Warhammer 40k : Space Marine Kayvaan

"I… I can't," Darius whispered, his voice breaking. "It hurts. My body feels like it's tearing itself apart."

Kayvaan's expression hardened. "Pain is a test—one you must pass. The flesh may falter, but the mind decides whether you stand or fall. I'm not asking—I'm ordering you. Stand up."

Darius clenched his jaw, his trembling hands pushing against the cold floor. With a strained groan and sweat pouring down his face, he forced himself upright, his body shaking violently.

Kayvaan gave a small, approving nod. "Good. Follow me."

Darius, still catching his breath, managed a weak but hopeful, "Is there any good news, my lord?"

"First of all, congratulations," Kayvaan said, his tone both encouraging and wryly amused. "You've cleared the first, most grueling hurdle. Honestly, most of us—myself included—didn't expect you to make it this far. Many others have failed here, and not quietly. Some couldn't endure the agony of transformation and lost their minds, reduced to little more than drooling husks. Others suffered organ rejection and became little better than grotesque servitors."

Kayvaan placed a reassuring hand on Darius's shoulder. "But don't worry about that. Your body has proven exceptional—flawless, even. The tests confirm it. The pain you feel now is just your flesh adapting to the new implants. It will pass. My advice? Don't resist it—embrace it. Learn to manage it, to turn it into strength. Pain is your Captain, Darius. If you master it now, the challenges you'll face later will feel like nothing."

"I will endure, Captain," Darius replied, bowing his head.

"Good. And drop the 'Your Excellency' nonsense. From now on, call me captain. You've begun your true training, and for the next fifty years, you'll be a Knight-Aspirant under my care."

"Knight-Aspirant?" Darius asked, tilting his head.

Kayvaan nodded. "That's the rank given to neophytes like you—those who have survived the trials but are still untested. After your fifty-year apprenticeship, you'll earn the rank of Knight and join the ranks of our Chapter's brethren as a full-fledged warrior of the Temple. But don't get ahead of yourself. This is only the beginning."

"Fifty years…" Darius echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Kayvaan chuckled. "Fifty years is nothing, Darius. Compared to the lifetime that awaits you as an Astartes, it'll feel like a blink. Now come—I'll show you the tools of our trade."

They arrived at the Chapter's training range, where rows of weapons gleamed under the dim lumen strips. "Take a good look," Kayvaan said, gesturing to the racks. "These are the tools you'll wield as a warrior of the Emperor. Know them well—whether in your hands or an enemy's, ignorance can mean death."

"I'll give it my all, Captain," Darius said earnestly.

"Good." Kayvaan grabbed a standard lasgun from the rack and held it up. "We'll start simple. This is a lasgun—standard-issue weapon for the Astra Militarum. A fine tool for the rank and file." With a smooth motion, he field-stripped the weapon and reassembled it in moments before raising it to his shoulder. He fired a burst at a distant target, the red beam scorching the bullseye. The range's automated vox droned, "10 rings."

"This weapon fires a focused energy pulse powered by replaceable charge packs," Kayvaan explained. "No recoil, easy to aim. Against unarmored targets, it's efficient. But against something tougher—an Ork, a Tyranid, or even basic power armor—it's as useful as waving a glow-lamp at them. If you ever face Guardsmen wielding these, don't bother hiding. Walk right through their fire and deal with them up close."

Kayvaan returned the lasgun to the rack and picked up a far larger, brutal-looking weapon. "This, however, is a boltgun. This is our weapon—designed for Space Marines, by Space Marines."

He pulled a single bolt round from the magazine and held it up. "Most primitive weapons fire bullets propelled by chemical explosives—high-speed slugs. This, however, fires mass-reactive bolts. Miniature rockets, each packed with an explosive warhead. The boltgun doesn't just punch through flesh—it detonates inside it."

Darius furrowed his brow. "I… don't understand. A rocket?"

Kayvaan smiled patiently. "Think of it like this: every round fired from this gun is a tiny guided missile. It tears into the target, then explodes. That's why it's so devastating. But pay attention—never tamper with the ammunition. Bolts are volatile. Mishandling one during maintenance will result in your hands—and your life—being scattered across the deck." Setting the boltgun aside, Kayvaan motioned Darius to the firing line. "Enough theory. Time to test your aim. Be mindful of your stance—the boltgun has serious recoil. Fail to brace properly, and it'll knock you flat."

Despite the grueling lesson, Kayvaan felt a surprising satisfaction in the process. Darius was raw but quick to learn, and teaching him had its own rewards. Time passed swiftly, and before long, a chime echoed through the range—the Ebony Shadow had reached its destination.

The bridge was taut with anticipation. The Ebony Shadow moved carefully into Aion's orbit, its crew scanning the void with meticulous focus. The atmosphere crackled with unease. Elizabeth had assured them the Eldar presence was limited—no more than ten Rangers, with no enemy vessels in the system. Still, doubts lingered. Intelligence could fail, and failure in war meant death.

The ship's captain guided the vessel with glacial precision, every movement deliberate. Auspex screens blinked and buzzed as the crew combed the system for signs of hostile craft. Every scan was double-checked. Every anomaly was analyzed. Finally, the vox crackled to life. "All scans complete. Orbit clear—no enemy ships detected."

Kayvaan nodded with satisfaction. "It seems our inquisitor's intelligence was accurate. The enemy numbers are small, and there are no warships in orbit around the planet. The Eldar typically avoid deploying ships unless there's a large-scale operation. They have their own ways of traversing the stars."

The captain, standing by the control panel, turned to the crew on the bridge. "Stay sharp, everyone. We don't know where those crafty xenos might be hiding."

Kayvaan folded his arms. "Let's stick to the plan."

"Understood, sir," the captain replied, saluting. He swiftly issued a series of commands. "Adjust the hull to a 45-degree angle. Begin a gradual descent into the outer cruising orbit of Aion."

At the helm, the helmsman guided the Ebony Shadows, tilting the vessel like a descending swan. The mighty ship slid smoothly toward the planet. When the ship fully entered orbit, the adjutant called out, "We're in position."

The captain nodded. "Stabilize the hull. Prep the ejection cabin and ready the Sky Eye for deployment."

The crew responded in unison. "Sky Eye ready."

"Launch it. Once deployment is complete, shut down the plasma furnace and switch to silent running."