafening roar swept over the roof.
Gaius looked up and saw a huge aircraft, much larger than the previous ones, flying low over the village, its engines spewing blue flames, leaving a scorching trail behind it.
The aircraft landed in an open space at the edge of the village, kicking up a cloud of dust.
When the dust settled, Gaius saw a dozen huge figures disembark in formation from the aircraft.
They were not Orks.
These warriors wore blue and white power armor, each suit three meters tall, their pauldrons adorned with golden aquilas and the Ω symbol Gaius didn't recognize.
Their helmets featured cold metallic visages, their eyes glowing red.
The leading warrior held a massive Power Sword, its blade shimmering with an energy field.
"By the Emperor..." Chief Warrick murmured, his voice trembling with awe, "They are the Emperor's Angels."
Gaius had heard of these legendary figures, genetically engineered superhuman warriors, the Emperor's Angels.
But he had never imagined seeing them in person, especially on a fringe world like Kronus IV.
The Space Marines dispersed with astonishing efficiency; a few remained by the aircraft on guard, while the rest walked towards the village.
The leading warrior removed his helmet, revealing a face as stern as a marble sculpture, dark hair, sharp blue eyes, and a long scar on his left cheek.
"I am Sergeant Thayne of the Ultramarines Chapter," his voice was deep and powerful, echoing across the square, "This planet is under attack by an Ork Waaagh! All civilians must evacuate immediately."
Warrick stepped forward, though his voice still trembled, "Lord, we were preparing to retreat to the mining area.
But some of the elderly and sick..."
Sergeant Thayne's gaze swept over the gathered villagers, pausing for a moment on Gaius and his mother.
"The Thunderhawk Gunship can transport twenty civilians to the orbital station," he said, "Prioritize the wounded, children, and their caregivers."
Gaius felt a surge of hope.
But just then, a series of explosions erupted in the distance, followed by the distinctive battle cries of Orks, they had arrived faster than Gaius expected.
"They've breached the defenses!" a Space Marine shouted, his voice coming through his helmet's vox-caster with a mechanical quality.
Sergeant Thayne quickly issued orders: "Squad Demius, establish a defensive line! Squad Apollo, escort civilians to the aircraft!"
Then he turned to the villagers, "All who can fight, take up your weapons and assist in defending the village.
Everyone else, proceed immediately to the aircraft!"
Gaius led his mother to a warrior, then turned to Sergeant Thayne: "I'm familiar with the terrain, I can lead the way."
The Sergeant's sharp gaze scrutinized Gaius, as if evaluating his worth. Explosions in the distance grew closer, and time was short.
"Take your weapon and stay by my side," Thayne finally said, "Tell me the Orks' most likely routes of attack."
Gaius grabbed his lasgun and pointed out the path on the west side and the dry riverbed to the east, the two most probable routes for the Orks. Thayne quickly deployed defenses through his helmet's comms, then handed Gaius a small communicator.
"Wear this and stay within my line of sight."
Gaius put on the communicator and immediately heard the concise, professional tactical exchanges of the Space Marines. He followed Thayne, running towards the west side of the village, where swirling dust was already visible, the Orks were closing in.
Gaius' blood nearly froze when the first wave of Orks stormed into the village. They were even larger and uglier than they had appeared from afar, with yellow tusks protruding from their jaws and red eyes burning with pure bloodlust. They wielded crude but deadly choppas and ranged weapons, letting out deafening warcries:
"WAAGH!"
The Space Marines opened fire. Their Bolters roared like thunder, each round capable of tearing an Ork to shreds. Sergeant Thayne stood at the center of the defense line, his power sword cleaving through the limbs of several Orks with every swing. But the Orks were simply too numerous; they charged forward over the bodies of their fallen comrades.
Gaius crouched behind a low wall, aiming his lasgun at an Ork carrying a rocket launcher. He pulled the trigger, the beam struck the Ork's head, and the creature crashed to the ground. Gaius had no time to celebrate, he immediately aimed at the next target.
The battle seemed to last an eternity. Orks surged in wave after wave, and the Space Marines' defensive line began to be forced back. Gaius saw a blue giant's chest plate pierced by an Ork's power klaw, collapsing into a pool of blood. Another warrior immediately filled the gap, incinerating the attacker with a flamer.
Just as the defense line was on the verge of collapsing, new engine roars echoed from the sky. Three Thunderhawk Gunships swooped down, unleashing a torrent of fire on the densest Ork formations. Simultaneously, more Space Marines deployed from the gunships, dropping onto the battlefield to join the fight.
The Orks began to waver, their charge becoming disorganized. With a particularly loud warcry, a figure much larger than the other Orks appeared on the battlefield, it wore crude metal armor, a massive power klaw on its right hand, and a blood-dripping chainsword in its left.
"An Ork Warboss!" Sergeant Thayne roared, "Concentrate fire!"
Bolter rounds and energy beams rained down on the massive green figure, but it seemed unconcerned. Bullets ricocheted off its armor, and energy beams only left scorched marks. It laughed as it charged the front line, batting a Space Marine several meters away with a single swipe of its klaw.
Sergeant Thayne met him, his power sword clashing with the Ork Warboss' chainsword, sending sparks flying. Their strengths seemed evenly matched, but the Ork Warboss' larger size allowed him to thrust his power klaw towards Thayne's abdomen.
In this critical moment, Gaius made a decision he hadn't even anticipated. He leaped out of cover, raised his lasgun, and aimed for the Ork Warboss' eye, its only unprotected spot. The energy beam struck its target precisely, and the Ork Warboss howled in pain, momentarily distracted.
This brief distraction gave Sergeant Thayne his chance. His power sword arced perfectly, severing the Ork Warboss' head. Deprived of its leader, the Orks immediately fell into disarray and began to scatter.
The battle quickly ended. The Space Marines pursued the fleeing Orks, ensuring they wouldn't reorganize. Gaius slumped to the ground, suddenly realizing he was covered in blood, some his own, most of it Ork. He had a deep, bone-visible wound on his arm, but he strangely felt no pain.
Sergeant Thayne walked up to Gaius, looking down at him. "What's your name, child?"
"Gaius, my lord."
"You did very well for a boy who's never seen war, Gaius," Thayne said, a hint of respect in his voice that Gaius had never heard before, "That shot... the timing was impeccable."
Gaius didn't know how to respond to such praise and simply nodded. His vision began to blur, likely due to blood loss.
"Apothecary!" Thayne called. A Space Marine in white armor quickly approached and began to examine Gaius' injuries.
As the medic injected Gaius with some kind of medicine, Sergeant Thayne continued to ask, "How old are you, Gaius?"
"Seventeen, lord." Gaius replied, the effects of the medicine making him feel light-headed.
Thayne nodded thoughtfully, then turned and said something into his communicator. Gaius couldn't make out the content; his consciousness was gradually drifting away.
When Gaius woke again, he found himself in an unfamiliar room, metal walls, a low ceiling, and the air filled with the scent of disinfectant and machine oil. He tried to sit up, and a sharp pain immediately shot through his arm.
"Don't move," a gentle voice said, "Your wound has just been sutured."
Gaius turned to see a person in a white robe standing by the bed, not a Space Marine, but an ordinary human.
"You're finally awake!"
"Where am I?" Gaius asked, his voice hoarse.
"The infirmary of the Ultramarines Chapter flagship, the 'Pride of Macragge,'" the person replied, "You've been unconscious for two days."
Memories flooded back. The Ork attack, the Space Marines, that desperate battle... "Where's my mother? What about the other villagers?"
"Most of the civilians were safely evacuated to the orbital station," the person in white said, "including your mother. But she... her condition isn't good. Late-stage pulmonary fibrosis, compounded by the shock of the evacuation..."
Gaius' heart sank. "Can I see her?"
The person in white hesitated, then nodded: "Sergeant Thayne has already arranged it. In fact... he wants to speak with you first."
Just then, the infirmary door slid open, and Sergeant Thayne entered. He wasn't wearing his armor, only a simple blue uniform, but even so, he was still taller and stronger than anyone Gaius had ever seen.
"You're awake," Thayne said, walking to the bedside, "How do you feel?"
"Fine, lord," Gaius replied, "Thank you for saving me."
Thayne shook his head: "It is we who should thank you, Gaius. If not for your crucial shot, my squad and I might have been annihilated." He paused, "I checked your background. Seventeen years old, no criminal record, excellent grades in local schools, unable to join the Planetary Defense Force selection due to family reasons."
Gaius was surprised by how much Thayne knew about him. "Yes, lord. After my father passed, I had to take care of my mother."
Thayne nodded: "Loyalty and a sense of responsibility, excellent qualities." He looked directly into Gaius' eyes, "Gaius, you've shown extraordinary courage and tactical intuition. In the Ultramarines Chapter, we value such qualities."
Gaius' heart rate quickened; he vaguely guessed what Thayne was about to say.
"The Chapter is recruiting new initiates," Thayne continued, "If you are willing, I can recommend you for selection. This is not an easy decision, the selection process is extremely arduous, gene-modifying surgery is full of risks, and once you become a Space Marine, you will forever bid farewell to a normal life."
Gaius fell silent. Become a Space Marine? It sounded like a fantasy. He was just a poor boy from a frontier agricultural world, not even qualified to join the Planetary Defense Force...
"I... I need to think about it," Gaius finally said, "And my mother..."
"Of course," Thayne said, "I'll give you three days to consider. Now, I'll take you to see your mother."
Following Thayne through the warship's corridors, Gaius was awestruck by everything he saw. Massive metal passages stretched into the distance, banners inscribed with scriptures hung from the ceiling, servo-skulls floated in the air, and Tech-Priests moved through the corridors... All of it exceeded his wildest imagination.
They arrived at a small cabin, where Lisanna lay on a medical bed, looking even weaker than Gaius remembered. When she saw Gaius, a flicker of light appeared in her eyes.
"Gaius!" she called weakly, "They told me you survived, but I've been so worried..."
Gaius knelt by the bed, holding his mother's hand. "I'm fine, Mom. We're both fine."
Lisanna shook her head, her breathing rapid and irregular. "I'm not going to make it, child... The doctor said I won't last the month." She struggled to lift her hand, caressing Gaius' face, "But you... you have a future. The Sergeant told me... he offered you a chance?"
Gaius looked at Thayne, who was standing by the door, then nodded: "He asked if I wanted to become an Angel of the Emperor."
Tears blurred Lisanna's vision, but she forced a trembling smile through the pain. Her hand, frail and cold, reached for her son's armored gauntlet.
"My boy… my son… a Space Marine." Her voice quavered, heavy with pride and sorrow. "If only your father could see you now… he would stand as tall as I do, knowing what you've become. Promise me, Gaius. Promise me you will serve the Emperor with all that you are. Swear it, my child…"
Her words broke into a ragged cough, scarlet flecking her lips as the monitor beside her shrieked its merciless warning.
"Mother!" Gaius' voice cracked.
Medical personnel quickly rushed into the room, and Thayne pulled Gaius aside. They injected Lisanna with some medication, and her breathing gradually stabilized, though her face remained pale.
"She doesn't have much time left," Thayne whispered, "But at least she can pass comfortably, rather than dying by an Ork's blade. That's all I can give her."
Gaius looked at his mother's peaceful face and made his decision. "My lord... if I accept your offer, can I stay with her until the end?"
Thayne nodded solemnly: "Of course. Space Marines also respect family bonds."
Gaius took a deep breath: "Then... I'm willing to try. To protect people like her."
Thayne placed a large hand on Gaius' shoulder: "Welcome to this path, initiate. In three days, we will return to Macragge. Then, your new life will officially begin."
Gaius took one last look at his mother, then turned to the viewport. Outside was the vast star-studded sky, countless stars twinkling with cold light. Somewhere in that sea of stars, Macragge awaited him, a once-ordinary farm boy, about to embark on a journey to become a legend.
Gaius tossed and turned on the hard cot in the medical bay. Servo-skulls hovered silently on the metal ceiling, their red optical lenses sweeping over his bed every few seconds. Three days had passed, and he still couldn't get used to the ship's perpetual artificial light and circulating purified air.
His mother had passed away yesterday.
Before she died, she pressed a heavily worn Imperial Aquila badge into Gaius' hand. It was the only relic his father had left behind, said to be an award he received while serving in the Planetary Defense Force. The edges of the badge were polished bright, and a bullet mark, almost piercing the metal, was visible in its center.
"It will protect you," Lisanna's voice was as light as a wisp of smoke, "just as it protected your father."
Gaius clutched the badge, feeling the sharp edges of the metal dig into his palm. This real pain assured him that he wasn't dreaming, he was truly on a Space Marine warship, truly given the chance to become one of the legendary super-soldiers.
The hiss of the hatch sliding open interrupted Gaius' thoughts. Sergeant Thayne's towering figure filled the entire doorway; he wasn't wearing Power Armor, but even in a simple dark blue uniform, the Space Marine still exuded a suffocating sense of oppression.
"Time to go, recruit." Thayne's voice was like rocks grinding together.
Gaius sprang from the bed, quickly stuffing the Imperial badge into his uniform pocket. "I'm ready, my lord."
Thayne's gaze swept over Gaius' meager belongings, a change of clothes, a pair of worn work boots, and the painkillers provided by the medical bay. "You won't need these on Macragge." He said, "The Chapter will provide everything necessary."
Gaius nodded, pushing the badge his mother gave him deeper into his pocket. This small movement didn't escape Thayne's eyes, but the Sergeant said nothing.
"Follow me," Thayne turned, "we will be making a Warp jump to Macragge in three hours."
Following Thayne through the ship's corridors, Gaius had his first chance to carefully observe the Space Marine's massive warship. Complex bas-reliefs depicting ancient war scenes were carved into the walls; banners inscribed with scriptures, each yellowed like old parchment, hung from the ceiling; and copper Imperial Aquila symbols, polished bright by countless boots, were inlaid into the deck.
They passed a squad of Adeptus Mechanicus members in red robes, who moved like walking machines, their faces mostly replaced by metal, chanting binary prayers. Gaius involuntarily slowed his pace, awestruck by these half-human, half-machine beings.
"Don't stare," Thayne warned in a low voice, "The Adeptus Mechanicus doesn't like to be watched."
After turning a corner, they arrived at a spacious chamber where a dozen Space Marines in blue armor were inspecting their weapons and equipment. Seeing Thayne enter, they immediately stopped their work and rendered the Aquila sign in unison.
"Sergeant," a warrior with a lightning-bolt scar on his face stepped forward to report, "The Thunderhawk Gunship is ready."
Thayne nodded, indicating: "This is Gaius, a recruit candidate. Gaius, these are the brothers of the 7th Tactical Squad."
Gaius opened his mouth, but didn't know how to greet these legendary warriors. He clumsily mimicked the Aquila sign he had just seen, pressing his fist against his left chest.
To his surprise, the Space Marines solemnly returned the same gesture. The warrior with the lightning scar, Gaius noticed his nameplate on his chest armor read "Talos", even gave a slight nod.
"Your performance on Kronus has spread throughout the ship," Talos said, his voice, transmitted through his helmet's vox-caster, carrying a metallic quality, "That shot saved Sergeant Thayne's life."
Gaius felt his ears flush: "I just... did what anyone would do."
"No," Thayne corrected, "Most people would freeze in terror when facing an Ork Warboss. But you not only kept your composure, you also found the optimal attack point." He clapped Gaius on the shoulder, a friendly gesture that almost sent Gaius to his knees, "These are the qualities we look for."
A servo-skull floated over, emitting a mechanical hum. Thayne listened to the binary language only he could understand, then turned to Gaius: "It's time. The Thunderhawk Gunship will take us to the 'Ultramar's Glory', the fleet flagship bound for Macragge."
Gaius followed Thayne through another long corridor, arriving at a massive hatch. The runes on the door turned from red to green after identifying Thayne, and it slowly opened with the hiss of hydraulic systems.
The sight before him made Gaius hold his breath.
It was a colossal hangar capable of accommodating over a dozen aircraft, bustling with dozens of crew members in uniforms of various colors. All sorts of aircraft Gaius had never seen were neatly arranged, with Tech-priests maintaining them with multi-limbed mechanical arms. Most striking were three blue and white Thunderhawk Gunships, their forms like angry birds of prey, their wings laden with weapons.
"Is that... ours?" Gaius pointed at the nearest Thunderhawk, his voice trembling with awe.
Thayne's lips curved slightly: "Yes. Thunderhawk STC-77 model, equipped with twin-linked Heavy Bolters and Hellstrike Missiles. It can deploy a tactical squad to any battlefield in one minute."
As they walked towards the gunship, Gaius noticed a row of small red markings painted on its side.
"Kill marks," Thayne explained, noticing Gaius' gaze, "Each mark represents a confirmed enemy aircraft shot down."
Gaius counted twenty-seven.
As he ascended the Thunderhawk's boarding ramp, Gaius nearly tripped on the height of the steps, they were clearly designed for a Space Marine's physique. The interior of the cabin looked narrower than its exterior, with six reinforced seats lining both sides, and weapon racks and supply crates in the middle.
"Sit there," Thayne pointed to a seat noticeably smaller than the others, "That's for servitors and mortal officers."
No sooner had Gaius fastened his seatbelt than a piercing alarm blared through the hangar. Red warning lights began to spin, and crew members quickly evacuated to safe areas.
"Warp jump preparation," the pilot's voice came through the cabin's loudspeaker, "All personnel to stations."
Thayne sat opposite Gaius, checking information on a data-slate. He seemed to notice Gaius' unease: "First time in space?"
"Yes, lord." Gaius admitted honestly, "I've never even left Kronus."
"Then you're in luck," Thayne joked, a rare occurrence for him, "Your first journey is aboard a Space Marine Thunderhawk." He handed over a metal container, "Drink this. A Warp jump is not kind to an unaugmented human body."
The container held a thick blue liquid that smelled like a mixture of metal and herbs. Gaius drank it all, immediately feeling a warm current spread from his throat throughout his body, even his fingertips began to tingle.
The roar of the engines grew louder, and the Thunderhawk slowly ascended. Through the side observation window, Gaius saw the hangar doors opening, revealing the blackness of space outside and the distant twinkling stars.
Then, the world twisted.
The moment the Thunderhawk burst from the hangar, Gaius saw the space around the warship begin to... undulate. Like a disturbed reflection on water, the stars stretched into colored lines, and some indescribable hue spread through the vacuum. His stomach churned, and black spots appeared at the edges of his vision.
"Don't look out the window," Thayne commanded, "Focus on your breathing."
Gaius lowered his head, staring at his trembling hands. The Imperial badge in his pocket seemed to grow unusually heavy, as if reminding him of his insignificance.
The flight lasted about an hour, Gaius couldn't be sure, as there was no timer in the cabin. When the Thunderhawk began its descent, Thayne gestured for him to look out the window.
"Ultramar's Glory," the Sergeant's voice carried a clear note of pride, "Sister ship to the Pride of Macragge, one of the most powerful warships of the Ultramarines Chapter."
Gaius gasped. Outside the window was a ship so unimaginably vast, it hung in space like a metal mountain range. Its hull, densely packed with turrets and defensive platforms, made it look like a fully armed hedgehog, and the massive ramming prow was carved with scriptures and victory records.
"How... big is it?" Gaius whispered.
"Twenty-eight kilometers long, six kilometers at its widest point," Thayne replied, "Carrying three Space Marine companies, fifty thousand crew members, and enough weaponry to destroy a star system."
The Thunderhawk glided into Ultramar's Glory's hangar, this landing much smoother than the takeoff. As the hatch opened, a squad of Space Marines in dark blue Power Armor was already lined up, waiting. Their shoulder pads were adorned with golden Omega symbols, and their chest plates were inscribed with complex tactical markings.
"Welcome aboard, Sergeant Thayne," the leading Space Marine saluted, "The Chapter Master wishes to hear your report immediately."
Thayne nodded, then turned to Gaius: "This is Gaius, a new recruit candidate from Kronus IV. Arrange for him to be housed in the recruit quarters and prepare for genetic testing."
Then, to Gaius' surprise, Thayne performed a standard Aquila salute to him: "We will meet again on Macragge in three days, Gaius. May the Emperor guide your path."
Before Gaius could respond, Thayne had already strode away, disappearing into the intricate passages of the hangar.
"Follow me, recruit." A Space Marine without a helmet stepped out from the remaining group. His face looked surprisingly young, with blonde hair and blue eyes, almost handsome if not for his superhuman physique and the metal interface implanted on his forehead.
"I am Acolyte Cassius," he introduced himself, his voice softer than Gaius expected, "I am responsible for guiding new recruits to adapt to Chapter life."
Following Cassius through the corridors of Ultramar's Glory, Gaius noticed that the decoration here was even more opulent than the Macragge's Pride. Display cases were placed at every turn, exhibiting ancient weapons, medals, and trophies; huge banners depicting the glorious history of the Ultramarines Chapter hung from the ceiling.
"Are these... all real?" Gaius couldn't help but ask, pointing at a display case. Inside was a rusty Power Sword, its label reading "Macragge Rebellion, M31.002."
Cassius smiled: "Every artifact in the Chapter's collection is over a thousand years old. That sword belonged to Primarch Roboute Guilliman himself and was used when he reclaimed Macragge."
Gaius' eyes widened. A Primarch—one of the nine (as a mortal, he only knew nine) super-soldiers created by the Emperor, a relic of a Primarch was right before his eyes!
"The Chapter's history is our bloodline," Cassius continued, leading Gaius through a door adorned with ivory carvings, "As a recruit, you must first learn this history before you are worthy to become a part of it."
Beyond the door was a spacious dormitory area, lined with dozens of simple bunks. About twenty young men, around Gaius' age, were either tidying their luggage or reading data-slates. They wore uniform grey training suits and had very short hair.
"Recruit candidates," Cassius announced, "This is Gaius, from Kronus IV. He will be joining your ranks."
All the young men immediately stopped what they were doing and stood at attention. Gaius noticed that they were of various ethnicities, there were pale-skinned northerners, dark-skinned desert dwellers, and a few tall, thin individuals with distinct Hive City features.
"Your bunk is over there," Cassius pointed to an empty spot in the corner, "Genetic testing will be in an hour; until then, you can rest or familiarize yourself with the environment." With that, the Acolyte left the dormitory, leaving Gaius with the group of silent recruits.
The awkward silence lasted for a few seconds, then a red-haired youth stepped forward: "I'm Dorian, from New Catonia." He extended his hand, "Welcome to the journey to hell."
Gaius shook the hand, finding it covered in calluses and scars. "Journey to hell?"
Dorian grinned, revealing two canine teeth: "You'll know once training starts. But since Sergeant Thayne personally recommended you, I suppose you already have some skills."
"You know Sergeant Thayne?" Gaius asked in surprise.
"Who doesn't?" a tall, dark-skinned girl interjected, "'Iron Thayne' of the 7th Company, a legend who single-handedly held the fortress gate for six hours during the Cadia campaign." She extended her hand, "I'm Elisa, from the underhive of Necromunda."
Gaius found himself bombarded with questions for the next half-hour, Which world was he from? How did he meet a Space Marine? Had he really killed an Ork? The recruits seemed both curious and skeptical, especially when Gaius described his experience of shooting an Ork Warboss in the eye with a lasgun.
"Impossible," a blonde youth, who introduced himself as a descendant of a noble world, sneered, "A mortal cannot accurately hit a moving target at that distance, especially when facing an Ork Warboss."
Gaius didn't argue, he just pulled out the Imperial Aquila from his pocket: "This was left by my father. He earned it serving in the Planetary Defense Force."
The Aquila gleamed with an ancient luster under the dormitory lights, the bullet mark clearly visible. The recruits passed it around, and the atmosphere became solemn. In the Warhammer 40,000 universe, battlefield relics were the most powerful language.
"I believe you," Dorian finally said, returning the Aquila to Gaius, "But genetic testing won't lie. Tomorrow we'll know who is qualified to continue."
"What exactly is genetic testing?" Gaius asked, carefully putting the Aquila back in his pocket.
His answer came from the sound of the dormitory door opening again. Cassius had returned, accompanied by two medical officers in white robes.
"Recruits, line up," the Acolyte commanded, "Genetic testing begins."
They were led to a spacious laboratory filled with instruments Gaius had never seen before. In the center of the room was a huge metal cylinder connected to dozens of cables and tubes; shelves along the walls were lined with glass jars, in which various organs and tissues floated.
"Remove your upper garments and step forward one by one," a medical officer instructed, "The testing process will be slightly uncomfortable, but will not cause permanent damage."
Gaius stood in the middle of the line, watching the recruits ahead of him approach the metal cylinder one by one. The medical officer would insert a needle into their arm, draw a blood sample, and then have them place their hand on a metal plate on the side of the cylinder.
Most recruits completed the test with only a slight tremor, but when it was the noble youth's turn, the situation changed abruptly. As soon as his hand touched the metal plate, the cylinder emitted a piercing alarm, flashing red.
"Genetic incompatibility," the medical officer announced indifferently, "Eliminated."
The noble youth's face turned ashen: "Impossible! My family has a pure genetic lineage! The machine must be wrong!"
The medical officer ignored his protests, motioning for the guards to escort him out of the laboratory. Gaius noticed the tears in the youth's eyes as he was led away.
Finally, it was Gaius' turn. He stepped forward, feeling the sting of the needle piercing his arm. Blood was drawn into a transparent container, and mechanical tendrils immediately reached out to analyze it.
"Place your hand here," the medical officer pointed to the metal plate, "Hold it for thirty seconds."
Gaius did as he was told. The metal plate was surprisingly cold, almost gripping his palm like a living thing. Nothing happened at first, then a subtle current shot up his arm to his shoulder, bringing a tingling sensation.
The cylinder emitted a soft blue light.
"Genetic compatibility 92%," the medical officer announced, with a hint of surprise in his voice, "Excellent level."
Cassius stepped forward, carefully examining the readings on the data-slate: "Sergeant Thayne truly didn't misjudge him." He nodded to Gaius, "You will make an excellent Ultramarines, Gaius."
The testing continued until all recruits had completed the test. In the end, seven out of twenty-three were eliminated, including the noble youth who had questioned Gaius' story. The remaining ones were led back to the dormitory and told that formal training would begin the next day.
That night, Gaius lay on the unfamiliar bunk, staring at the slowly rotating servo-skull on the ceiling. He thought of his mother's dying smile, of Sergeant Thayne saying, "We will meet again on Macragge," and of the blue light emitted by the metal cylinder. The Imperial Aquila in his pocket pressed against his thigh, like a silent promise.
Outside the window, if that enormous observation window could be called a window, the stars slowly moved, and Ultramar's Glory was heading towards Macragge. Gaius didn't know what future awaited him, but at this moment, on this giant vessel filled with legendary warriors, he felt for the first time that he might truly become something greater than a farm boy.
He clutched the Aquila, closed his eyes, and dreamed of blue giants standing among the stars.
The alarm tore through Gaius' dream.
He sprang from his bed, sweat soaking his thin, grey training uniform.
The other recruits in the dormitory also awoke, confused murmurs and the creaking of beds filling the darkness.
"All recruits!" a thunderous voice boomed from outside the dormitory, "Form up on the training ground in two minutes! Latecomers will be punished!"
Gaius' heart pounded in his chest.
He fumbled for his boots, then stumbled out the door.
Blinding red lights flickered in the corridor, making the metal walls appear drenched in blood.
Other recruits poured out, some still fastening their belts, others with one foot bare.
"A surprise attack on the first day?" Dorian's voice came from behind him; at least he was somewhat properly dressed, "These instructors really have no sense of humor."
Gaius didn't answer; his lungs felt like they were on fire.
They had spent three days in Warp travel aboard Ultramar's Glory, and today was the first day of training after arriving on Macragge, if this pre-dawn torment could be called "the first day."
The training ground was a vast, circular plaza with a rough sandstone floor, surrounded by high walls carved with battle scenes.
As Gaius and the other fifteen recruits gasped for breath, a tall figure emerged from the shadows.
Sergeant Thayne.
He was wearing a full training suit today, which, though not as bulky as Power Armor, still made him twice the size of an ordinary man.
The moonlight illuminated the scar on his left cheek, making him appear particularly menacing.
"One hundred and ninety-seven seconds," Thayne's voice rasped like sandpaper, "Forty-three seconds more than the slowest recruit company record.
You have disappointed me."
Gaius swallowed.
He had thought Thayne would look at him differently after the gene-testing, but the Sergeant's gaze swept over the ranks without lingering on him for a second.
"I am your chief instructor," Thayne began to pace, his metal boot soles leaving deep imprints on the sandstone, "For the next six months, I will forge you from weak, useless maggots into barely competent warriors.
Some of you will fail.
Some of you may live. Most of you will not.
A very few, if any, might become Ultramarines."
He stopped directly in front of the ranks, suddenly raising his voice: "Why are you here?"
The recruits exchanged glances.
A tall boy mustered his courage: "To become Space Marines, sir!"
"Wrong!" Thayne's bellow shook the hall, driving men back a step."You are not here for yourselves — you are here because the Emperor needs weapons!Because Humanity needs shields!Because the most merciless foes in the galaxy demand Executioners!"
He abruptly drew the combat knife from his waist, its blade glinting coldly in the moonlight, "Personal glory?
Strength?
Immortality?
Forget these childish fantasies!
From today onwards, you have only one identity, the Emperor's instrument of death!"
Gaius felt his knees weaken, but he forced himself to stand straighter.
Every word from Thayne struck his mind like a hammer.
"Today's basic tests will determine your training groups," Thayne sheathed his dagger, "Three components: physical endurance, reaction, and willpower.
Begin!"
The next six hours became the longest nightmare of Gaius' life.
The physical endurance test included five hundred push-ups, three hundred pull-ups, and a fifty-kilometer full-speed run.
By the two hundredth push-up, Gaius' arms were trembling like leaves in the wind; after completing the pull-ups, his palms were raw and bleeding; by the thirty-kilometer mark of the run, black spots began to appear at the edges of his vision.
Two recruits collapsed during the run and were dragged away by medical Servitor-skulls.
Each time Gaius passed them, he could hear the Servitor-skull's mechanical declaration: "Gene-seed retrieval protocol initiated."
The reaction test took place in a dark room full of laser traps.
Recruits had to navigate a hundred-meter-long obstacle course while dodging randomly firing low-power lasers.
Gaius' thigh was grazed three times, each burning pain making him clench his jaw.
The willpower test was the most bizarre.
They were strapped into metal chairs, and a Tech-Priest wearing a strange helmet attached electrodes to their temples.
Then, pain surged like a tsunami, not physical, but simulated pain directly affecting the nervous system.
Gaius saw visions of Kronus IV being burned by Orks, heard his mother's dying screams, and felt the hallucination of being flayed alive.
When the test finally ended, Gaius collapsed at the edge of the training ground, his vomit and sweat mingled together.
Dorian lay beside him, his face ashen.
Elisa was one of the few recruits still able to stand, but her eyes had lost their focus.
Sergeant Thayne looked at the collapsed youths, without a trace of pity on his face: "Now you understand your weakness.
Remember this feeling, because tomorrow will be worse."
When the sun rose, the recruits were allowed to return to their dormitories for two hours of rest.
Gaius practically crawled back to his bunk, lacking even the strength to clean the grime from his body.
"Do they... want to kill us?" Dorian's weak voice came from the bunk below.
Gaius wanted to answer, but his tongue felt like a lead weight.
In the last moment before falling into unconsciousness, he felt the Imperial Aquila in his pocket.
The cold touch of the metal gave him a sliver of comfort.
Two hours later, the alarm sounded again.
These days continued for four weeks.
The daily training content was different, but the level of pain increased with each passing day.
They learned how to maintain combat effectiveness in toxic gas; how to continue firing with full-body burns; how to crawl to safety after breaking all four limbs.
Medical technology allowed the recruits to recover as new the next day, but the pain in their memories could not be erased.
On the morning of the fifth week, Gaius found himself able to complete a hundred push-ups in one minute without breaking a sweat.
His body was adapting to the rigorous training at an astonishing rate, his muscles becoming denser, and his reaction speed nearly doubling.
The other surviving recruits also showed similar progress, of the original sixteen, twelve remained.
"Tactical training begins today," Thayne announced, several Space Marines Gaius hadn't seen before standing behind him, "You will be divided into four groups, three per group.
Each group will be guided by an instructor in basic tactics."
Gaius, Dorian, and Elisa were assigned to one group.
Their instructor was Sergeant Talos, Gaius recognized him as the warrior with the lightning scar from the Macragge's Pride.
Talos was slightly gentler than Thayne; at least he wouldn't punish recruits with a twenty-kilometer run for a minor mistake.
"The core of tactics is pattern recognition," he taught the three, "Enemy behavior, no matter how random, will form predictable patterns.
Find it, exploit it."
They spent three days studying combat footage of various xenos and human rebels, learning to identify the behavioral characteristics of different enemies.
Gaius excelled in this, he could quickly identify weak points in Ork charges and predict the attack routes of Eldar warriors.
"You have the eyes of a warrior," Talos commented at the end of the seventh day, "But remember, theoretical knowledge is only valuable in actual combat."
The next day, they got the chance to test their theories.
The training ground was transformed into a complex urban ruin scenario, and four recruit teams were deployed within it for simulated combat.
Gaius' team was pitted against another led by recruits from a noble world.
"Remember the Ork attack pattern," Gaius whispered to his teammates as they hid behind a broken wall, observing the "enemy's" movements, "They always try to outflank."
Sure enough, the opposing team soon split into two, attempting to pincer them from both sides.
Gaius was prepared; they set up simple traps on their retreat route, then concentrated fire to eliminate the first detachment to arrive, before turning to deal with the other.
Victory came easier than expected.
Sergeant Talos looked pleased, but Thayne merely nodded coldly: "Good tactics, but a real enemy won't be so foolish."
In the following weeks, the training difficulty continuously increased.
They began fighting in zero-gravity environments, learning to use jump packs for aerial maneuvers; they were dropped into Macragge's wilderness with only a dagger to survive for two weeks; they had to navigate in complete darkness using only sound and touch.
Every day, recruits dropped out or were injured.
By the end of the eighth week, only nine of the original sixteen remained.
On the first day of the ninth week, Thayne gave them an unexpected surprise.
"No training today," the Sergeant said, a rare smile playing on his lips, "Today is visitation day."
He led the exhausted recruits through the numerous corridors of the Macragge's Glory Fortress, arriving before a massive archway.
The arch was adorned with exquisite bas-reliefs depicting the glorious history of the Ultramarines Chapter, from the Great Crusade to the Horus Heresy, from the Defense of Macragge to the recent Tyranid Wars.
"This is the Hall of Sanctuaries," Sergeant Thayne's voice grew solemn, "where the Chapter's most precious relics and memories are kept. Only Ultramarines and candidate recruits are permitted entry."
The heavy doors slid open silently, and a scent of incense mixed with ancient metal wafted out. Gaius held his breath.
The hall was even grander than he had imagined. Banners of past Chapter Masters hung from the towering vaulted ceiling; the side walls were inlaid with golden plaques bearing thousands of names, all Ultramarines who had fallen in service; at the far end of the hall, a massive glass display case enclosed a set of scarred Power Armor, suspended within.
"That is the Primarch Roboute Guilliman's spare armor," Sergeant Thayne said softly, "He wore this armor during the Great Heresy, slaying the traitor Lucius in the Battle of Calth."
Gaius involuntarily walked towards the display case. Every scar on the armor told a story of epic battle, every patch represented a narrow escape from death. He could feel a certain power emanating from this ancient relic, making his blood race.
"The history of the Chapter is your bloodline," Sergeant Thayne continued, leading them past rows of display cases, "Every Ultramarines is a link in this glorious chain. Today, you will learn the beginning of this chain."
For the next few hours, the recruits were immersed in the Chapter's history. They saw weapons from the Great Crusade, battle standards from the Horus Heresy, and trophies from wars against Orks. Each exhibit was accompanied by holographic records, detailing the relevant campaigns and heroic deeds.
Gaius was deeply drawn to a record about the Defense of Macragge. In the footage, vastly outnumbered Ultramarines held their ground against a tide of Tyranids. At the most critical moment, a Sergeant named Agman single-handedly held a bridge for nearly an hour, buying time for civilian evacuation.
"What happened to him later?" Gaius asked.
Sergeant Thayne's voice came from behind him: "He sacrificed himself, but saved five hundred thousand civilians. In the Ultramarines Chapter, this is not a tragedy, but the highest honor."
Before the tour ended, Sergeant Thayne led them to a small room in the deepest part of the hall. There were no elaborate displays here, only simple inscriptions on the walls and a stone altar in the center. On the altar lay a massive metal book, its cover inlaid with the Imperial Aquila.
"This is the Codex Astartes," Sergeant Thayne's voice was almost reverent, "Written personally by Primarch Guilliman, it contains all the knowledge, tactics, and traditions of the Ultramarines. Every new member must swear to abide by its teachings."
Gaius gazed at the sacred tome, suddenly understanding Sergeant Thayne's purpose in bringing them here. This was not just a tour, but an initiation, to make them understand how profound and sacred the traditions they were joining truly were.
As he left the Hall of Sanctuaries, Gaius felt a subtle change within himself. Training was no longer just about survival; it had a deeper meaning. He touched the Imperial Aquila in his pocket, imagining for the first time what it would be like to wear blue and white Power Armor, standing among those heroes.
However, Sergeant Thayne quickly pulled them back to reality.
"Tomorrow begins Phase Two training," the Sergeant announced as they walked through the corridor back to the dormitory, "The final selection before gene-modification. Only six of you will pass."
That night, the dormitory was unusually quiet. All nine recruits knew that tomorrow's test would determine who would proceed to the next stage and who would be eliminated. Gaius lay on his bed, recalling everything he had seen and heard in the Hall of Sanctuaries. Dorian tossed and turned in the bunk below, while Elisa quietly wiped a training dagger.
"What do you think they'll test?" Dorian finally broke the silence.
Gaius shook his head: "Whatever it is, it'll definitely be harder than anything we've experienced."
"I heard," Elisa whispered, "that the final selection sometimes... results in fatalities. The Chapter only wants the best gene-seed carriers."
Gaius remembered the recruits who had fainted during training and been carried away, and the cold words of the Servo-Skull: "Gene-seed recovery protocol initiated." He couldn't help but shiver.
Before dawn the next day, the recruits were taken to a base in Macragge's highest mountains. The biting cold wind made it hard for them to open their eyes, and the thin air made every breath a struggle.
Sergeant Thayne and several instructors were already waiting there, surrounded by various equipment.
"Today's test is easy," Sergeant Thayne's voice was clear even in the cold wind, "Carry 100 kilograms, traverse 100 kilometers of mountainous terrain, and reach the finish line within a day. The first six to finish will continue training."
Gaius looked at the backpack assigned to each person, it was filled with metal blocks, indeed weighing 100 kilograms. Carrying such a weight in such harsh conditions seemed an almost impossible task.
"The route has been uploaded to your navigators," Sergeant Talos added, "There are five checkpoints, which must be passed in order. Giving up or deviating from the route means automatic elimination. If you are caught cheating you will be executed!"
Without further explanation, the test began.
The first ten kilometers went smoothly enough. Gaius maintained a steady pace, trying to conserve energy. Dorian and Elisa followed nearby, forming a taciturn group of three. The other recruits were scattered around, each focused on their own rhythm.
At thirty kilometers, conditions began to worsen. The altitude increased, and the temperature dropped below freezing. Gaius' fingers and toes lost sensation, and his lips cracked and bled. The backpack straps bit deep into his flesh, every step felt like torture.
At fifty kilometers, the first recruit collapsed. He was a sturdy boy from an agri-world, who had performed excellently until then. He suddenly fell to his knees, retching uncontrollably, then pitched forward, never to rise again. A medical Servo-Skull quickly carried him away, leaving a pool of blood on the snow.
At seventy five kilometers, Gaius' group reached the first checkpoint. It was a crude outpost, where an instructor merely scanned the data from their wristbands, then coldly waved them on.
At eighty kilometers, hell truly began. Gaius' thigh muscles started to cramp, and his vision blurred from lack of oxygen. Dorian's face turned pale, and Elisa muttered curses under her breath. They no longer spoke, conserving every ounce of energy for moving forward.
At ninety-five kilometers, Gaius thought about giving up for the first time. His lungs felt like they were on fire, his heart pounded wildly in his chest. The weight of the backpack seemed to double, constantly pressing him to the ground.
Just then, he touched the Imperial Aquila in his pocket.
His mother's dying face appeared before his eyes. "It will protect you," she had said. Gaius remembered his ordinary life on Kronus IV, the fear on the day of the Ork invasion, and his mother's dying wish on her sickbed.
An inexplicable strength surged through his limbs. Gaius gritted his teeth, forcing himself to continue. One step, then another. Dorian and Elisa followed, the three of them supporting each other as they climbed a steep slope.
The last five kilometers were the longest torment. Gaius could no longer feel his body, only mechanically moving his legs. His consciousness began to drift, sometimes back to the farms of Kronus, sometimes standing before the Primarch's armor in the Hall of Sanctuaries.
Then, miraculously, the finish line appeared in sight. Sergeant Thayne and several instructors stood there, beside a large timer.
Gaius, Dorian, and Elisa almost simultaneously crossed the finish line. They collapsed onto the snow, gasping for breath, without even the strength to cheer.
The timer showed: 18 hours and 42 minutes.
They were the third, fourth, and fifth to arrive. Three other recruits followed closely, completing the challenge in the final few minutes. The remaining three did not appear—Gaius later learned that two had dropped out midway, and one had died of cardiac arrest at forty-eight kilometers.
Sergeant Thayne looked at the six survivors and nodded: "Welcome to the gene-modification phase, recruits."
Gaius lay on a medical bay bed, feeling the cold sensation of nutrient fluid flowing into his veins. Every inch of his body ached, but his heart was filled with an unprecedented sense of accomplishment. Outside the window, Macragge's moon hung high in the sky, cold and beautiful.
The Imperial Aquila in his pocket rested against his thigh, like his mother's silent blessing. Gaius knew that the real test had only just begun. Tomorrow, he would take his first step towards becoming a Space Marine—his first gene-seed implantation surgery.
He closed his eyes, dreaming of himself in blue and white Power Armor, swearing an oath before the holy icon of Primarch Guilliman. This time, in his dream, he felt no fear, only unwavering determination.