Warhammer 40k : Space Marine Kayvaan

Kayvaan sighed, leaning back in his chair, his thoughts heavy. Pleasure was dangerous—temptation brought ruin, a siren song for the damned. His body, marked by the taint of Slaanesh, the Dark Prince of Excess, ensured he was always under suspicion. The Inquisition's unrelenting gaze followed him like a predator in the dark. For now, caution was his shield—a lesson learned at great cost.

'Perhaps things will improve when I leave the Segmentum Solar', Kayvaan mused grimly. 'At least there, I might savor a meal without fanatics crying heresy and seeking to purge me for "indulgence."' His eyes settled on Darius, who stood before him with naive eagerness. The boy, so bright-eyed and trusting, made Kayvaan's gut twist with reluctant pity.

"The gene-screening results are in," Kayvaan said softly, though the weight of his words lingered like a funeral dirge. "You're a match. There's no sign of rejection; the implantation process should proceed without complications."

"Truly?" Darius almost leapt from his seat, excitement igniting his features. He paced like a caged beast, unable to contain himself. "I knew it! I knew I could do it. This is my chance!"

Kayvaan offered a faint, weary smile at the boy's exuberance. "It surprises me, if I'm honest. Few aspirants come from noble. Most recruits hail from death worlds or hive slums where survival breeds strength. The fact that you passed is rare—miraculous, even. But tell me honestly… are you sure? Becoming an Astartes is not the honor the Ministorum claims. It is a curse."

Darius's grin faltered, confusion crossing his face. "A curse? What do you mean?"

"Do you truly believe the propaganda, boy?" Kayvaan's voice lowered, words sharp as a blade. "The Imperial Guard are 'heroes' who march gloriously into battle, they say. Lies. They are fodder—little more than a delaying tactic. And us? The Adeptus Astartes? We are not human."

Darius blinked, his excitement draining. "Not human? What are you saying?"

Kayvaan's tone darkened further, his gaze unrelenting. "You will cease to be what you are. The transformation changes everything. You gain strength beyond imagination, endurance that defies belief. But at the same time, you will lose… yourself. Your fears. Your desires. Your humanity. Fear makes men human, Darius. Without it, you are something else."

Darius stood frozen, absorbing the words, his brows furrowing. Kayvaan continued, "You will become unrecognizable—flesh, bone, even your face will warp into something other. And here's the truth no one speaks of: you will have no need for women, nor will you desire them."

That struck the boy like a hammer blow. "Wait… what?" He gawked at Kayvaan, awkwardly gesturing downward. "You mean they'll… they'll cut it off?" His voice rose in alarm, laced with panic.

Kayvaan barked a harsh laugh, shaking his head. "Calm yourself. No one will touch you. But your lust, your need for companionship? That will wither like a flame deprived of air. You can still partake, I suppose, but it will mean nothing. It will be an empty act, devoid of joy."

"Empty?" Darius echoed, his expression horrified. "You mean… I'll lose everything? Even that?"

Kayvaan's voice dropped, cold and final. "Do you think this life allows for such distractions? Astartes exist to wage war, not to indulge urges. You will lose all semblance of a normal life, and the truth is—" He met Darius's stunned gaze with grim finality. "It will be easier that way. Desire festers like rot when left unchecked."

Silence hung between them, thick and oppressive. Darius's youthful confidence fractured, his face a storm of doubt and unease. Kayvaan let the words sink in before speaking again. "The pleasures you know will be stripped from you. Are you ready for that? To sacrifice all that you are?"

Darius hesitated, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. A moment passed before he lifted his chin, resolve flickering in his eyes. "I can endure it. I've made my decision. I want to leave. I want to fight."

Kayvaan sighed, his expression softening, though it did little to hide the bitterness in his voice. "I don't understand you. You're a noble—wealth, luxury, and ease have been handed to you since birth. And yet, you wish to abandon all of it for the hell of war. Don't tell me you seek some foolish sense of purpose?"

Darius's face darkened. He glanced quickly over his shoulder, as if ensuring no one else could hear. When he leaned in close, his voice was a hushed tremor. "I'm afraid," he whispered. "I can't stay here. I can't survive here."

Kayvaan leaned back, frowning. "Why?" he asked, his tone steady but curious.

Darius's voice brimmed with excitement, almost spilling over. "I was scared before—too scared to even say it. But now? Now it doesn't matter. Things are different." He paused, his eyes lighting up with fervor. "I want to become one of the Space Marines. Space Marines aren't afraid of anything. I want to leave this place, get away from all these... creatures. I want to speak my mind freely and, one day, die proudly on the battlefield. No fear. No hesitation. I want to stand tall and face life head-on. I want to be stronger."

"Yes, Space Marines are fearless," Kayvaan agreed with a nod. "But what are you so afraid of?"

"Everything. Everything here!" Darius stepped back with exaggerated movements and flopped onto the couch. He gestured wildly before falling into a quiet, almost haunted voice. "Every breath of air feels wrong, like it's laced with suspicion. Every glance is probing, like they're peeling away your soul. The streets are littered with cameras, electronic eyes tracking your every move. It's everywhere—this constant surveillance." He let out a hollow laugh. "Even when I drink, I can't let myself get drunk. You know why? Because I can't trust anyone. Informants are everywhere, willing to sell you out for the smallest reward. It's suffocating, like living under the weight of invisible chains. You can't see them, but they're there. Always there, tightening around your thoughts until you don't dare to even think freely."

Kayvaan scratched the back of his head, his expression thoughtful. He'd heard of similar things in another world but had never experienced them firsthand. "Is it really that bad?"

"Is it that bad?" Darius sat up, staring directly at Kayvaan with an intensity that bordered on manic. "Let me tell you a story. I had a friend, a good guy, from a remote galaxy. He came from a wealthy family, generous and full of life. He was the kind of person who lit up a room just by being there. Then one night, he got drunk and said something he shouldn't have."

Kayvaan's curiosity was piqued. "What did he say?"

Darius hesitated, his voice dropping to a near whisper, as though the walls had ears. "He said, 'The Emperor created the universe? What nonsense. Those Sisters are insane.'" He chuckled nervously, the sound hollow. "Can you believe that? He actually said that. Out loud. In public."

Kayvaan's eyes widened slightly. "What happened?"