Space Marine in Star Wars (Warhammer X Star Wars)

===Maximus===

Outside the Senate chamber, the Astartes met with the remaining Mandalorian soldiers, who had remained behind while their commanders had entered the chamber. The group began their march toward their waiting ships, with Maximus barking orders to the Death Watch to prepare for the impending war with the Hutts. His voice was calm, but firm.

Suddenly, a group of figures emerged from one of the side corridors, stopping dead in front of them. Leading the group was Mace Windu, flanked by a contingent of Jedi. They had clearly come to confront the Astartes, though Master Yoda was not among them.

Windu stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he addressed the Space Marines. "That's far enough."

Maximus gave no indication that he'd even heard the Jedi Master's words. Without hesitation, he continued walking until he was directly in front of Windu, towering over him with a cold and imposing presence. The red glow of his optics seemed to intensify, and the sheer intensity of his gaze made Windu feel an uncomfortable weight pressing on his chest.

Windu felt a strange chill at the back of his mind, as if something intangible was pulling at the very air around him. His confidence faltered, and for the first time, he found himself questioning his place. He couldn't sense the Force properly around the Astartes — it was as if something was actively severing his connection to it. The feeling was unnerving.

"Who are you to give me orders?" Maximus growled, his voice deep and almost otherworldly.

For a moment, Windu could only stare up at him, at a loss for words. The power emanating from the Ultramarine was suffocating. Windu couldn't remember the last time someone had made him feel so... small… cut off.

"That's what I thought. Now move, or I will move you." The Ultramarine commanded.

"You will do no such thing." Windu's voice regained some of its former authority. "You speak of justice, but you… you and your kind know nothing of it." He pointed an accusing finger at Sebastian, who stood just behind Maximus.

"You call others hypocrites, but you—" Windu's finger jabbed into Maximus' chest, "—are the worst kind of hypocrite."

Maximus' patience snapped. With a sudden, fluid motion, he grabbed Windu by the front of his robes, effortlessly lifting the Jedi off the ground until their eyes met at eye level. The Jedi Master's breath hitched, and he struggled to break free of the Astartes' iron grip. Maximus' strength was beyond anything Windu had ever felt, and the sensation of the void intensified, seeming to drain him of his strengths.

The Mandalorians behind them reacted immediately, drawing their weapons. The Jedi responded in kind, their lightsabers igniting in a flash of blue and green light, illuminating the space around them. The tension in the air grew thick, like the calm before a storm.

"You would do well to watch what you say, boy," Maximus growled. "Unlike my brother, I will not stop with your arm."

Windu winced at the pressure from the Astartes' anger, as if every inch of his body was being crushed beneath an invisible weight. His connection to the Force felt weak, slipping away with every passing second in the Astartes' grasp. The Force, something he had relied upon for so long, felt distant and cold.

With a disgusted snort, Maximus dropped Windu unceremoniously to the ground. Windu hit the floor hard, gasping for air, his hand instinctively reaching for his saber. He glared up at the towering figure before him, but Maximus paid him no mind.

"Lower your weapons, or I will personally kill each one of you," Maximus barked to the Jedi, his voice like thunder.

The Jedi hesitated, but none of them made a move to lower their weapons. Windu remained on the ground, wiping the blood from his nose as he stood shakily to his feet, anger flashing in his eyes.

Maximus' eyes narrowed, his muscles coiling with the quiet fury of a predator. He felt something in the air shift. A wave of energy—no, his energy—began to spread outwards, and suddenly, the Jedi and Mandalorians around them crumpled to the floor with anguished cries. The pain was unbearable. Even the Mandalorians faltered, clutching their heads in agony as Maximus' aura expanded, suffusing the space around them like a vast, invisible storm.

His brothers remained unmoving, their training keeping them steady even as the void expanded. They could feel it too—Maximus' aura, filling the air with what felt like a black hole. Their minds were strong enough to resist the pressure, but they could still feel the discomfort of it. It was a weapon more powerful than any blade.

Maximus took a deep breath, forcing his emotions back into their proper place. Slowly, the pain abated as his aura retracted, leaving the Jedi and Mandalorians writhing on the floor.

Looking down at Windu, Maximus' expression was one of utter disdain. "Look at you," he muttered, his voice cold. "So weak. So small."

He took a step over the man, his brothers following silently behind him as they continued walking towards their ships. The Jedi, still recovering, struggled to rise, but Windu's voice echoed out, a final challenge in the silence.

"You think you can just walk away after attacking us?" Windu spat, wiping the blood from his nose.

Maximus felt something shift in the air. A sudden tension rippled outward, and the Jedi, still struggling to regain their composure, sensed it as well. Before Maximus could take another step, Mace Windu raised his hand, reaching out with the Force to pull the massive Space Marine back.

Maximus felt the attempt—a tugging sensation that sought to bind him, to draw him towards the Jedi Master. But it was like wisps of smoke rolling off his power armor, a faint pressure that didn't even scratch the surface of his resolve. Windu's Force grasp was weak, almost ineffective against the sheer indomitable presence that Maximus projected.

"You dare try and touch me with your sorceries?" Maximus' voice was cold, deadly, as if the very air had turned frigid around them. His eyes flashed with contempt. "I will make you listen to me one way or another," Windu growled, his own anger flaring as he pressed harder with the Force.

Maximus snorted, unimpressed. He could feel the Force surrounding him, attempting to latch on, but it wasn't enough. His own soul, an endless void contained within the power of his enhanced body, was too much. The Force could not bind him. His armor, his mind, and his will were forged in a way that not even the most skilled Jedi could break.

"I will not, and do not listen to lesser men." Maximus' voice dripped with scorn, the finality of his words cutting through the tension. "Now be on your way, while we be on ours."

With that, Maximus turned and continued walking, his footsteps echoing in the corridor as if to seal his resolve. Windu's hand, still outstretched, trembled with the force of his frustration. He watched, seething, as the Astartes ignored him, leaving him and his Jedi comrades behind in the dust of their own defeat.

The Jedi remained motionless, the weight of their failure hanging heavily in the air. Windu's anger surged, but even he knew the battle had been lost before it had even begun. The Astartes had not just defeated them physically; they had crushed their very spirit, leaving them impotent in the wake of their strength.

As Maximus and his brothers made their way toward their ships, the Mandalorians following in their wake, the Jedi stood in stunned silence. For the first time in years, Mace Windu questioned the balance of power. The Jedi might wield the Force, but it was clear that the Astartes wielded something far more dangerous—a force of will that could not be measured in mere power.

And as Maximus led his men away, the Jedi could only watch, their presence dwarfed by the sheer might of the warrior in front of them.

===Guilliman===

Walking the halls of the Golden Palace, Roboute Guilliman's mind was far from the present. The weight of what he had learned from his father, the Emperor, hung heavily on him. The Emperor's shattered psyche had somehow gathered itself to show him something beyond the known universe, a dimension where there was no Chaos, no Ruinous Powers that had tainted the stars with their corruption. There was a purity to this universe—a power unlike anything they had known before, a new force they could tap into, one that could change the fate of humanity.

The Emperor had shown him more than that, though. He had shown him a vision of one of his sons who had been lost to the Warp: a decorated Ultramarine who had fought with honor and loyalty.

Beside him walked Captain General Valoris of the Adeptus Custodes, the Emperor's personal guard, a silent sentinel at his side. The two moved through the gilded halls of the palace, the gold and marble reflecting their solemn pace. Neither spoke as they walked; the weight of their recent experiences—the Emperor's revelations, the brokenness of the Imperium—hung over them both. They had witnessed the Emperor's command firsthand, and it was one that would reshape the course of history.

Guilliman broke the silence, his voice low and contemplative. "Tell me, Valoris. What do you think of this plan?"

Valoris didn't answer immediately. His eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the empty halls, as though weighing each word before speaking. He was not one for rash answers, especially when it came to matters of such grave importance. His silence stretched for a moment longer than Guilliman expected, and when he finally spoke, it was with the careful thought of a strategist.

"The Emperor cannot leave the Golden Throne. How are we to get him to the universal tear?" Valoris asked, his tone measured, yet with an undercurrent of concern.

Guilliman's expression faltered slightly, the burden of uncertainty seeping through his usual composure. He stopped walking for a moment, glancing at the intricate, hollowed-out statues of past warriors s that lined the walls, their stony faces watching over the Imperial Palace. He sighed deeply, an exhalation that was rare for a man who had always prided himself on his stoicism.

"Either we bring the tear to him," Guilliman replied slowly, his voice heavy with the weight of the decision, "or we bring him to it."

The words hung in the air, their implications as vast and uncharted as the stars themselves. Guilliman's shoulders sagged for the briefest of moments, and the cracks in his usually unshakable demeanor became visible. For a fleeting instant, it seemed as though he was a man lost in thought, unsure of the right path.

Valoris studied him for a moment, sensing the rare vulnerability. "You doubt the Emperor's will, my lord?" Valoris asked, his voice soft, but sharp as ever. "Or is it the execution of such a plan?"

Guilliman shook his head, looking away. "It is not doubt. It is... uncertainty. We are not what we once were, Valoris. The Imperium is fractured. The Emperor is bound, and so many of my brothers are lost to the past or to madness. To even consider this path is… a risk I have not taken lightly."

Valoris remained silent, the weight of the words settling between them. The Captain General knew all too well the consequences of failure, the consequences of straying too far from the Emperor's original vision. He was not one to underestimate the stakes of their current situation. Still, he was loyal to Guilliman—trusted in his judgment.

"The Emperor's vision... If it is true, we may have no choice but to take such a risk," Valoris finally said. "The tear... and this new power. It could be the key to the survival of humanity."

Guilliman's gaze hardened. He could feel the weight of the Custodes' words, and he knew deep down that this was the only path forward. But the road was fraught with dangers—some known, many unknown—and if the Emperor could not leave the Golden Throne, they would have to move heaven and earth to get him what he needed.

"I know," Guilliman said quietly, his gaze returning to the long corridors ahead. "But I will not gamble with the Imperium's future unless I am certain that it is worth the cost. We may be able to tap into this new power, Valoris. But we will need every resource, every ally, and every bit of our strength to ensure the Emperor's vision becomes reality."

Valoris nodded, though he knew that even with all their might, success was not guaranteed. The universe had never been more unstable. The future was a chaotic unknown.

"Then we will be ready, my lord," Valoris said simply. "As always."

Guilliman glanced at him, the fire of determination rekindling in his eyes. "We are not as we once were, Valoris. But perhaps, together, we can forge something greater."

"Prepare your brethren. We may need every soldier if we are to succeed."

And with that, the two continued walking through the halls, the weight of the galaxy pressing down on their shoulders. The path ahead was unclear, but Guilliman knew one thing for certain—there was no turning back.

End of Arc One.

(A/N: Oh boy oh boy am I excited for what's to come.

Next chapter is going to be a reflection of arc one that i will post tomorrow or Saturday.

I think I have made the decision to not bring in a Primarch or a Custodes in YET. However I do have an idea in which we might be able to have the best of both worlds. This might be considered spoilers, but I have absolutely no idea how to make this decision.

What I was thinking, is bringing in a Custodes, but then killing him off in a super crazy way that would be satisfying. I fully understand that they would be almost like demi-gods in Star Wars, which is why I don't want to bring them in just yet.

I want to have an actual story to write, and not just a curb stomp fic (as much as that would be fun.) So tell me your thoughts. I'm leaning in the direction of not bring one in, just because I don't wanna kill him off, but at the same time…

What do you all think? I could go either way.

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200 PS = 1 extra chapter

300 PS = 2 extra chapters

If you enjoyed this chapter, maybe consider leaving me with a couple of your power stones? I promise I'll take good care of them:)