Warhammer begins in 2026

Chogoris, a nomadic world covered by boundless grasslands and raging winds.

Tribes were divided, and war raged on. Horses and scimitars were the only rules of this land, and freedom and glory were the lifelong beliefs of all herders. Chagatai Khan rose from this wild land. With his extraordinary horsemanship, combat skills, and magnanimity, he unified the scattered tribes and became the Great Khan respected by all on the grasslands. He led his men across the vast green plains, spreading order and glory to every pasture.

As was destined, the emperor set foot on the land of Chogoris alone. Without a vast fleet or heavily armored guards, he walked as an ordinary traveler through the swirling sandstorms and scattered tribal camps, heading straight into Chagatai's Khan's tent.

Inside the tent, the campfire crackled and danced, the warm aroma of milk wine mingling with the crisp night wind of the wilderness, filling the entire tent. Chagatai sat regally in the main seat, his posture as upright as a pine tree on the grassland, his fingertips lightly resting on the hilt of the heirloom scimitar at his waist, his sharp, hawk-like eyes fixed on the extraordinary uninvited guest before him. He possessed an innate keen sense of perception, able to clearly discern the unfathomable, immense power within the other's body, making him no ordinary envoy venturing into the cosmos.

"A lone visitor from Terra, venturing into my royal tent." Chagatai's voice was loud and clear, carrying the unique forthrightness and arrogance of the steppe people. He casually picked up his leather bag and poured a large, rough earthenware bowl full of strong liquor. "The rule of the steppe is to state your purpose first, then discuss friendship. You dare to face my entire tribe alone; I respect your courage. Drink this bowl first, then we can discuss your case."

The Emperor calmly accepted the bowl of wine, tilted his head back, and drank it all in one gulp. The strong liquor went down his throat without any harshness. His tone was calm and gentle, yet it carried immense weight, each word landing firmly: "I come from Terra, I am the Emperor of Mankind. I have come here to lead you and your tribe on a path far broader than the Chogoris Plains."

He raised his eyes to gaze at the churning sands and clouds outside the tent, and slowly recounted the plight and grand ambitions of human civilization: Ten thousand years ago, human civilization once spanned the vast galaxy, but was shattered by the apocalyptic catastrophe. Countless human worlds scattered across the starry sea were either trapped on desolate islands, slaughtered by aliens, or succumbed to the corruption of darkness, barely surviving. The original intention of the Great Expedition was to traverse the starry sea, unify all the scattered human races, and rebuild an eternal human empire spanning the galaxy. Those Primarchs scattered across the world, possessing the power of the origin, are all irreplaceable core commanders in this journey of salvation.

Chagatai remained silent for a long time after hearing this, his fingertips lightly tapping the solid wood table. His sharp gaze remained fixed on the emperor, carrying the unique caution and vigilance of a steppe overlord: "If I lead my troops to submit to Terra, will my tribe, my battle-hardened warriors, still retain the glory they earned with their blood? Will the long winds of Chogoris still be able to blow freely over their armored warhorses? I have heard that Terra's laws are strict, with rules and regulations like reins binding a fine horse. Will they bind the hooves of my sons and dull the scimitars in the hands of my warriors?"

This was his core concern. The people of the grasslands had spent their lives pursuing freedom and glory. If submission meant only restraint and confinement, then even the grandest empire would be meaningless to him.

"Your glory will only grow ever brighter, and the winds that carry you will reach even more distant stars." The Emperor's tone was resolute, without a trace of falsehood. "The Fifth Legion will preserve all your steppe traditions intact: the steppe faith passed down through generations, the glory of your blood-soaked horsemanship, and your unbridled spirit of freedom—none of these will be erased or altered. From now on, your battlefield will no longer be confined to a single steppe, but the entire vast Milky Way; your hooves will traverse countless stars, and your scimitars will fight for all of human civilization. The steppes of Chogoris are ultimately finite, but the Milky Way is boundless; only there can you find the glory and conquest be worthy of your deeds."

Inside the royal tent, only the soft crackling of the burning campfire could be heard.

Chagatai stared intently into the Emperor's eyes, seeing in them the vastness of the starry sea, the structure of civilization, and the ultimate destination for warriors. After a long while, he suddenly burst into loud laughter, bold and unrestrained. He picked up the wine flask again and filled both bowls with strong liquor, then raised his hand and slammed his own bowl heavily against the Emperor's wine vessel, the crisp sound breaking the silence.

"Okay! I believe you!"

The wine swayed, reflecting the flickering firelight. Chagatai tilted his head back and downed the wine in one gulp, slamming the empty bowl heavily on the table. His eyes were filled with fervor and determination: "I, Chagatai, and my thousands of men should never have been confined to this small grassland! The vastness of the starry sky is just the right place for our scimitars to drink the blood of our enemies, so that the illustrious name of the White Scars may resound throughout every human territory of the galaxy!"

Without a trace of cowardice, without a single hesitation, this iron-blooded Khan who unified the grasslands led all tribes to submit to the human empire on the spot, officially returning to the human family. The Fifth Legion, "White Scars," thus completed its reorganization. The raging winds and scimitars that once traversed the grasslands broke free from the shackles of the planet and officially embarked on a journey into the vast and boundless sea of ​​stars.

At the very moment the entire army returned to its base, the power of the Eagle Flag, rooted deep within the Chagatai Khanate, was suddenly awakened, completing the first stage of complete awakening.

The core essence of the Eagle Flag's blessing can be condensed into one ultimate word—speed.

From that moment on, the White Scar army's land assaults, interstellar mobility, close-quarters combat, battlefield reaction speed, and tactical infiltration speed all received a massive boost. Their cavalry charges swept across the battlefield like lightning, their individual combat as swift as the wind, and their tactical efficiency in flanking maneuvers, long-range raids, and pursuit of routed enemies increased exponentially. This innate talent for extreme speed perfectly complemented the White Scar's generations-old tradition of lightning raids and swift, decisive battles, transforming this steppe iron army into an unparalleled, unstoppable swift cavalry force in the vast cosmos.

At the same time, the Emperor presented Chagatai with a special congratulatory gift that Huang Feng had prepared in advance.

It was a battle blade named Shadow Strike, long and sharp, its edge clear and cold, shimmering with a faint silvery-white light, subtly imbued with exquisite spatial abilities. The blade possessed a unique teleportation technique: the wielder could lock onto any coordinate within their field of vision and instantly launch a spatial leap attack. The distance, accuracy, and environmental adaptability of the teleportation all depended on the wielder's mental energy.

With the Legion's talent for extreme speed, coupled with the Space Blade that strikes in an instant, Chagatai and the White Scar possess unparalleled combat power, allowing them to traverse the starry seas and move freely, becoming the sharpest and fastest assault spearhead in the Great Expedition.

The Milky Way stretches far and wide, and the winds never cease. As Chogoris's swift cavalry gallops on its journey across the stars, in the dark heart of the other side of the galaxy, another ill-fated planet lies dormant in eternal darkness.

Nostramo, an industrial city-state completely swallowed by eternal darkness.

Here, not a ray of sunlight shines through the year. Corrosive acid rain falls ceaselessly day and night, washing over the layers of rusted, mottled giant metal cities. A damp, thick black fog shrouds the entire planet, and colorful neon lights diffuse grotesque halos in the mist, barely piercing the thick, eternal night.

The entire planet has been utterly split into two extreme worlds. The upper-level hives are brightly lit, extravagantly decadent, where the nobles and tycoons who occupy high positions indulge in extreme pleasures and ruthlessly exploit the lower classes; the lower-level hives are filthy and dilapidated, where gang warfare, violent plunder, and bloody killings are ubiquitous, and corruption and evil are ingrained in every crack of metal. For millennia, order has completely collapsed, and fear is the only law of survival for the lower classes. Countless people are trapped in endless darkness and violence, unable to see a glimmer of light or hope.

Conrad Coates fell and grew in the deepest abyss of this darkness.

From childhood, he struggled amidst the sewage, garbage, and bloody battles of the haunted city, destitute and adrift. A strange, innate talent haunted him throughout his life—he could foresee endless death, discern hidden evil, and witness the process of every villain's wicked deeds, foreseeing their inevitable bloody end.

Enveloped by darkness and despair, he became a wandering judge of the eternal night. For countless years, he roamed alone through the crisscrossing streets and towering, lonely spires of the city, hunting down the world's sinners with cruel, decisive, and merciless methods. He used slaughter to deter rampant evil and used blood to maintain a fragile balance; he was the midnight ghost that the people of Nostradamo both feared and relied upon.

But the endless darkness, the ceaseless killing, and the ever-present premonition of death eroded his mind day after day. He grew increasingly paranoid in solitude and bloodshed, and gradually twisted in fate and despair, becoming the loneliest and most tormented solitary traveler in the entire eternal night.

On this endless night, amidst drizzling acid rain and thick black fog, a light and clear figure quietly descended upon the summit of Nostramore's highest hive tower.

The biting wind of the eternal night carried the heavy smell of rust and the stench of acid rain. Beneath his feet stretched a vast, sprawling labyrinth of cities, their lights flickering, concealing a multitude of sins. Huang Feng stood atop the tower, his gaze piercing through layers of black mist, landing precisely on the hunched, silent, and solitary figure at the edge of the tower.

The boy was thin and frail, surrounded by an inescapable gloom and deathly stillness. Countless shattered and tragic visions of death surged in his dark eyes, and he was completely trapped in the prison of eternal night and destiny.

At this moment, she found the eighth Primarch, Conrad Coates, who was trapped in darkness, cursed, and suffering countless hardships alone.