Daedren stood at the edge of the fortress, his eyes fixed on the horizon where Nocturne’s burning sky met the distant peaks. The ceremony was over, the ritual complete. He was now a neophyte, a step closer to becoming one of Vulkan’s sons, a Salamander. But even as the pride of that accomplishment filled him, there was a growing sense of unease in his chest.

He wasn’t going to stay with the others.

Sargo, Akeel, Thane, Kalith, and Varro would remain on Nocturne, serving as scouts for the 6th Company, honing their skills in reconnaissance and guerrilla warfare. But Daedren was being sent to Prometheus, the oversized moon of Nocturne, where he would receive the first six gene-seed implantations that would start to transform his body into that of a Space Marine.

The shuttle that would take him to Prometheus loomed in the distance, waiting.

Daedren’s mind was still reeling from the conversation he’d had with the drillmasters after the ceremony. He had asked why he was being sent away, why the others weren’t joining him on this next step. Their answer had left him with more questions than before.

“They’ve already received up to phase five of the gene-seed implantations,” the drillmaster had explained. “Their training as scouts is the next logical step. You, however, will need to undergo your first set of implants. Your body has proven worthy in the trials, and now it must be shaped into that of a true Astartes.”

Daedren had blinked, confused. “But why didn’t they tell me before? Why was I brought in without knowing the others were already ahead of me?”

The drillmaster’s eyes had been unreadable beneath his helmet. “Your path is different, Daedren. You were older when you began, but you showed promise. The others, they were recruited as children, and their bodies have been prepared since then. The implants up to phase five were introduced gradually as they grew. For you, the process must be faster. That’s why you are going to Prometheus.”

Now, as Daedren stood alone, the weight of what was about to happen settled in. He had heard stories about the gene-seed implantations, how they were a blend of science and ritual, a near-sacred process that would transform him into something more than human. But he also knew the risks. Not every implantation was successful. Some aspirants rejected the gene-seed, and the consequences were... fatal.

Taking a deep breath, Daedren made his way toward the shuttle. His mind churned with the names of the implants he would receive: the secondary heart, the ossmodula, the biscopea, the haemastamen, Larraman's organ and the Catalepsean node. They were the building blocks of the Astartes, designed by the Emperor himself to transform an ordinary human into a transhuman warrior. Each organ had a specific function, altering the body’s physiology to enhance strength, endurance, and survival in battle.

The shuttle doors hissed open as Daedren approached, and a lone figure awaited him inside, one of the senior Apothecaries of the Salamanders, his armor marked with the symbols of his sacred duty.

“Neophyte Daedren,” the Apothecary greeted him, his voice deep and solemn. “Come, your journey to Prometheus begins now.”

Daedren nodded, stepping inside. The shuttle’s interior was stark and utilitarian, a reminder of the unyielding nature of the Astartes. The door closed behind him with a heavy thud, sealing him in for the journey to Prometheus.

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The Apothecary took his seat across from Daedren, his eyes studying the young neophyte carefully. “I understand you have questions.”

Daedren hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, I do. The others, they’ve already had the first five implants. Why wasn’t I given those when I joined? Why do I need to go through this all at once?”

The Apothecary’s expression was unreadable beneath his helm, but his tone was patient. “The others began their journey younger than you, Daedren. Their bodies were still growing, and the gene-seed could be introduced gradually, allowing their physiology to adjust to the changes over time. By the time they reached the age of 13, they had already received the secondary heart, ossmodula, biscopea, haemastamen, and Larraman's Organ.”

Daedren clenched his fists slightly, feeling the unfamiliar weight of this revelation. “But I’m 16,” he said slowly. “Does that mean my body can’t handle the same process?”

“Not exactly,” the Apothecary replied. “Your body has proven resilient, but it also means the process will be more intense. The first six phases, those involving the heart, bones, and muscle, must be implanted quickly to accelerate your transformation. Your body will need to grow and adapt in a much shorter time than your comrades.”

The shuttle shuddered slightly as it lifted off from the surface of Nocturne, beginning its ascent toward Prometheus. Daedren watched through the small viewport as the landscape of his homeworld fell away beneath them, the fiery glow of the volcanoes fading into the distance.

“What happens during the implantations?” Daedren asked, his voice quiet.

The Apothecary leaned forward slightly. “The gene-seed is the essence of what makes us Astartes. It contains viral micro-machines, genetically engineered by the Emperor himself, designed to rebuild the human body according to the template of the Space Marines. These viral machines will enter your body and begin the process of transforming your physiology.”

Daedren nodded, his mind racing as the Apothecary continued.

“The secondary heart will grant you redundancy, allowing you to survive wounds that would kill a normal human. The ossmodula will alter your bones, strengthening them and encouraging rapid growth. The biscopea will enhance your muscles, increasing your strength exponentially. The haemastamen will alter your blood, allowing it to carry more oxygen and nutrients. Larraman’s Organ will ensure your wounds heal faster. The Catalepsean Node cuts in upon detecting a rise in stress and fatigue hormones. This allows you to consciously switch off sections of your brain, while remaining awake and alert. ”

The Apothecary paused, his gaze sharp. “But the process is not without its risks. Each implantation must be done with precision, and your body must accept the gene-seed. For the more neural implants, such as the catalepsean node, you must be awake, fully conscious, as your body and mind adapt. There will be pain, Daedren. More pain than you’ve ever known. But if you endure, you will be one step closer to becoming one of us.”

The words lingered in the air as the shuttle began its final approach to Prometheus. Daedren’s heart pounded in his chest. He knew this was part of the path he had chosen, but the thought of undergoing such a transformation filled him with a mix of anticipation and fear.

The shuttle touched down with a soft thud, and the doors opened to reveal the stark, obsidian-like surface of Prometheus. The Apothecary rose, gesturing for Daedren to follow.

“Come, neophyte,” he said. “Your transformation awaits.”

Daedren stepped out into the cold, thin air of Prometheus, his eyes scanning the dark, rocky landscape. The fortress that loomed ahead was a monolithic structure, carved from the very stone of the moon, its silhouette framed against the backdrop of space. It was here that the process of becoming a true Astartes would begin.

As they approached the fortress, Daedren felt the weight of what was to come settle on his shoulders. He thought of Sargo, Akeel, and the others back on Nocturne, already beginning their training as scouts. He thought of the gene-seed that now flowed within their bodies, shaping them into the warriors they were destined to become.

And soon, Daedren would take his place among them.

But first, he had to survive.

With a final breath, Daedren entered the fortress of Prometheus...