He was not meant to kneel. Not to pray. I made him for a single purpose: to be the unrelenting answer to the Warp. A weapon of flesh, fury, and silence. No glory, no legion — only war." thegodemperor of mankind
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Third person POV
His muscles relaxed.
And slowly… the surrounding area returned to normal.
His eyes drifted shut.
And then—all faded to black.
He was fast asleep, floating in the tank. But something stirred in his mind.
He began to see things—memories that weren't clear. In one, he was fighting someone strong. An enemy, a brother, who knows. The scene was violent and fast, but he couldn't see who it was. Just a sense of anger, and grief.
Then his worldview changed.
He was in an arena, standing in the center while a crowd shouted above him. They chanted the same phrase over and over.
"Kar en tuk! Kar en tuk!"
He didn't know what it meant, but it filled him with energy. He fought, again and again, until there was only silence.
The scene changed yet again.
Everything around him twisted. A place that wasn't real. Colors bent the wrong way. Shapes floated through the air, whispering and screaming at once. He knew this place is dangerous but he doesn't know where exactly he was at.
Then, four figures appeared.
The first was red, his aura giving off violence and blood.
The second aura flickered with tricks, secrets, and mystery.
The third stank of rot, death, and decay.
The last glowed with excess and desire.
They spoke at once, voices pressing into his mind.
"You are a threat."
"Must be delayed."
"Must be eliminated."
Then, just like that—he woke up.
Alarms were blaring. The tank hissing. Lights flashed erratically.
He saw what was going on—his brothers—being pulled into a swirling hole of energy he saw in his dream. One by one, they vanished.
[Lion El'Jonson. Fulgrim. Perturabo. Jaghatai Khan.
Leman Russ. Rogal Dorn. Konrad Curze. Sanguinius. Ferrus Manus.
Angron. Roboute Guilliman. Mortarion. Magnus the Red.
Horus. Lorgar. Vulkan. Corvus Corax. Alpharius and Omegon.]
Then the warp came for him.
There was no time to fight it. He was pulled in, and he saw things no one should see. Nothing made sense. He couldn't even tell if he had a body, or if he was looking straight, there was gravity but he floats like there is none, time moves fast but nothing is moving.
One moment, he was in the tank with his brothers. The next, a hole ripped through reality itself had sucked him in.
It wasn't random. It was planned.
The four beings—the ones he saw in his dream—sent it. He could feel it. They wanted him gone. Hurt. Lost. Maybe turned into something like them.
He stood in the heart of madness, and madness stood before him.
Demons. Thousands. Millions. Billions.
They came in waves, snarling and shrieking, limbs twisting in impossible shapes, speaking in languages not meant for mortal ears. He looked around him, and he surrounded, if it was a regular soldier in his place they would have killed themselves, but he was not normal, he was the Doom slayer, and it was time to rip and tear, to go all out and fight his way out. He tore through them with his bare hands, broken blades, and psychic weapons scavenged from their twitching corpses.
They came on him endlessly. Fangs. Claws. Fire. Psychic attacks.
He fought them all.
They never stopped.
He didn't either.
And above it all, he felt their eyes. Always watching. The Chaos Gods were always there, observing him of his every move, They tempted. Mocked. Threatened. Promised.
Khorne—offering strength through rage. Whispering promises of glory soaked in blood.
Tzeentch—offering secrets, power, and power to see into the future through knowledge and lies.
Papa Nurgle—offering peace through death, rot that never will never hurt him.
Slaanesh— the youngest chaos god of among them, offering pleasure, sensation, anything to make him forget his rage.
He said nothing.
His mind didn't break. His soul didn't waver. His body adapted.
Every demon he killed made him stronger.
Every battle hardened him.
Every whisper from the gods faded into silence.
He didn't speak.
He didn't beg.
He didn't stop.
He just kept moving forward.
One step at a time. One demon at a time.
Rip and tear. Until it was done.
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[Terra(earth)– The Inner Sanctum, Himalazian Mountains]
The silence was loud.
Once, this chamber hold the future of humanity—twenty pods, each holding the seed of a new age. His sons. Crafted not merely of flesh, but of purpose. Of vision. Of divine design. Now… the chambers stood empty. The chaos gods, foul and insidious, had teleported them all—wrenched them from His grasp in a single moment. Not even He, the emperor with all His might, foresaw how deeply Chaos would strike so soon.
He stood amidst the ruin of His greatest work, unmoving, golden eyes dim of the weight of loss.
Not even He could track their exact location—not yet. They had been scattered through the galaxy like leaves flung into a storm, buried beneath time and tide and the madness of the Immaterium(the warp).
But on his way towards here, He felt one of his sons in particular… resist the corruptive nature that is the warp. One who did not scream—but snarled back it.
His brow furrowed. His jaw clenched. And slowly, He turned from the shattered vats. to the war room for he has a important mission to give to his subordinates.
[Later – The Imperial Palace War Room]
The high-ranking generals of Terra gathered beneath towering banners and burning tactica-displays. Their Emperor entered in silence. His eyes, glowing, his gaze swept across the chamber. Each of them fell silent beneath His gaze.
"This galaxy is in ruins," He said, voice calm and deep. "Our kindmen is broken. Divided. Scattered away, helpless, scared."
He raised a hand—and a starmap flickered to life above them. Distant, flickering points lit up across the galactic plane—each one a human colony long lost during the Age of Strife. Cut off. Alone. Vulnerable, all because of the birth of the new chaos god and humanity's arrogance of the AI uprising.
"But we are not finished."
"I will not let humanity fade into the long grim dark. I will not let the Warp take what I have built for the past thousands of years. We will find our kin. We will bring them back. And we will scour the galaxy clean of all that threatens them."
He paused. His voice dipped—quiet, cold.
"And I will find my sons! so who's with me!?."
"For the emperor, for the imperium"
"For the emperor, for the imperium"
"For the emperor, for the imperium"
Thus the Great Crusade began.
The Legions were raised. The legion gave way to the perfected forms of the imperial guard. Fleets, black and green, took to the stars. Mars was the first stop of his great crusade.
World by world, He would untie lost planets that humans once had lost during the golden age of humanity/the age of strife and would unite them all in one banner, one nation.
[THE IMPERIUM OF MAN]
The Emperor's heart ached thinking about his son's fate. But He would find them.
He would reunite them.
He would bring order to this galaxy that is broken and lawless .
And the galaxy would know His empire, His Space marines.
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AN: forgot to add that ch 1-2 were prologues and the third chapter will be present time, where doom slayer is at the warp, silly me tehe.