Warhammer: Dawn of Annihilation

They would cleanse every planet in Ultramar, then expand their efforts to other star systems within the empire—saving humanity from its downward spiral and preventing the Imperium's inevitable demise.

Countless war machines roared to life amid the prayers of the Mechanicus priests, trailing massive plumes of flame as they departed the starport and ascended into the void.

One by one, the ships' Gellar force fields powered up, enshrouding their colossal hulls in a faint, shimmering glow.

The Gellar field was one of humanity's most crucial technologies for traversing the Warp.

It protected Imperial vessels from the corrosive nature of the Warp and the inhuman entities lurking beneath its tides, shielding the ships from their relentless assaults.

Guilliman's awakening, coupled with his audacious declaration of war, had already drawn the attention of the dark gods.

For a Primarch to openly challenge them was an unforgivable offense.

Their response was swift and merciless.

The Warp boiled with divine fury, churning the sea of ether into a violent tempest.

Waves of raw aether energy surged and roared, battering against the Imperial fleet with relentless force.

Arrogance twisted into spiraling whirlpools. Fury and desire merged into a frenzied storm. Despair shaped itself into treacherous straits, where countless daemons lurked like predators on jagged cliffs, waiting to strike at the first sign of weakness.

Inside the vessels, the bound Navigators floated in nutrient tanks, their heads and arms connected to intricate machinery by a web of cables.

Their third eyes, gifted—or cursed—with the ability to perceive the Warp, strained to chart a safe course through the turbulent currents.

Navigators were an ancient lineage, tracing their origins back tens of thousands of years to humanity's first forays into the stars.

During those early golden ages, a fraction of humanity exposed to the Warp underwent subtle genetic mutations.

This granted them an extraordinary sensitivity to the tides of the Warp, allowing them to serve as indispensable guides for Imperial ships.

Through generations of enhancement and cybernetic augmentation, these individuals became the Navigators of today—marked by their signature third eye, a biological or technological implant that allowed them to perceive etheric energy flows and, most critically, locate the beacon of the Astronomican.

The Astronomican, an essential lighthouse for Imperial navigation, was created by the Emperor himself during the Great Crusade and remains under the stewardship of the Adeptus Astronomica.

Despite his experience, Guilliman could not suppress his apprehension in the face of the raging Warp storms.

The Astronomican's light was faint—barely visible. The Navigators were forced to expend immense effort to discern the correct course.

Imperial ships could no longer remain in the Warp for extended periods as they once had; they now had to make frequent exits, slipping back into realspace to avoid catastrophic failure.

Fortunately, the diligent maintenance of the Mechanicus priests ensured that every ship's Gellar field remained fully operational.

Without it, the fleet would be nothing more than prey, helpless before the insatiable daemons of the Warp.

"It seems we must find a way to calm the Warp storms," Guilliman murmured, his brows furrowed as he studied the data slate in his hands. The situation was worse than he had anticipated.

The options were clear: either find a means to quell the storms or strengthen the fleet's resistance against them.

Without achieving one of these goals, the very idea of waging war against the dark gods would be laughable.

Daemons and traitors thrived within the storms, unburdened by their chaos. Meanwhile, the Imperium struggled, and Guilliman understood all too well the uphill battle they faced.

He pondered potential sources of forgotten technology or ancient relics that might aid their perilous journey and ensure the fleet reached its destination unscathed.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. A young man clad in long robes entered the Primarch's private chamber, his blind, milky-white eyes gazing straight ahead.

"My lord."

Despite his blindness, the young man effortlessly located Guilliman's position and offered a respectful bow.

"Luo Shan, what is it?"

Guilliman set aside his thoughts and looked up at the astropath, his expression calm. He was unbothered by the man's pale, unseeing eyes.

Astropaths, after all, were universally blind. Their physical sight was lost, but in its place, they possessed the mind's eye—a gift that allowed them to perceive the immaterial realm beyond mortal vision.

Faster-than-light travel depended on the Warp, and so too did interstellar communication.

The vastness of space rendered conventional communication methods hopelessly slow. Messages could take decades—centuries, even—to traverse the void between stars.

The Imperium relied on astropaths to transmit thoughts across unimaginable distances through the Warp.

Across the galaxy, astropathic relay stations—known as Astropathic Choirs—collected and relayed these psychic messages to their destinations.

Astropaths did not transmit messages in words but in thoughts and dreams, shaping them into psychic pulses that could be perceived across the galaxy by their counterparts.

Receiving astropaths would then unravel the dream-like messages, interpreting them into meaningful information.

To enhance their abilities and ensure transmissions remained untampered within the perilous Warp, groups of astropaths often formed choirs, amplifying their psychic strength to safeguard Imperial communications.

All astropaths underwent a perilous ritual known as the Soul Binding, conducted within the Imperial Palace itself.

Every so often, the Adeptus Astra Telepathica selected psykers from across the galaxy and brought them before the Emperor.

Through His overwhelming psychic power, their minds were shielded from corruption and madness, but at a terrible cost.

Many emerged blind, deaf, or utterly broken in body and mind. Luo Shan was one of the fortunate ones—he had lost only his sight.

"My lord, we have received a distress signal from the Sara system," Luo Shan reported. "Chaos forces continue to rampage there. The defenders report the presence of Plague Marines."

"Plague Marines?"

Guilliman frowned but quickly composed himself, issuing orders without hesitation.

"Have the fleet proceed to the industrial world of Konor. I will take a strike force to deal with this personally."

"My lord, is that wise?" Luo Shan asked hesitantly. "Perhaps you should delegate this to the company commanders instead."

"No place is truly safe, Luo Shan. Facing danger is my duty as a Primarch. The Imperium needs victories—no matter how small—to boost morale. Even a minor success will convince the people that Chaos is losing ground. They need hope."

Guilliman offered the astropath a reassuring smile.

"I still believe this is unwise," Luo Shan pressed. "You are too important. If something were to happen to you, who would lead the Imperium?"

"I am no ornament to be displayed behind glass," Guilliman replied firmly. "I was created to lead, to fight, to win—not to be placed on a shelf as a symbol. This conversation is over. Return to your post and continue monitoring the Warp. I expect your next report soon."

"As you command, my lord," Luo Shan said, bowing deeply before departing.

He understood that a Primarch's will was not easily swayed. He could only offer advice—nothing more.

As Luo Shan exited, Guilliman called after him.

"Send Sicarius in. I have matters to discuss with him."

With a final bow, Luo Shan left to carry out his orders.