Chapter 1: Exile
His howls of rage drowned out the screams of the Daemons that came at him from every direction, he had long since lost track of time, he only focused on killing every enemy before him in the name of the God Emperor.
He had spent every round, broken his blade, and now crushed the enemies of man with his armored hands and stolen weapons, ripped from the Daemons' claws, or torn from his own open wounds.
He swung a Bloodletter's blade down on one of it's kinsmen, cutting it in half, before impaling another, the weapon getting stuck in it's chest.
He grabbed the dying Daemon by the throat and threw it into the masses charging towards him before charging himself, but as he closed the distance, the Daemons disappeared.
He looked all around, but the dead battlefield was plain, no enemies and no places for them to hide.
You have amused me these long years.
He turned upward to the voice, only to realize that the field that he had fought in for longer than he could remember was the open palm of the Beast atop the Skull Throne, and he now stared into that monster's eyes.
But I grow tired of your loyalty to the Anathema, so now you will kill for me alone.
Without a second of hesitation, he charged the incarnation of hate, swearing vengeance for his brothers, but with a mere wave of his hand, the Beast sent him to a realm with no threats to the Imperium, where he can only spill blood...for the Blood God.
Another Realm
He halted his charge as he realized that his enemy had disappeared, which was after he had effortlessly crashed through a tree, and surveyed his new surroundings.
He was in a forest, on the edge of it actually, he could see light piercing through the foliage to his left.
Peering out through the trees, he could see a village not far away, but he kept his distance, the Great Enemy's words echoing through his mind, telling him that whatever lived here, the enemies of man wanted them dead, and expected him to kill them.
He would never kill for Chaos, but that did not mean the inhabitants of this eorld were not a threat to man kind, his hesitation could be what the Great Enemy was counting on for their victory, he would have to judge them, weigh their value alive and dead, but there was a problem.
As soon as he thought of them, he clenched his head as pain sung through his skull, The Butcher's Nails, hammered into his brain to give him rage and killer instinct beyond the norm, demanded that he once more throw himself into the thick of slaughter, but he would wait, until he was sure that the Imperium needed him to destroy these villagers.
His objective clear in his mind, he pushed the bite of the Nails to the back of his mind and walked around the forest, keeping within view of the town, but out of sight of anyone looking too close, hoping to find a villager or two to judge without being seen.
Eventually, he found a small house on the outskirts of the forest, surrounded by small animals with nests and wooden houses built by sentient hands.
He squatted down and waited to see what would come out of the house, he was almost certain that it would be xenos, incentive for him to destroy them, at the very least they would uneducated barbarians unwilling to accept the imperial truth, but he expected Eldar, simply because of a time long ago when a skirmish with one of the tricksters' Farseers ended in the witch's escape, but not before she had promised him that he would stand alone, betrayed by the ones he loved and trusted, his fury spiked as he remembered how right she had been, but he pushed the memories of that night to the back of his mind, the mission comes first.
His eyes darted from the house to the windows, looking for any sign of movement as a couple of small equine creatures walked up the path, he began to believe that no one was home...when the strangest thing happened.
"Thanks for helping me out with Gummy, who knew too much sweets could be bad for alligators?" One of the equines asked the other...in flawless imperial gothic.
If he had been a normal human rather than an astartes, his jaw would've hit the ground, but he simply absorbed the information as it came, they are indeed xenos, sentient equines...who feed sweets to alligators, not exactly a threat to the imperium.
"Oh, it's no problem Pinkie Pie, but you should consider cutting down the amount of cupcakes you feed to Gummy, most ponies can't eat that much." The other equine said to her friend.
So they call themselves ponies, again, nothing damning.
"Really, I eat, like, three times that much." The pony named Pinkie Pie stated...before pulling a cake half her size out of thin air and swallowing it whole with no effort at all.
That was a red flag, the only way that would be possible was some sort of warp magic, and her friend didn't even bat an eye, meaning that it was likely a common practice, but she could be a sanctioned psyker with special privileges, or they could have complete control over the warp, that would explain why the Great Enemy wants them dead.
Pinkie Pie's friend giggled slightly. "I believe you, well, I have to go tend to the animals, you know how Angel gets if I make him wait."
"Okey Dokey, see you tomorrow Fluttershy." Pinkie Pie said before trotting back the way she had come, leaving Fluttershy, who evidently lived here, to go about feeding each animal outside before opening the door to her home to the happy calls of greeting from several other animals.
He looked at the sun and realized that it would soon be dark, he had learned little of these xenos, they were strange, but not dangerous, had they been discovered by the imperium, it is unlikely that astartes would be sent to deal with them.
He slid back into the forest and began looking for a place to spend the night without killing indiscriminately.
The forest was thick, broken only by the paths of beasts, but eventually, he found a cave to stay in.
By the time he found this shelter he was seething, the Nails demanded death and carnage, but he would not kill for Him, only in the Emperor's name.
He barely surveyed his surroundings, but luckily for whatever had lived here, the cave was now abandoned.
He didn't stop until he was in the deepest depths of the cave, he didn't want to chance anything hearing what would inevitably happen.
He reached the end and leaned against the wall, clenching his head as the pain continued to grow, he lost track of how long he endured, but the light of the sun had faded, and a bright ray of moonlight illuminated the mouth of the cave.
The pain grew, and grew, and grew, he paced the back of the cave, needing to kill, but refusing to serve the enemies of man.
It was the truest battle of wills, he would not allow his rage to benefit those foul beings, but as he refused to vent his rage in battle, the rage only burned stronger.
At his wit's end, he removed his helmet, allowing the cool night air to alleviate the faintest of his great discomfort.
His eyes drifted to the helmet in his hand, the helmet he wore...the helmet they wore.
He gripped it in both hands, staring into it's deactivated eyes, remembering those he stood beside for years, those he protected when they were vulnerable, those he failed to protect, and finally...those who betrayed him.
He began to tighten his grip as the last thought took over his mind, he had always buried his pain in rage, but now that he could not kill, he only had one target for his anger.
With a vengeful shout, he threw the helmet into the cave wall.
It bounced off and rolled on the floor, but then he stomped it.
The ceramite helm held strong, but he kept stomping, screaming in anger.
He persisted in the attack long after the helmet had been crushed flat, until he flung himself at the very cave, striking, kicking, clawing, and slamming his head into the rock forged walls, until he struck with such fury that he rendered himself unconscious.
He awoke to the familiar sounds of battle, and beheld the sight that gave him his great rage.
His father, the primarch Angron, and several thousands of his own brothers, charging towards him and those of his brothers that they had betrayed.
With a vengeful shout, he and the last loyalists of the XIIth legion met the traitors in a violent clash that saw their white and blue power armor painted red.
He swung his weapon to and fro, not caring for what it was, only that it killed the traitors until there was none left.
He butchered every traitor that came within arm's length, it was all they deserved.
Eventually, as they did before, the remaining traitors were engulfed in fire and emerged as monsters that he would later know as Daemons, but it did not matter to him, Daemon or traitor, they would die for what they've done.
He swung and he killed and he swung and he killed and he- "ENOUGH!!"
He found himself immobilized and saw his numberless enemies disappear, leaving him in a blue void... and he was not alone.
"Do I have your attention now?" asked the dark blue xeno.
Author's Note: And that concludes chapter one, and yes, it was intentionally vague, the World Eater's name and his back story will be revealed next chapter, until then.