Nostramo, Underhive of Hive City 5 — The Waste Dumps.
Following the faint psychic resonance, Nyx had finally arrived. Like a rat searching for a Primarch, he sifted through the mountains of refuse, hoping to find that tall, gaunt figure — Curze.
Finally, I've... Wait — where the hell is Curze?!
Before him, a bottomless pit pierced through the hive layer, descending straight towards the planetary core. Nyx could almost picture it: a gaunt child clawing his way out of this hellish abyss, utterly alone.
It was almost impossible for a Primarch to die from something so simple. Yet how many beings like Curze were left clinging to life at the very brink of death, mere moments after their birth?
Gazing at the dark, rust-coloured bloodstains already frozen upon the cavern's edge, Nyx's heart grew heavy. The connection between himself and Curze was so faint it could barely guide him to the hive — locating a single child within this labyrinthine city was no less arduous than compelling the Emperor to suckle at Nurgle's teats.
Nurgle: I have absolutely no issues with that arrangement!
If only I had come sooner...
Then again, with Curze's own foresight, he would never have allowed himself to be buried here. For now, Nyx had more immediate concerns: the gang of thugs who had trailed him here from the lower hive.
"Hey, boy!" A coarse shout rang out behind Nyx. The leader of the pack — a muscular man with a mohawk — levelled his battered, modified autogun and aimed the barrel directly at Nyx's skull.
"Play nice and follow us, and you'll suffer less."
These four thugs had been eyeing Nyx ever since his arrival. They assumed this soft-skinned, delicate adolescent had slipped into the underhive seeking treasure. Instead, all he did was stand there, staring blankly at a refuse heap.
"Ha! Sell this little whelp to the nobleman who's gone down to the underhive, and we'll have ourselves a proper drink tonight!"
"This time, I'm finding myself a couple of women to... unwind with."
"Rose — go and grab him. Careful not to damage the goods."
All four regarded Nyx as a lamb ready for slaughter, utterly oblivious that they themselves had wandered into a trap.
"Four men... A little on the older side, but they'll suffice." Nyx's lips curled into a dangerous arc as he slowly descended the trash mound. He needed someone to vent the depression coiling in his chest.
The young thug named Rose reached out to seize Nyx's shoulder — but the moment his fingers made contact, his eyes rolled back, and he crumpled instantly to the ground.
"Wh-what's happening?!"
After a brief, stunned silence, a dreadful realisation flooded the leader's mind.
"He's a psyker!"
The gangleader reacted first. In a hive city of hundreds of millions, psykers were hardly rare — but most were raving madmen, unable to control their abilities. Only an elite few could walk the hive's corridors with their sanity intact.
"Damn it! The kid's not even grown — there's no way he can control his power freely!"
Fear breeds madness. Flooded with adrenaline, the three remaining thugs squeezed their triggers, unleashing a torrent of sporadic gunfire.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
Bullets streaked forward, their accuracy and stopping power pitifully weak. Nyx felt no urge to even dodge.
"Acceptable reaction time. You'll serve as my Captain." He ignored the rain of lead, advancing directly towards the trio. This time, all three surviving thugs saw it clearly: the bullets struck Nyx's skin, flattened instantly, and ricocheted off as if they had hit ceramite plating — leaving not even a white mark.
"You... what kind of monster are you?!" The gangleader trembled, collapsing to his knees, finally comprehending the enormity of the being he had provoked.
"I am merely a man. Nothing more." Nyx's expression was cold as he delivered his ultimatum: "Now — pledge allegiance, or die."
"I—I choose allegiance..." The gangleader grovelled forward, crawling towards Nyx on his knees — yet the moment he drew close, he lunged! A dagger of Nostraman adamantium slid from his sleeve, driving straight for Nyx's throat!
"Go to hell!"
This blade had been a trophy from a previous skirmish. The leader knew Nyx would never release them — his only gambit was that this keen edge might still claim his foe's life.
"Bold, but utterly without strategy. It seems you still fail to grasp the chasm of power between a mortal and a Primarch." Nyx pinched the dagger's tip between two fingers, wrenching it from the leader's grasp. With a resigned sigh, lightning crackled between his digits — and the three thugs collapsed in unison, plunged into a deep, deathlike coma.
"Physique is somewhat suboptimal, but for creating Space Marines, one cannot afford to be overly fastidious."
Nyx's lips curved into a grim smile. Behind him, a pocket dimension shimmered into existence — one of the legacies inherited from the Space King during his transit across time.
Within that space lay the Space King's power armour, his power sword, and his bolt pistol — yet Nyx required none of these at present. The most vital contents were the four "Saint Eggs"— the key artefacts required to "resurrect" the Space King's four-man command squad.
The Saint Egg — a unique biotechnological crystallization exclusive to the Space King. It could instantaneously transform a baseline human into a transhuman Space Marine, serving as a "miracle pill" substitute for the Fledgling Emperor's gene-seed. Certain Saint Eggs also contained the sealed memories, identities, and souls of veteran warriors — allowing these champions to re-enter the world, awakening within their new bodies as though from slumber.
Nyx employed his magnetic field manipulation to levitate four paired Saint Eggs, each designated for a specific role: Apothecary "Chestnut," "Blazing Hatred" — Techmarine "Bryce," and the Company Captain.
The blond youth's eyes swept playfully across the four prone thugs. In this moment, four warriors from the Space King's domain stood poised to be reborn within the Warhammer universe, their oaths of fealty sworn irrevocably to Nyx.
The implantation process was one of agony and ecstasy — at least, Nyx found it deeply satisfying. The four thugs regained consciousness repeatedly amidst searing pain, only to lapse back into oblivion, cycling between torment and oblivion.
The absence of amniotic tanks and sterile conditions was regrettably crude — but the situation demanded haste. Nyx trusted his warriors would lodge no complaints upon awakening.
As the Saint Eggs completed their integration, superseding the function of gene-seed, the four bodies underwent a cataclysmic transformation! Their once-unremarkable musculature swelled and knotted, their heights surging past two metres. Already-frayed garments tore apart under the strain of their expanded frames.
At the opportune moment, Nyx withdrew spare clothing from his dimensional rift and tossed it to them.
"Praise be to the Too—"
"Clothe yourselves first. "
The Company Captain — first to awaken — knelt and saluted the moment he beheld Nyx. The thrum of soul-resonance confirmed beyond doubt that the being before him was the Space King, the liege they had long sought. Yet Nyx had no desire to admire a naked, musclebound giant rendering him tribute; he turned his back as the remaining three stirred one by one.
Several minutes later, the four had dressed themselves in the typical garb of Nostraman gangers. Unfortunately, the fabric strained taut over their bulging, knotted physiques — giving the distinct impression of Orks Warbands forcibly crammed into human clothing.
And I thought I was the one with poor fashion sense.
"Great Space King. The Space Marine Squad stands ready at your command." The Captain knelt once more, pledging his allegiance — and the remaining three followed suit.
"Excellent, my warriors." Nyx's gaze was galvanising as he stared deep into the hive's shadowed heart. "Our mission now is this: purge this entire world, and locate my brother — Konrad Curze."
Curze — if I find you with even one broken nail, I swear I'll break your godsforsaken legs!
Within the shadows beyond Nyx's perception, a gaunt, pallid figure dissolved into the darkness. His hollow, sunken eyes observed everything.
...A place that was never meant to exist here... Brother...?