Prologue

Halkeginia is a world of fantasy, sorcery and marvelous wonders. The nobles, who are part of great families that descend from the Founder Brimir, can use magic thanks to the power of God that courses through their veins. They have been the legitimate rulers of the world since the Founding of the Kingdoms, and they direct the destinies of millions under their iron fist.

The commoners, those who can't use magic, have come to accept this. They live, love, prosper, fight and die at the whim of the Mages.

The Mages summon servants from other worlds, called familiars, which can add their abilities to the already formidable powers their masters have. Some can become legendary. Sometimes, through the portals to these worlds, other things come through. Formidable weapons, powerful artifacts... and terrible demons.

It is a time of turmoil, and war. In the northern Kingdom of Albion, a rebellion against the nobles has started. Thousands have already died, and more will follow. But there is something more dangerous than the revolt itself. It's an idea. Armies can conquer nations, but ideas can ravage entire worlds.

In the South, the Crusades against the Elves are gaining momentum. There is no peace for the enemies of God.

In the West, the small kingdom of Tristain struggles to survive against the Gallian expansionism, and the power of the Germanian Sacred Empire. The King has recently died, and his young daughter is about to be crowned Queen, amidst the ambition of traitorous courtesans and dangerous palace intrigues. The Tristainian royal families are seasoned veterans of a hundred campaigns and frontier skirmishes. There is no place for mediocrity amongst them.

It is the 19th of April of the Year of the Founder of 1648. It is a time of darkness, and fear, and turbulence. It is the time of the Great Alliance, the Revolution of the Roses, the Red Legion... and the Void Berserker.

Janus IV, 18 light years from the Eye of Terror, 998 M41

Ghathrax raised his power fist to the blood red sky of Janus IV, bellowing his allegiance to the Chaos God Khorne. The Space Marine then pointed his armored finger towards the alien tide coming down on his forces.

'Slaughter the enemy! Blood for the Blood God!' he shouted.

The remnants of the Chaos forces reorganised, preparing for their last stand. The Tyranid swarm was almost upon them. Bolters roared, autoguns barked, men yelled. The ragtag army of cultists, traitor Imperial Guards and Chaos Space Marines led by Lord Ghathrax of the World Eaters rushed forward to meet the horde of skittering creatures that charged against them at full speed, weapons firing and blades bare. Chainswords and axes buzzed to life, their adamantium teeth tearing at air, hungry for flesh and blood.

Gathrax's warriors and the Tyranids ran towards each other, screaming to the top of their lungs until, with a brutal sound of utmost violence, they clashed. Both lines smashed against each other, as the fighters tore at their enemies in an almost obscene display of extreme savagery and bloodlust. The Tyranids were ferocious, and inflicted many casualties among the crazed Chaos warriors, but their numbers and ferocity could not compete against the sheer fanatism of the traitors. Ghathrax was especially lethal. His power fist crushed, and swinged in mortal arcs, sending limbs flying and beating aliens to pulp. In his other hand, a boltgun barked repeatedly, .75 caliber explosive-tipped projectiles punching into chitinous carapaces and exploding inside the scuttling monstrosities that tried to sink their claws and teeh into the enormous Khornate Berserker. Ghathrax gave himself completely to the massacre alongside his brothers, his blood-red armor bathing in the foul icor of the aliens. It was glorious.

The madness continued non-stop for the entire day, claws, fangs and pyroacid spit meeting Bolter rounds, chainswords and monomolecular blades. Still, despite the extreme violence displayed by the Chaos warriors and the enormous amount of casualties they were inflicting to their enemies, the Tyranids were simply too many to be contained. The cultists were swiftly swept from the field, the traitor Guards soon shared their fate, and the Space Marines fell one by one until there were none to carry on the fight. Except for one of them.

Standing on a rising pile of dead bodies, Ghathrax still fought on. His power fist slammed into several enemies at once with each blow, sending them flying with every bone in their bodies broken. His roars of defiance and rage could be heard clearly over the screeching of the swarm. Ghathrax knew this was the end, yet he didn't care. He only cared about taking the most enemies with him to the halls of the Brass Palace, to present Khorne with the mightiest of gifts. And so, he kept killing, not giving a moment's thought to anything but the next enemy.

'BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE! SOULS FOR THE SOUL EATER!' he roared, as alien bodies piled higher and higher under him and around him.

A green light shone behind Ghathrax. He didn't turn, because an especially aggressive monster with claws like razors jumped at him and made him step back. With a shout, both fell through the portal that had just opened for them, and landed on soft, green grass. Ghathrax didn't lose a second, and struck the alien with his power fist again and again, crushing its head under the highly durable adamantium weapon. Icor, brain matter and bone shards flew everywhere. Breathing heavily, the Space Marine got up, and looked around. Of it all, the least surprising and strange was the bunch of teens that now stared at him, their jaws dropped, and their eyes wide open.