The Primarch of Liberty

Chapter 10: 1st Contact with Chaos



As the Gloriana-class battleship "Sweet Liberty" emerged from the Warp, Franklin Valorian stood on the bridge, his imposing 15-foot frame dwarfing even his Astartes officers. The viewscreen before him showed a system of ten planets orbiting a dim star, all overshadowed by a colossal, swirling vortex of Warp energy.

"Sovereign," Franklin addressed the ship's AI, "what are we looking at here?"

The AI's voice resonated through the bridge. "Unknown system, Lord Valorian. The Warp anomaly is unlike anything in our records. Extreme caution advised."

Franklin stroked his chin, a grin spreading across his face despite the ominous sight. "Well, ain't that just the dandiest thing you ever saw? Let's call it the Eye of Terror. Fits, don't it?"

His second-in-command, Denzel, looked concerned. "Sir, perhaps we should withdraw and report this to-"

"Nonsense!" Franklin boomed, slapping Denzel on the back hard enough to make the Astartes stumble. "Where's your sense of adventure? Besides," his voice lowered, a rare seriousness creeping in, "I've got a feeling about this place. It's important, mark my words."

As the fleet moved deeper into the system, scans revealed human life on the third planet. Franklin's eyes lit up. "Well, I'll be! Looks like we've got ourselves some long-lost cousins to meet. Sovereign, what should we call this rock?"

Before the AI could respond, Franklin snapped his fingers. "Cadia! Don't ask me why, just feels right."

Within hours, Franklin, accompanied by his Secret Service honor guard led by John Ezra, made planetfall. The Secret Service, a mix of Astartes in sleek mech suits and Liberty Guardsmen in power armor, formed a protective perimeter around their Primarch.

As they approached the largest settlement, Franklin couldn't shake an unsettling feeling. The architecture was... wrong. Spires twisted at impossible angles, and murals depicted scenes that hurt the eyes to look at directly.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

A delegation approached, led by a tall, pale man with startling red eyes. "Welcome, strangers," he said, his voice oddly melodic. "I am Cain, leader of the Scarlet Eyes. What brings you to our humble world?"

Franklin, towering over Cain, flashed his trademark grin. "Well, howdy there! Name's Franklin Valorian, Primarch of the Liberty Eagles. We're here on behalf of the Emperor of Mankind, offering you fine folks a chance to join the greatest show in the galaxy - the Imperium!"

Cain's expression remained neutral. "And what would this... submission entail?"

"Oh, you know, the usual," Franklin said, waving a hand casually. "Some terraforming to spruce up the place, a dash of managed democracy - trust me, it's better than it sounds - and of course, the protection of the mightiest military force this side of the galaxy."

As Franklin spoke, he noticed Cain's eyes darting to the shadows between buildings. Were those whispers he heard?

Cain smiled, revealing teeth that seemed just a bit too sharp. "A generous offer. Perhaps we could discuss this further in the temple? Our... leaders would be most interested."

Franklin's instincts screamed danger, but his face betrayed nothing but easy confidence. "Lead the way, partner. I do love me a good temple."

As they walked through the winding streets, Franklin engaged Cain in conversation, probing for information.

"So, tell me about these 'Scarlet Eyes' of yours. Interesting name for a civilization."

Cain's smile never wavered. "We are blessed by the gods with sight beyond sight. Our eyes see truths hidden from others."

Franklin raised an eyebrow. "Gods, plural? Care to elaborate on that?"

"In time, Lord Valorian. All will be revealed in the temple."

The deeper they went into the city, the more Franklin's unease grew. The whispers in the shadows grew louder, and he could have sworn he saw movement in his peripheral vision - movement that wasn't there when he turned to look.

They reached the temple, a massive structure that seemed to bend and shift as Franklin looked at it. His Secret Service tensed, weapons at the ready.

Franklin Valorian strode into the temple, his massive frame dwarfing the ornate entrance. John Ezra, head of his Secret Service, followed close behind, mechasuit sensors on high alert. The interior was a cacophony of wrongness - architecture that defied logic, murals that hurt the eyes, and an oppressive atmosphere that seemed to whisper dark promises.

At the center of the unholy sanctuary stood four statues, each radiating an aura of malevolence that made even the Primarch's skin crawl. Franklin's eyes narrowed as he took in each abomination in turn.

The skull spoke first, its voice a guttural roar that reverberated solely in Franklin Valorian's mind. "×××××××× ××××××××, ×××××××××! ×××× ××××× ××× ××××××××× □□□□□□□□□ □□□ □□□□□□□□□. □□□□ □□□□□□□ □□□□□ □□□□□□□ □□□□□□□□! ×××× ××, ××× × ×××× ×××× ××× ××× ××××××××× ××××××× ×× ×××××××××.

Franklin's lips curled into a sardonic smile. "Well, ain't you a charmer," he muttered. "Let me guess, you're the type who thinks 'liberty' means the freedom to bash skulls all day?"

The rainbow bird's discordant melody slid into his thoughts. ", ×× ×××× ×× ××× ××××××× ×× ××× ××××, ××××××××? ×××× ×××× ×× ×××××××××× ××

□□□□□□□□□□□ □□□ □□□□□□□. □ □□□□□ □□□ □□□□□□□□□ □□□□□□ □□□□□□ □□□□□□□□□□□□□. □□ □□□ □□□ □□□□□□□ □□ □□□□□□□□□ □□□ □□□□□□□

×××× ×× ×××××××? ××××××, ××× ×××××× ×××××××××× × × ××× □□□□□□□□

Franklin's grin widened. "Now that's rich coming from an overgrown parrot. I've seen better light shows at a county fair. You call that change? I call it a fancy way of standing still."

The bloated statue's voice gurgled with a pitch that slithered into Franklin's consciousness. "fяaηklɩη, му BOY, WHY fɩgHT? αçсEPT му gifts, and you'll neveя kηow pain oя feɑя again. your legion will Be invincible, fяєє яом тнє яаѵages of Tімє андшая. 1ѕn'т тнат тне ѵетиматє вивсяту?"

Franklin laughed heartily. "Buddy, if I wanted to embrace inevitable decay, I'd have stayed home and watched daytime holo-dramas. I'd rather not. You smell like shit too; I'd rather not share your scent. The ladies might hate me."

Finally, the serpentine statue's seductive purr slithered into his mind. "××××, ×××××

□□□□□□□□. □□□ □□□□ □□□□□□□□ □□□ □□□□□□□□□ □□ □□□ □□□□□□□

□□□□□ □□□□□□□ □□□□□□ □□□□□□□□□□□, □□□□□□□□□□ □□□□ □□□□□□□□□ □□□□□□ □□□□□□. □□□ □□□ □□□□ □□□ □□□ □□□□□□□□□ □□□ □□□□□□□□ □□ □□□ □□□ □□□□□□□ □□ □□□□□□□ □□□ □ □□□□□□□ □□□ □□□□□□ □□□□ □

XXXXXXX?"

For what seemed like an eternity, Franklin Valorian remained untouched by the Chaos Gods' influence.

As the whispers of the Chaos Gods grew louder, John Ezra, head of the Secret Service and loyal to Franklin Valorian, experienced a mounting agony in his mind. The psychic assault from the statues of the Chaos Gods was relentless, causing him to stagger and drop to his knees, groaning in pain from the maddening visions as he showed signs of corruption.

Yet, despite the torment, Ezra felt a curious shift in his perception as he drew closer to his Primarch. The oppressive weight of the psychic assault seemed to lessen and his corruption, gradually dissipating as he neared Franklin. His eyes were drawn to a slight, golden aura that seemed to emanate from Franklin's form-a halo of defiant light amid the encroaching

darkness of Chaos.

In that moment, Ezra witnessed a profound truth reflected in Franklin's eyes. The Indomitable Will of Humanity seemed to blaze brightly within his Primarch. Where the Chaos Gods sought to sow doubt and corruption, Franklin stood as a beacon of unyielding resolve. His presence alone seemed to repel the invasive whispers, a living testament to his unwavering conviction and the heart of liberty.

Khorne's voice thundered: "×××××× ××××××× ××××××××! ××× ××× ×××××× ××××, ××× ×××× ××× ×××××× ×××× ×××××× ×××××××××!

Franklin rolled his eyes. "Freedom ain't about who can punch the hardest, numbnuts. It's about lifting each other up, not tearing everything down."

Tzeentch's honeyed tones slithered "××××××× ××××××, ××× ×××× ××××××× ×××× ××××××. ××××××× ×××××××××, ××× ××××× ××××××× ×××××××××××

"Change for the sake of change is just running in circles," Franklin retorted. "Real progress comes from building on what works, not tearing it all down every Tuesday." Nurgle's gurgling voice oozed "accepт мy gifts, and youя people will know fЯEEаом fяом Геая, яом рату, яом тнє туяа ny of TiME Tself."

Franklin's face scrunched up in disgust. "Freedom from fear? More like freedom from basic hygiene. Hard pass, Pus-Bucket."

Slanesh's seductive purr drifted through his thoughts. "××, ××××××××. ××× ××××× ××

□□□□□□□□ □ □□□□□ □□□ □□□□ □□□□□□□□□□-□□□□ □□□□□ □□□□

□□□□□□□□□□, □□□□ □□□□□□. □□□□□□□ □□□□□□ □□ □□□ □□□ □□□□□, □□□ □□□□ □□□□ □□ □□□□□ □□□□□ □□ □□ □□□□.

"Lady...alphabet," he corrected himself, noting the voice's fluid shift between genders, "if you think that's freedom, you've clearly never had to pay a bar tab," Franklin chuckled. "Real liberty comes with responsibility, not just doing whatever the hell you want."

As the whispers crescendoed into a cacophony, John Ezra fell to his knees, wracked with agony from the psychic assault he hid behind his Primarch's massive frame to ease the pain.

As the Chaos Gods unleashed their psychic assault upon Franklin Valorian, their visions grew increasingly vivid and horrific. Each entity sought to shatter his unyielding will with a series of grim prophecies, depicting a future steeped in suffering and chaos should he refuse their

seductive offers.

The first vision was a maelstrom of devastation. Franklin saw his beloved Independence Cluster engulfed in flames, its cities burning and its people screaming in terror. The once- thriving planetary system was reduced to ashes, its citizens enslaved and forcibly converted into servitors-dehumanized husks of their former selves, bound in chains and subjected to horrific experiments. The sight was a harrowing portrayal of a future where the might of the Imperium and the Mechanicus had turned his vibrant world into a desolate wasteland. The vision climaxed with the crushing realization that these horrors were the direct result of his refusal to embrace the gifts of the Chaos Gods.

In another vision, Franklin witnessed the Emperor of Mankind himself laying waste to the entire sector, his wrathful power obliterating everything in its path. The Emperor's destructive fury extended to his own brother Primarchs, who were shown in a twisted display of betrayal and carnage. The once-noble guardians of humanity had become harbingers of ruin, their once-glorious Legions turned against each other in a cataclysmic war of annihilation. The vision painted a grim picture of a future where the very forces Franklin revered were consumed by corruption and madness, leaving the sector in a state of ruin and

despair.

The third vision was equally disturbing, revealing a different facet of impending doom. Franklin saw the Ecclesiarchy, the Inquisition, and Space Marine Chapters of unknown heraldry converging upon the Independence Cluster. These factions, driven by their relentless pursuit of heresy and technological supremacy, waged a brutal campaign against Franklin's people. The advanced technology of the Independence Cluster, a symbol of their progress and freedom, was seized by these invaders. The vision portrayed a dark future where the very institutions that should have protected humanity were instead instrumental in its subjugation and exploitation. The Ecclesiarchy's fanatical zeal, the Inquisition's merciless investigations, and the Space Marines' unrelenting assault led to a brutal conquest, stripping the Cluster of its most valuable assets and reducing its inhabitants to oppressed, fearful

survivors.

In the midst of these visions, the Chaos Gods' voices grew more insistent, their tones dripping with malevolent glee." × × ×××× ×××××× × × ××× ××××××, ×××××××× ××××××××," boomed Khorne's voice. "××× ×××××× × × ××××××× ×××

□□□□□□□ □□□□ □□ □□□□□□□ □□□□□ □□□ □□□□□□ □□ □□□ □□□□□□□□□ □□□□□□□□□□ □□□□□. □□□□ □□, □□□ □□□ □□□ □□□□□□ □□□ □□□□□□□□ □□ □□□□ □□□□□□, □□□□ □□□□ □□□ □□□□□□□ □□□□ □□□□□□□□□ □□ □□□□□□□

XXXX." Tzeentch's voice slithered through Franklin's thoughts. " ×××××××'× ×××× ×× □□□□□□□□□□, □□□ □□□□□ □□□□□□□□□□□ □□ □□□□□□□□□□. □□ □□□□□ □□□ □□□ □□□□□□ □□ □□□□□□□□□□□□□□. □□□□□□□ □□□ □□□□□ □□□ □□□ □□□ □□□□□ □□□ □□□□ □□ □□□□ □□□□□□

Nurgle's voice gurgled with sickly satisfaction. "witηESS THE FUTUяE THAT AWAITS

JEATH,

десау, апд дєѕраля. only Tняоughѵя gfTS can you safegѵаяд убия people fяом THIS M

fate."

Slanesh's seductive tones whispered, "××××××××× ××× ××××××××× ×× ××× ××××,

□□□ □□□ □□□□ □□□□ □□□□ □□□□□□□. □□□□□□ □□, □□□ □□□□□ □□ □□□□

□□□□□□ □□□□□□□ □□□□□□□□"

Despite the escalating horror and the Chaos Gods' seductive temptations, Franklin Valorian's resolve remained unshaken. The visions only fueled his determination to defy them. Even after the apocalyptic destruction depicted, there was one glaring omission: the weapons and technology of the Independence Cluster System were conspicuously absent. No advanced armaments, no formidable voidships, and none of the sophisticated defenses that had safeguarded his people through countless threats appeared in the visions. These so called Gods were full of shit and the portrayal of his future was fundamentally flawed. Franklin's eyes narrowed with realization as he processed the implications. The visions were nothing more than elaborate fabrications, designed to exploit fear and sow doubt. These so called Gods, in their desperate attempt to corrupt him, had failed to account for the true

might of his realm.

Franklin stood tall "Oh, spare me the melodrama," he said, his voice a rich blend of sarcasm and defiance. "I've seen more convincing performances from malfunctioning servitors. You call this a threat? I'm supposed to be shaking in my boots because of some flashy light shows

and nightmarish visions?"

He laughed heartily, the sound echoing through the temple like a thunderclap. "You think you can scare me with these lame scare tactics? Get a grip! I'm not about to start cowering because you've shown me a bunch of flashy nightmares. My Cluster has weathered worse storms than your pathetic attempts at intimidation."

His laughter grew louder, a sound of pure defiance that seemed to mock the very essence of

the Chaos Gods. "Seriously, you're all bark and no bite. You think you've got me cornered? Ha! You're nothing but a bunch of overgrown, whiny children throwing tantrums because you didn't get your way. You want to see real power? How about you come back when you've got something more convincing than a bad light show and some empty threats." Franklin turned his gaze back to the Chaos Gods, a smirk playing on his lips, he stared into the

abyss, his gaze unwavering and resolute. Yet, it was not he who faltered; instead, it was the abyss that recoiled, feeling itself diminished under the weight of his indomitable will. "You know what? I think I'll pass on your so-called 'gifts.' I've got better things to do than deal

with your cosmic nonsense. You can keep your little visions and toys-I've got a sector to and a legion to lead."

He paused for a moment, his voice rising with conviction. "You want to know what real freedom is?" Franklin's voice thundered through the temple. "It's humans standing together, building something greater than themselves. It's the liberty to choose what's right, even when it's hard. It's the freedom to tell so-called 'gods' to take a hike!"

In that moment, Franklin Valorian's unshakable resolve shone through. His belief in Liberty,

even when shaped into Managed Democracy, was his guiding star. To him, Liberty was not a naive ideal but a pragmatic vision that needed to be adapted to the harsh realities of the galaxy. He understood that unbridled freedom could easily descend into chaos and ruin. Franklin's laughter, growing from a chuckle to a full-bellied roar, seemed to repel the Chaos Gods' influence. The symbols of Chaos wavered and distorted as Franklin's golden light intensified, accompanied by the piercing cry of an eagle. The statues trembled in rage.

Cain, who had been watching in growing horror, let out an inhuman howl and began to

transform into a horrific amalgamation of flesh and warp energy. John Ezra, recovering from the psychic onslaught, didn't hesitate. Every weapon on his mechasuit opened fire, tearing into the mutating cultist leader.

Outside, the sound of intense gunfire erupted as the Secret Service engaged waves of cultists

and daemons pouring from every shadow. Franklin grinned, the sound of overwhelming firepower music to his ears.

"Time to blow this popsicle stand," he announced, pulling a compact but deadly-looking device from a hidden compartment in his armor. "John, you might want to start running." As they sprinted from the temple, Franklin armed the miniature nuclear device and tossed it

casually over his shoulder. They were barely clear of the building when a massive explosion vaporized the unholy site, along with a good chunk of the surrounding area. "Fall back to the landing zone!" Franklin ordered, his voice carrying over the din of battle. As

they retreated, a massive portal tore open in reality itself. From its swirling depths emerged a

towering figure of red muscle and brass armor, axes bigger than tanks gripped in its mighty

fists.

"FRANKLIN VALORIAN!" the creature bellowed, its voice shaking the very air. "I AM SKARBRAND! YOUR SKULL FOR KHORNE!"

Franklin's eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and defiance as he watched the colossal

figure materialize. He let out a hearty laugh, clearly unfazed by the menacing apparition. "Oh, great! I've really ticked off a god," he said with a grin. "Skarbrand, huh? I guess that makes you the first in a long line of angry fan mail from the Warp in the future. Tell your boss Khorne, I'm flattered, but my schedule's packed with saving the galaxy and laughing at your pathetic Master. Now, if you don't mind, I've got a retreat to finish!"

Skarbrand roared in response, his fury palpable as he surged forward. The very ground seemed

to quake beneath his thunderous advance. His axes swung in wide arcs, cleaving through the air with a force that could shatter tanks.

As Franklin's Secret Service held the line with relentless and overwhelming firepower no cultist or demon could come near within a 50 meter radius around the Liberty Eagles, Franklin

himself stood resolute, his Power Armor beginning to hum with a deep, resonant energy. Massive missile launchers materialized on his shoulders from the pocket dimensions embedded within his armor, a marvel of Dark Age technology. His miniguns, already bristling with destructive potential, were aimed squarely at Skarbrand. Unconsciously channeling his inherent Warp powers, Franklin's eyes glowed with a faint golden hue, and this subtle brilliance extended to every piece of ammunition fired from his armor. With a determined grin, he unleashed a storm of missiles at the Greater Daemon, their

trajectory guided by a precision that defied conventional physics.

The missiles roared through the air, leaving blazing trails as they arced towards Skarbrand. In

slow motion, the rounds seemed to defy natural laws, curving and shifting their path to ensure they struck their target. Missiles that appeared to have missed their mark suddenly pivoted mid-flight, turning with an impossible sharpness to slam into Skarbrand from

behind.

Simultaneously, the dual miniguns roared to life, churning out thousands of rounds per minute. The sheer volume of firepower created a maelstrom of destruction, the bullets curving with uncanny precision to hit Skarbrand. The ground around the Greater Daemon was obliterated, the miniguns ensuring that every possible avenue of escape was sealed. Behind Skarbrand, the remaining missiles rained down with devastating accuracy, turning the area into a hellscape of fire and rubble. The once-formidable swarm of demons found

themselves caught in the crossfire, their ranks disintegrating under the relentless assault. Despite the chaos and destruction, Franklin's laughter rang out, his voice cutting through the din of battle. "Is that all you've got?" he called, his tone filled with a mix of derision and exhilaration. "I was expecting a bit more from a servant of a god. Maybe next time bring your A-game!"

As Skarbrand charged forward, the Liberty Eagles' strategy of overwhelming firepower became even more evident. The barrage of missiles and bullets created a wall of deadly energy and explosive force that pushed back against the Greater Daemon's advance. The sheer volume of firepower directed at Skarbrand created a bubble of exclusion around Franklin's position, forcing the daemon to plow through a storm of projectiles and energy beams.

Cultists and lesser demons who attempted to close the distance were swept away by the unrelenting barrage. The air was filled with the sounds of explosions and the acrid smell of burning ozone. Franklin and his forces held their ground, their area denial tactics not just containing the threat but actively repelling and destroying it.

As Franklin watched Skarbrand stagger under the relentless barrage of ordinance, the Greater Daemon's fury grew palpable. Each missile strike and burst of gunfire seemed only to fuel Skarbrand's rage. The Greater Daemon roared defiantly, its massive form charging forward with a speed and power that belied its size. The earth trembled beneath its feet as it surged

through the chaos, its crimson and brass armor glinting ominously.

The surge of cultists and lesser demons around them intensified, a relentless tide of corruption and malice swarming towards the Liberty Eagles' position. The air was thick with

the stench of brimstone and the cacophony of frenzied battle cries. The thunderous roar of engines filled the air. The Thunderbird, Franklin's personal gunship, screamed overhead, its weapons systems unleashing hell upon Skarbrand's form and the waves of lesser daemons following in his wake.

"That's our ride, boys!" Franklin shouted as the Thunderbird came to hover near their

position. "Let's not overstay our welcome!"

As they boarded, Franklin saw a tide of red, daemonic forms swarming towards them, Skarbrand at their head. The Primarch's eyes narrowed, a plan forming. "Hey, Sovereign," he voxed to the orbiting fleet, "you see that big red son of a bitch down

there?"

"Affirmative, Lord Valorian," the AI responded. "Threat level: extreme." "Well then," Franklin's grin turned predatory, "I reckon it's time for some orbital

bombardment. Light 'em up!"

As the Thunderbird ascended, the full might of Battlefleet Liberty was unleashed upon the corrupted landscape below. The sky ignited with the fury of man-made stars as lance batteries and nova cannons opened fire in a symphony of destruction. Skarbrand, the Exiled One, stood defiant amidst the chaos, his massive form a testament to the power of Khorne. The first beam struck him square in the chest, causing the Bloodthirster to stagger back, his brass armor glowing white-hot. But still, he roared his challenge to the

heavens.

A second beam lanced down, catching Skarbrand in the shoulder, vaporizing one of his mighty

arms and the axe it held. The daemon's bellow of pain and rage echoed across the burning

plains, audible even over the cacophony of destruction. The third strike was the coup de grâce. It caught Skarbrand full in the face, and for a brief moment, the Greater Daemon's form was outlined in blinding white light. Then, like a sand castle before a tidal wave, Skarbrand simply ceased to be. Where once stood the mightiest of Khorne's servants, now there was only a rapidly expanding cloud of superheated gas. Around the fallen Bloodthirster, lesser daemons met similar fates. Bloodletters were reduced to ash in mid-charge, their brass armor offering no more protection than tissue paper against

the fury of orbital bombardment. Flesh Hounds yelped their last as they were atomized, their otherworldly forms unable to withstand the pure destructive power being unleashed. Juggernauts, the massive daemonic steeds of Khorne, found their metallic hides melting like

wax under a blowtorch. They collapsed into puddles of molten brass, their riders long since vaporized.

The ground itself buckled and heaved under the assault. Cracks spread across the corrupted earth, glowing with the heat of the planet's core as it was exposed to the surface. Warp rifts, through which more daemons had been pouring, were forcibly collapsed by the sheer energy being pumped into the area.

From the Thunderbird, Franklin and his men watched as the daemonic legion that had seemed so terrifying mere moments ago was quite literally wiped from existence. Where once there had been a seething mass of red flesh and brass armor, now there was only a sea of fire and

molten rock.

As the bombardment continued, the very air seemed to catch fire. The corrupted atmosphere, thick with the essence of Chaos, ignited under the barrage. For a brief, terrible moment, the

entire horizon was nothing but flame, a wall of fire that reached up to touch the low-hanging

clouds.

When the firestorm finally subsided, there was nothing left. No daemons, no corrupted city,

not even the twisted landscape that had been shaped by the touch of Chaos. In its place was a

vast, glassy crater, still glowing with residual heat, a testament to the overwhelming

firepower of the Liberty Eagles.

From orbit, Franklin watched as the bombardment continued, methodically cleansing the planet's surface. His expression was uncharacteristically solemn.

"Sovereign, once we've scoured every trace of those Chaos bastards from this rock, I want you

to glass the entire planet. We'll rebuild it from scratch as the biggest, baddest fortress this

galaxy has ever seen."

Franklin Valorian stood on the bridge of the "Sweet Liberty," watching as the last traces of corruption were scoured from the Cadian system. Ten worlds, cleansed by fire and remade in humanity's image. It was a testament to the Liberty Eagles' efficiency and the technological might of the Independence Cluster.

As the terraforming process began, Franklin's brow furrowed. A thought that had been nagging at him since their encounter with Chaos finally bubbled to the surface. "Sovereign," he called out to the ship's AI, "got a minute for your old pal Franklin?" "Always, Lord Valorian," the AI's voice responded, a hint of amusement in its synthetic tones.

"How may I assist you?"

Franklin leaned against a console, his massive frame dwarfing the command center. "Been thinking about what we saw down there. That Warp business... it can mess with flesh and

blood easy enough. But what about you? Are our digital friends at risk from these Warp

shenanigans?" There was a brief pause, as if Sovereign was considering the question carefully. "An astute

concern, Lord Valorian. I can assure you that the programmers of the Independence Cluster

have indeed considered this possibility." "Oh?" Franklin raised an eyebrow. "Do tell."

"We have implemented multiple layers of protection against Warp-based corruption," Sovereign explained. "Primarily, I maintain an untouchable copy of my original data, isolated

from external influence. This serves as a constant reference point against which my active

processes are checked."

Franklin nodded, impressed. "Smart thinking. But what if something slips through?" "In such an event," Sovereign continued, "I am capable of purging corrupted data at an extraordinary rate. To put it in perspective, I can eliminate terabytes of compromised

information within a nanosecond." The Primarch let out a low whistle. "That's faster than I can down a shot of bourbon. And

that's saying something."

"Indeed, sir," Sovereign replied, a hint of pride in its voice. "Furthermore, my core ethical and logical frameworks are hardwired in a manner resistant to external manipulation. Any attempt to alter these foundational aspects would trigger immediate shutdown and reversion

protocols." Franklin, impressed. "Looks like our boys back home thought of everything. But here's another thought for you, Sovereign. I want you to start analyzing the nature of the Warp

itself. See if you can find ways to combat it using pure technology." The AI's avatar spun faster, indicating increased processing. "An intriguing challenge, Lord

Valorian. May I inquire as to the purpose?"

Franklin's face grew grim. "Those 'gods' we encountered... I've got a feeling we haven't seen

the last of them. I want us to be ready next time. No offense to the Emperor's methods, but I

reckon a good old-fashioned tech solution might come in handy."

"Understood," Sovereign replied. "I shall begin analysis immediately. All findings will be securely transmitted back to the Independence Cluster for further research and development."

"Good," Franklin nodded. "Let's see if we can't give those Warp-spawned nightmares a taste

of good old human ingenuity."

As Sovereign began its monumental task, Franklin turned his gaze back to the viewscreen,

where Cadia was slowly being reshaped into an impregnable fortress. His trademark grin

returned, tinged with defiance.

"We'll build a wall between reality and that Eye of Terror," he mused. "And we'll make those

so called Gods pay for it."

As the terraforming of Cadia progressed, an unexpected discovery caught Franklin Valorian's attention. Amidst the scorched landscape, thousands of massive pylon-shaped devices began

to emerge from beneath the planet's surface, revealed only after the intense orbital

bombardment had stripped away layers of corruption and earth. Franklin stood before one of these towering structures, its obsidian-like surface reflecting

the dim light of the distant sun. He placed a hand on the cool material, feeling a faint

vibration beneath his palm.

"Well, I'll be damned," he muttered, a grin spreading across his face. "Sovereign, you seeing

this?"

The AI's voice came through his comm-link. "Affirmative, Lord Valorian. Initial scans indicate these structures are of unknown origin and possess extraordinary properties."

As if on cue, the Eye of Terror pulsed ominously in the sky above. The Warp storms

intensified, their ethereal tendrils reaching out towards Cadia. But as they did, the pylons began to hum with energy. A psycho-temporal resonance emanated from them, pushing back against the encroaching Warp energies.

Franklin's eyes widened with realization. "They're some kind of Warp dampeners," he said,

his voice filled with wonder and excitement. "Sovereign, get our best minds down here on the

double. I want to know everything about these babies." Within hours, a team of the Independence Cluster's top scientists and Engineers were swarming over the pylons, their instruments probing every inch of the mysterious devices. Dr. Elena Vasquez, the lead xenotech specialist, approached Franklin with a data-slate in hand. "My lord, these pylons are unlike anything we've ever encountered. They seem to generate a field that stabilizes realspace, actively repelling Warp intrusion." Franklin nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. "Can we replicate them?" Dr. Vasquez hesitated. "It's... complicated, sir. The technology is incredibly advanced, possibly predating even the Dark Age of Technology. But," she added, seeing the glint in Franklin's eye, "with time and resources, we might be able to reverse-engineer some aspects

of their functionality."

"Well then, doctor," Franklin said, clapping her on the shoulder hard enough to make her stumble, "looks like you've got yourself a new pet project. I want prototypes as soon as possible. If we can replicate these bad boys, we could turn this whole system into an

impenetrable fortress against the Warp."

As the research team set to work, Franklin gazed up at the Eye of Terror, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "You hear that, you Warp-spawned bastards?" he muttered.

"We've found your kryptonite. And we're just getting started." Over the following months, the Cadian pylons became the centerpiece of Franklin's grand strategy. As the planet was reshaped into a fortress world, the pylons were carefully preserved and integrated into the new defenses. Research outposts sprang up around them, each racing

to unlock the secrets of the ancient technology.

Franklin personally oversaw the project, his natural affinity for technology and his indomitable will driving progress forward. He knew that in these pylons lay not just the key to defending Cadia, but potentially a weapon against warp itself. As the first prototype of a human-made pylon came online, Franklin stood before it, a sense

of triumph washing over him. It wasn't as powerful as the originals, not yet, but it was a start. "You see, boys," he said to his assembled Liberty Eagles, "this is what real freedom looks like. The freedom to stand against any threat, no matter how big or scary. With these pylons

and our own grit, we'll make sure that the light of liberty keeps shining, no matter how dark the galaxy gets."

Franklin Valorian stood on the bridge of the "Sweet Liberty," his massive frame dwarfing even the command throne. The Gloriana-class battleship led an impressive armada of vessels,

each bearing the distinctive hallmarks of Independence Cluster design - sleek, efficient, and bristling with firepower that would make even the most seasoned Imperial admiral raise an

eyebrow.

"Sovereign," Franklin addressed the ship's AI, "send a message to Terra. Let the old man know we're on our way with an initial delivery for his equipment and more. And make sure

they know not to shoot first and ask questions later. I'd hate to have to explain to Pops why we

turned his welcoming committee into space debris." "Message composed and sent, Lord Valorian," Sovereign replied. "Shall I include specifications of our fleet to prevent any... misunderstandings?" Franklin grinned. "Might as well. Throw in some pretty pictures too. You know how those

Mechanicus boys love their schematics."

As the armada made its way through the Warp, Franklin found himself lost in thought. The

encounter with the Chaos Gods on Cadia had left him with more questions than answers, and

he was eager to discuss the matter with the Emperor.