Warhammer: Dawn of Annihilation

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Hawk clenched his fists as the holographic projection flickered before him.

"Fuck you, Grouse."

The venom in his voice barely scratched the surface of his anger, but the advertisement played on, indifferent to his rage. The words burned into his mind—

"You should all be burned at the stake, you disgusting vampires."

It was an ad for Grouse No. 1 Vitality Potion, an insidious product from the family that held countless lives in its grip. Hawk gritted his teeth, but no matter how much he cursed, the projector kept spewing propaganda.

Eventually, the commercial ended, replaced by some mindless TV series meant to pacify the masses.

He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, forcing himself to calm down. Anger wouldn't change anything. The Grouse family's dominion spanned across multiple galaxies; their influence was a towering monolith, crushing anything beneath it.

People like him? They didn't matter.

Getting angry only made life harder.

Numbness was better.

If he numbed himself enough, he wouldn't feel the sadness, the weight of the hopelessness pressing down on him. He could continue this cycle—working, surviving, clinging to the Emperor's name like a dying ember.

But why was he angry?

This was life. People were born, they worked, they married, they had children, and they died—early. Their corpses were recycled by the Food Association, turned into the very energy bars that sustained the next generation.

It had been like this for centuries.

Why did it feel so wrong?

But he couldn't silence the fury boiling in his chest. He knew something had been stolen from him, from all of them, by the vampire-like Grouse family. A future? A dream? Something intangible yet vital.

If he had a child, that child would inherit the same fate.

If he didn't, he would be sentenced—discarded as a useless anomaly, left to rot as a homeless drifter.

This life was a stagnant pool, with no current, no change. Only decay.

Hawk turned onto his side, trying to escape the thoughts clawing at his mind. Then another one crept in.

Madara was going to die.

His friend—one of the few people he had left. And there was nothing Hawk could do except prepare to collect his body, whisper curses to an unfeeling machine, and pretend it mattered.

For the first time, the thought of suicide crept into his mind.

Why fight? What was the point?

His lips curled into a bitter smile.

"May the holy Emperor burn you to death."

His words dripped with sarcasm, but they left a hollow taste in his mouth. The truth was simple—the pastors wouldn't burn the Grouse family. They burned people like him instead, those too poor to buy their way into salvation.

Natal Galaxy, Outer Orbit

Serial Number Natal-19-18—The Divination Probe drifted through the cold abyss, silent and watchful. A construct of both machinery and human flesh, its sole purpose was to monitor the Warp Lane leading into the Natal system.

For decades, it had hung in the void, witnessing the passage of countless starships.

With the Great Rift's expansion, fewer ships braved the Warp. The storms had made navigation an ever-present gamble with death.

The probe had long grown accustomed to quiet.

But today, silence shattered.

An abnormal subspace fluctuation ruptured reality, rippling into the real universe. The probe's sensors flared, capturing the disturbance.

A fleet. A massive fleet, approaching the Natal galaxy at a staggering speed.

Data streamed through its artificial cortex, the divination scanners pulsing into the Warp for confirmation. The response came swiftly—urgent, undeniable.

The machine spirit registered it as a major event.

Within moments, a transmission fired through the Skyhawk-engraved array launcher, relaying the alert to the Natal government.

Natal Galactic Council

The governor's voice thundered through the chamber, his fists slamming against the table.

"That idiot Guilliman should open his eyes and see how much the Grouse family is loved and respected! For centuries, we have guided this planet like the sun! The people of Natal look to us as their spiritual leaders!"

Silence filled the underground council hall.

No one dared respond.

If the Inquisition or the Ecclesiarchy heard these words, the governor would burn at the stake before the sun set.

Blasphemy against the Primarch was a death sentence.

But the governor was undeterred, his voice rising with self-righteous fury.

"If he takes our power, the people will suffer! They will starve, wander without purpose, and fall into chaos!"

His fat, bloated face twisted with emotion, and to the horror of the council, a tear actually slipped down his cheek.

"Guilliman is a demon!" he bellowed, arms shaking. "He seeks to usurp his father's throne! He persecutes us, the true loyalists of the Emperor, while raising up useless fools who serve only him!"

A lone councilor hesitated before speaking, voice cautious.

"My lord… such words could bring ruin upon us."

The governor scoffed. "Let the storm come. Let that damned demon try! The Grouse family does not fear him! We are the most devout servants of the Imperium! We are ready to die for it!"

His layered body quivered with emotion as he stood, but before he could continue, a figure rushed into the hall.

They leaned in, whispering hurried words into the governor's ear.

The blood drained from his face.

"What did you say?" his voice rasped. "The holy Primarch is coming here? But he was still leading the expedition in the Connor Industrial Galaxy—"

"We do not know, my lord. But the divination probe outside the galaxy has scanned the Glory of Macragge in the Warp. An entire fleet is en route to Natal."

The governor paled, a flicker of terror replacing his arrogance.

"Damn it," he hissed. "Prepare to receive the Primarch. Order the planetary defense forces to clear the main roads—keep the rich in sight, push the rabble out. Make sure they praise the great Grouse family."

His voice steadied, snapping into calculated control.

"No matter what I've said here, we cannot offend the Primarch. The Emperor's Angel could erase the Grouse family from existence with a single decree."

Turning to his council, his gaze darkened.

"You all know what to do. If I hear even a whisper of disloyalty, your families will disappear into the void. The Grouse family has stood for millennia—we are as eternal as the Imperium itself. Cross us, and you will be the ones who fall."

Without another word, he stormed from the chamber, his bulk moving with surprising urgency.

The councilors exchanged uneasy glances before scrambling after him.

The storm had arrived.