Warhammer 40k : Starting as a Primarch

The Dukel Expeditionary Corps achieved resounding victories across many worlds within the Southern Reese Star System. This triumphant news was spread across the Imperium of Man via astropathic relays, igniting hope in countless hearts darkened by despair.

The resurrection of a great Primarch, his expedition liberating the Imperium from its darkness, was a clarion call for salvation. Despair, once shattered, no longer held sway.

The sparks of hope would one day ignite a galaxy-wide conflagration, a force to shake both xenos and gods alike.

Far from the Southern Reese System, on the edges of Ultramar, Roboute Guilliman—engaged in unrelenting battles against the forces of Chaos—received word of these victories through the astropaths.

His weary spirit, strained by days of constant warfare, felt a renewed vigor. Memories of the past stirred within him, taking him back ten thousand years.

"My second brother always had a way of inspiring those lost to despair," Guilliman thought, a faint smile softening his normally stern demeanor.

Across the galaxy, the Imperium was under siege. Heretics and xenos ravaged countless worlds, each bringing its own brand of ruin. The greenskins slaughtered, the Tyranids devoured, the Necrons harvested, and the Tau pillaged.

Billions of cultists and psykers driven by Chaos sowed rebellion, shaking the foundations of human civilization. None could remain untouched by this galactic war, and even Guilliman, a demigod among men, felt the shadow of despair creeping in.

But in this darkest hour, the news from the Nanlis Galaxy arrived like a beacon of hope, pulling countless souls back from the brink of hopelessness.

Dukel, the source of this hope, did not rest long after the victory. On Nanlis, he spent only a few days updating technologies via the computing power of the Mind Network and overseeing the recovery of the Adeptus Astartes and Battle Sisters in his command.

Soon, it was time to return to the battlefield.

The think tanks of the Expeditionary Corps had insisted on surrounding Dukel with a large contingent of guards. Though the Primarch himself was the supreme commander, he had no authority to overrule this collective decision, a result of his intentional decentralization of power.

Dukel, uninterested in micromanaging, preferred to leave mortal affairs to mortals. He saw no value in spending his time on tedious administrative matters. "I am a Primarch, not a glorified bureaucrat," he mused.

Instead, Dukel focused on research, utilizing the Mind Network to develop technologies that could elevate humanity's strength. For routine matters, he delegated authority to Efilar, the Living Saint, who monitored affairs through the Mind Network and only reported critical issues to him.

Dukel's first passion, however, was battle. He relished the visceral thrill of combat, the clash of blade against blade, the test of strength on the battlefield. Concerns that this might draw the attention of Khorne, the Blood God, amused him. "The one who loses the fight is the follower of Khorne," he joked to himself.

As a Primarch, Dukel saw himself as a symbol of hope for the Expeditionary Corps, a warrior leading by example rather than a bureaucrat mired in government affairs.

The organization of the Second Legion, however, developed some peculiarities due to his hands-off approach. For reasons unknown, every squad within the Legion's reserves consisted of 22 members, and Dukel's personal guard comprised 222 such squads—a force of nearly 5,000 warriors.

These warriors, selected through the Mind Network, were not ordinary Space Marines or Battle Sisters. They wielded cutting-edge power armor and weapons and were enhanced with advanced biotechnologies such as the Life Magnetic Field: 50,000 Horsepower and Mind Training: Fetal Breathing Level Three.

Despite their elite capabilities, Dukel found their fixation on the number "2" baffling. "Do I look like an idiot? Or is this because I'm the Second Primarch?" he thought, suppressing a chuckle. Nevertheless, he allowed it, knowing the symbolic power of numbers within the warp.

While Dukel pondered this, Efilar interrupted his thoughts with urgent news.

"Your Highness Dukel, an unknown plague has been discovered on Nalai. Seventeen HeartNet teams rescued a Star Realm Army unit while securing virus samples. They were ambushed by a Nurgle Daemon force during evacuation and are requesting support."

"A Nurgle force?" Dukel's expression darkened, though inwardly he felt a surge of anticipation.

"How long until we can deploy?" he asked.

"One hour, Your Highness," Efilar replied.

"Good. Issue a rescue order to nearby units and prepare to depart for Nalai. As long as they hold for an hour, we'll bring them relief."

"Your will be done," Efilar said, departing to make the arrangements.

An hour later, the Inner Fire was traversing the Immaterium. The expedition fleet, shielded by Dukel's psychic strength, weathered the raging warp storms with ease. On the bridge, Dukel gazed into the churning madness of the warp, his mind reaching out across the Soul Sea.

Through the layers of psychic mists, his sight was blocked only by the towering domains of the Chaos Gods. Their power was undeniable, but Dukel envisioned a future where he would carve out his own domain in the warp.

In many ways, the warp was his true home. His essence, ever tethered to its depths, allowed him to guide lost starships through prayer and psychic connection.

As the Mind Network grew and more people offered him their faith, Dukel could feel the embryonic beginnings of his own warp domain taking shape. It expanded imperceptibly, but he was confident that it would soon flourish into a formidable realm.

For now, however, his focus was on Nalai. There, the forces of Nurgle awaited their reckoning.