The Tale of the 41st Millennium

In the far future, there is no peace.
No respite, no forgiveness, no hope.
Only the eternal grind of war…
And the laughter of thirsting gods.

   Ten thousand years have passed since the Emperor was entombed upon the Golden Throne. His Imperium stretches across a million worlds, yet it is a decaying giant — vast in power, but rotting from within.

   The Emperor endures in silence, His broken body sustained by ancient machines, His mind a beacon in the Warp that guides humanity’s ships through the nightmare of the stars. To countless billions, He is not merely ruler, but god. His will is enforced by the Adeptus Terra, the vast bureaucracy of the Imperium, and defended by the Angels of Death — the Space Marines.

   But the galaxy is a crucible of horrors. The enemies of man are without number, and every victory bleeds the Imperium dry. From the Eye of Terror spill the Legions of Chaos, traitors and daemons born of the Horus Heresy, still waging their Long War. Across the stars, alien empires rise — the brutal Orks, the ancient and arrogant Aeldari, the soulless Necrons, the swarming Tyranids, and the cold, calculating T’au Empire.

   Even within, the Imperium rots. Heresy festers in the shadows, cults of the Warp corrupt entire worlds, and political intrigue strangles the Emperor’s work as surely as any xenos invasion. The Inquisition roots out threats with merciless zeal, declaring exterminatus on planets beyond saving.

   Yet humanity fights on. The Astra Militarum, countless mortal soldiers armed with faith and lasguns, hold the line against nightmares that could devour entire civilizations. The Adeptus Mechanicus plundered lost knowledge to keep the Imperium’s ancient technology from collapsing entirely. And the Space Marines, heirs to the Primarchs, strike where the battle is fiercest, each chapter a legend of war.

   In recent times, the galaxy has been torn asunder by the Great Rift, a vast Warp storm splitting the Imperium in two. Half lies stranded in darkness, cut off from the Emperor’s light, besieged by daemons and xenos. On the other hand, the reborn Primarch Roboute Guilliman leads the Indomitus Crusade, striving to hold the Imperium together.

   This is the forty-first millennium — an age without mercy, where every dawn may be the last, and every battle could be the one that ends mankind.

The stars burn, yet the night is endless.
The Emperor watches, though His eyes are closed.
And still the drums of war beat on…
For in the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war.