The Primarch of Liberty

Chapter 57: More Training and a New System



The twin suns of the barren world cast long shadows across the desolate landscape as Franklin Valorian, Primarch of the Liberty Eagles, faced off against the spectral form of Eldanesh once more. Sweat beaded on his brow, his muscles aching from days of relentless combat. Yet, as he raised his sword, there was a glint of determination in his eyes.

Eldanesh moved with impossible grace, his blade a blur of motion. Franklin parried the first strike, only to feel the ground beneath his left foot suddenly give way. Where solid rock had been moments before, there was now a viscous, jelly-like substance. The Primarch stumbled, his superhuman balance barely keeping him upright.

"Always be aware of your surroundings," Khaine's voice echoed in his mind. "The Immaterium can reshape reality at a whim."

Franklin gritted his teeth, forcing himself to adapt to the unstable footing. He lashed out with a counterattack, but Eldanesh was no longer there. The Aeldari warrior shimmered, his form splitting into three identical images.

"Which one is real?" Franklin muttered, his enhanced senses straining to detect any flaw in the illusion.

He chose wrong. As he committed to an attack against one of the images, the real Eldanesh struck from behind. Franklin felt a searing pain across his back, the spectral blade carrying the illusion of a grievous wound.

"Too slow!" Khaine barked. "You must learn to see beyond what your eyes tell you!"

Franklin spun, bringing his sword up in a defensive stance. He reached out with his psychic senses, trying to feel the flow of the Immaterium around Eldanesh. For a brief moment, he thought he had it - a flicker of otherworldly energy that betrayed the Aeldari's true position. But Eldanesh was already moving again. This time, as their blades met in a shower of ethereal sparks, Franklin felt a horrifying sensation in his abdomen. It was as if his internal organs had suddenly rearranged themselves, twisting into impossible configurations.

The Primarch doubled over, gasping. Logically, he knew it was an illusion, but the pain and disorientation felt all too real. In that moment of weakness, Eldanesh struck again, his blade slipping past Franklin's guard to score a hit across his chest.

"Protect yourself!" Khaine roared. "Your mind is your first and last line of defense against such attacks!"

Franklin fell to one knee, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He could feel the phantom pain of a dozen illusory wounds, each one a stark reminder of his inadequacy in the face of Eldanesh's mastery.

"Stand up," Khaine commanded, his voice a mixture of frustration and encouragement. "You are a Primarch, face him again!"

With a monumental effort, Franklin pushed himself back to his feet. He raised his sword once more, ignoring the protests of his battered body. This time, as Eldanesh attacked, Franklin focused on creating a psychic shield around himself, a barrier against both physical and mental assaults.

The duel resumed, a deadly dance of blade and will. Eldanesh's attacks came from impossible angles, reality itself seeming to bend around him. One moment, he would appear to be striking from the left, only for the blow to land from the right. Franklin found himself constantly off-balance, struggling to keep up with the ever-changing nature of the fight. Yet, slowly, incrementally, he began to adapt. Where before he had relied solely on his physical prowess and the sword techniques Khaine had taught him, now Franklin started to incorporate elements of Eldanesh's style. He learned to use small bursts of psychic energy to create momentary illusions of his own, feinting in one direction while attacking from another.

"Better," Khaine nodded approvingly. "But not good enough. Again!"

Days turned into weeks, and still the training continued. Franklin lost count of the number of times he had fallen, only to drag himself back to his feet at Khaine's insistence. Each session left him battered and exhausted, his body and mind pushed to their limits and beyond.

But with each defeat, each harsh lesson, Franklin grew stronger. His mastery over his psychic abilities increased, allowing him to better defend against Eldanesh's reality-warping attacks. His swordsmanship evolved, blending Khaine's aggressive style with elements of Eldaneshi finesse.

Yet, for all his improvement, Franklin was under no illusion about the gap that still existed between himself and his spectral opponent. Eldanesh moved with a grace and supernatural skill that defied the laws of physics, each motion unpredictable and at times unstoppable and innumerable. His mastery over the Immaterium was absolute, allowing him to reshape reality on a whim.

In Eldanesh, Franklin saw the pinnacle of martial prowess, a standard of excellence that he could spend lifetimes striving towards. It was humbling and inspiring in equal measure. As another grueling session came to an end, Franklin found himself on his back once more, staring up at the alien sky. His body ached, and his mind buzzed with the lingering effects of Eldanesh's psychic assaults.

Khaine's face appeared in his field of vision, the god's expression a mixture of satisfaction and impatience. "You're improving, Primarch. But you still have a long way to go." Franklin managed a weak chuckle. "I'm beginning to think that 'a long way' might be an understatement."

"Perhaps," Khaine conceded. "But consider this - few beings in the history of this galaxy have ever managed to last as long against Eldanesh as you now can. Take pride in that, even as you strive to improve further, 5 minutes and 7 seconds Primarch you're getting there"

As Franklin struggled to his feet, he cast a glance at the silent form of Eldanesh. The Aeldari warrior stood motionless, his ancient eyes betraying no emotion.

"I'm ready," Franklin said, raising his sword once more. "Let's go again."

As Franklin's vision faded to black for the hundredth time, he found himself in a familiar void. The pain of his latest defeat lingered, a phantom reminder of his inadequacy.

"How is this possible?" Franklin asked, his voice echoing in the emptiness. "How can I die so many times?"

Khaine's laughter reverberated through the void. "Oh, my stubborn pupil. You're not truly dying - I'm sharing with you the deaths of the souls I've consumed. Each one a lesson, each one a chance to grow stronger."

Franklin absorbed this information, a mix of fascination and horror washing over him. He had known that gods like Khaine drew power from worship and souls, but experiencing it firsthand was something else entirely.

As he prepared himself for yet another round, a thought nagged at the back of his mind. There was something building within him, a power he couldn't quite grasp.

The void faded, and Franklin found himself once again facing Eldanesh. The Aeldari warrior's blade danced through the air, reality warping around it. Franklin raised his sword, bracing for

the impact.

But this time, something was different.

As Eldanesh's blade descended, Franklin felt a surge of power from deep within. It was as if a dam had broken, releasing a flood of raw, untapped potential. In that moment, driven by sheer force of will, Franklin did the impossible.

He made Eldanesh stop.

The Aeldari warrior froze mid-strike, his blade mere inches from Franklin's face. The warp energies that had been swirling around them suddenly stilled, as if held in check by an

invisible force.

Franklin blinked in surprise, not quite believing what he was seeing. He had willed it to happen, and it had. For a brief, glorious moment, he had imposed his will upon reality itself. Khaine's booming laughter broke the silence. "By the Asuryan, imposing his will on reality!" Eldanesh unfroze, leaping back with a grace that belied his surprise. Even the legendary Aeldari warrior seemed taken aback by this turn of events.

Franklin stared at his hands, feeling the new power coursing through him. It was familiar, yet different from anything he had experienced before. It reminded him of the sure-hit effect he could apply to his guns, but this... this was something more.

"What... what just happened?" Franklin asked, his voice filled with awe and confusion.

Khaine materialized beside him, a fierce grin on his face. "What happened, my dear Primarch,

is that you've tapped more into your inner warp god. All those deaths, all those lessons - they've awakened more within you."

Franklin's mind raced with the implications. He had always known he possessed tremendous psychic potential, but this felt different. This wasn't just about manipulating the warp; it was about imposing his will upon it.

"I don't understand," Franklin said. "I thought I could only never miss with my guns. How

did I stop Eldanesh?"

Khaine's grin widened. "Primarch. You've barely scratched the surface of your potential. Your guns were just the beginning. What you did just now - that was pure, unadulterated will made

manifest."

As if to test this new power, Franklin focused on Eldanesh again. With a thought, he attempted to freeze the Aeldari warrior once more. This time, Eldanesh was prepared. The legendary duelist countered with his own mastery of the warp, slipping through Franklin's attempt like water through cupped hands.

"It won't be that easy again," Khaine chuckled. "Eldanesh has faced gods before...particularly me, But the fact that you managed it even once... well, that's something special." Franklin nodded, a new determination filling him. He raised his sword, focusing on the blade. If he could apply the sure-hit effect to his guns, why not to his sword as well? The air around the blade shimmered as Franklin poured his will into it. When he swung, the sword moved with an unnatural surety, as if its path had been predetermined. Eldanesh parried the blow, but Franklin could see the effort it took. The Aeldari's eyes narrowed, a new respect glimmering in their depths.

"Good, good!" Khaine exclaimed. "You're learning to apply your gifts in new ways. But remember, Eldanesh is a master of the warp as well. He can counter your causality manipulation, but it will cost him. Use that to your advantage."

The duel resumed with renewed intensity. Franklin found himself pushing boundaries he

didn't even know existed. When Eldanesh attempted to warp reality around them, Franklin countered with his own will, forcing the world to remain stable. When the Aeldari created illusions, Franklin burned them away with a thought.

It wasn't a complete transformation. Franklin still found himself outmatched more often than not. Eldanesh's millennia of experience couldn't be overcome in multiple sessions spanning weeks. But for the first time since their training began, Franklin felt like he was truly

holding his own.

As the twin suns began to set, casting long shadows across the barren landscape, Khaine

called a halt to the day's training. Franklin collapsed to the ground, exhausted but

exhilarated.

"Well, well, well," Khaine mused, looking down at his pupil. "It seems our little Primarch is full of surprises. You've taken your first steps into a larger world, Franklin." Franklin nodded, still trying to catch his breath. "I never knew... never imagined I could do

something like that. It's like I've been seeing the world in black and white, and suddenly everything's in color."

As Eldanesh raised his sword once more, ready to continue the training, Franklin felt a surge

of determination. He had faced death hundreds of times, had pushed himself beyond limits

he didn't even know he had. And now, with this newfound power awakening within him, he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

The Primarch of Liberty raised his own blade, a fierce grin spreading across his face. "Bring it

on," he said.

As the duel resumed, Franklin knew that his journey was far from over. But with each clash of blades, each manipulation of reality, he was taking another step towards mastering his own

inner warp god.

824.30M

Segmentum Pacificus

Calligar System

The Calligar System, a recent discovery by a Rogue Trader affiliated with the Independence

Sector, has become the newest protectorate under the wings of the Liberator. The system's capital, Calligar Alpha, is a world of untapped potential, its nobility eagerly awaiting the promised terraforming efforts that will transform their planet into a paradise. Colonel Samuel Leroy Jaxsen of the 69th Liberty Regiment, stood on the bridge of the

Dominion-class Heavy Cruiser, aptly named "Dominance," his enhanced eyes fixed on the swirling blue-green orb of Calligar Alpha in the distance. The planet looked peaceful from up here, but Jaxsen knew better. Every new world was a potential powder keg, and it was his job

to make sure it didn't blow up in their faces.

"Beautiful view, ain't it?" Rear Admiral Richard Gomez's cultured voice broke through

Jaxsen's thoughts.

Jaxsen turned, his scarred face twisting into a wry grin. "Yeah, if you like looking at big-ass

marbles floating in space. Me? I'm more interested in what's on the surface. And what ain't." Gomez chuckled, moving to stand beside the imposing Colonel. "Always the pragmatist, Jaxsen. But I suppose that's why they sent you instead of some fresh-faced diplomat." "Damn straight," Jaxsen growled. "This cold war with the Mechanicum ain't gonna be won by pretty words and fancy manners. It's gonna be won planet by planet, bolt by bolt." The Rear Admiral nodded, his expression growing serious. "Speaking of which, what's your take on this situation? Our intelligence suggests the Mechanicum doesn't have a presence

here yet, but..."

"But those cogboy motherfuckers could show up any damn minute," Jaxsen finished. "That's

why we gotta move fast. Secure the planet, set up defenses, and start the propaganda machine rolling before they even know what hit 'em."

Gomez raised an eyebrow. "And the Rogue Trader who discovered this system? What do you

make of him?"

Jaxsen snorted, his contempt evident. "Rogue Traders. Can't live with 'em, can't shoot 'em

out the goddamn airlock. They're useful for finding these backwater worlds, sure, but they're about as trustworthy as a Genestealer in a hugging contest."

"Colorful as always, Colonel," Gomez said, suppressing a smile. "But they do serve a purpose

in the grand scheme of things."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Jaxsen grumbled. "Doesn't mean I have to like it. And speaking of things I don't like..." He gestured towards the planet. "You know what we're gonna find down there? Same thing we always find. A bunch of pompous assholes calling themselves nobles,

sitting pretty while the rest of the planet goes to shit." Gomez nodded sympathetically. "It's a common pattern in isolated human colonies. But that's where we come in, isn't it? To bring them into the fold, show them a better way."

"The Independence way," Jaxsen agreed. "Speaking of which, you ever see the Primarch in action, Gomez? Franklin motherfucking Valorian?"

The Rear Admiral shook his head. "I've had the honor of being in his presence, but I've never

seen him on the battlefield. I take it you have?"

Jaxsen's eyes lit up with a mix of awe and fierce pride. "Shit, have I ever. I've seen that big

bastard tear through Xenos like they were made of wet paper. It's... it's something else, man.

That's why I signed up for this gig, you know? To be part of something bigger, something that actually makes a difference in this fucked up galaxy." Gomez smiled, genuinely this time. "That's what it's all about, isn't it? Making a difference. Speaking of which, we're about to enter low orbit. Are you ready for your part in this operation, Colonel?"

Jaxsen straightened up, his face set in determined lines. "Born ready, Admiral. You handle the

smooth talking with the planetary governor. I'll be on the ground, making sure shit doesn't hit the fan. Quashing rebellions, fixing infrastructure, and running the best damn propaganda campaign this side of Terra."

"Propaganda?" Gomez raised an eyebrow.

"You bet your ass, propaganda, it's part of the updated Operations Order from the Primarch

himself" Jaxsen grinned fiercely. "By the time I'm done, these people will think the Independence Sector is paradise compared to what the Mechanicum's offering. They'll be lining up to join faster than you can say 'Omnissiah.""

Gomez nodded approvingly. "Just remember, Colonel. We're here to protect and uplift, not conquer." "Don't you worry about that, Admiral," Jaxsen said, his voice suddenly serious. "I know the score. These people are gonna be Imperial citizens, under the protection of the Independence Sector. And I'll be damned if I let anyone or anything mess that up."

As the ship began its descent into low orbit, Jaxsen turned back to the viewscreen, his eyes hard. "Time to get to work. Let's show these people what liberty really means."

The sun beat down mercilessly on the parade ground outside the massive PDF complex on

Calligar Alpha. Rows upon rows of local Planetary Defense Force soldiers stood at uneasy attention, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. They'd been told to expect a restructuring as they had reconnected to the greater galaxy and that they are now under the

rule of the Imperium of Man, but nothing could have prepared them for the sight that now strode towards them.

Colonel Samuel Leroy Jaxsen, encased in his exo-suit, led the vanguard of the 69th Liberty Regiment. Standing at an imposing 6'11", he towered over the PDF troops like a demigod of war. Behind him marched 5,000 Liberty Guardsmen, each a transhuman warrior in their own right, carrying sleek pulse rifles that made the PDF's ballistic guns look like children's toys.

As Jaxsen approached the PDF command staff, he could see the shock and awe written plainly across their faces. The local commander, a stocky man named Hastus Varn, seemed to be

trying his damndest not to show fear, but Jaxsen could see the slight tremor in his hands as he snapped to attention.

"At ease, gentlemen," Jaxsen rumbled, his voice carrying easily across the parade ground

without need for amplification. "I'm Colonel Samuel Leroy Jaxsen of the 69th Liberty Regiment, and from this moment on, I'm in command of this joint task force." Commander Varn swallowed hard before responding. "Welcome to Calligar Alpha, Colonel.

We... we're honored to have you and the illustrious Liberty Guardsmen. I must say, your

arrival is quite... impressive."

Jaxsen smiled grimly. "Impressive? Son, you ain't seen nothing yet. Now, let's get down to

business. Your boys look like they're ready for a scrap, but trust me when I say they ain't ready for the kind of fight the galaxy's got in store for 'em."

He turned to address the assembled PDF troops, his voice booming across the parade ground.

"Listen up, you poor, underfed, underequipped souls! Today's your lucky day. The Independence Sector's about to drag your asses into the 30th millennium proper." With a gesture, Jaxsen signaled his Liberty Guardsmen to begin distributing equipment.

Crates were placed by floating drones, each bearing the eagle insignia of the Liberty Eagles. "First things first," Jaxsen continued, "we're gonna upgrade those sorry excuse of a peashooter you call weapons. Las-guns, boys. They ain't much compared to what my men are packing, but they'll vaporize an ork's head just fine if you aim right."

The PDF troops murmured in excitement as the first las-guns were handed out. Many of them

had never held anything more advanced than an autogun, and the sleek, powerful las- weapons seemed like relics from another age.

"But wait, there's more!" Jaxsen's voice took on a tone of mock excitement. "You think those

pea-shooters are impressive? Wait till you see what you're gonna be wearing."

At his signal, the massive truck's rear doors groaned open with a thunderous clang. Inside, a

cavernous compartment was revealed, its space meticulously organized with rows upon rows of power armor suits. The armor's design was a harmonious blend of rugged practicality and advanced technology. Each suit was encased in reinforced metal plating, layered to provide maximum protection while allowing for fluid movement.

The power armors were equipped with broad, angular shoulder plates and sleek, segmented segments that hinted at both durability and agility. Their dark, matte surfaces absorbed the light, giving them a menacing, utilitarian look. Hydraulic joints and intricate circuitry were partially visible through the armor's interlocking panels, showcasing the sophisticated engineering within. As the light from the truck's interior illuminated the suits, they seemed almost to hum with potential energy, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. A collective gasp went up from the PDF ranks. Power armor was the stuff of legends, worn by a

select few by the nobles. The idea that they mere soldiers, would be donning such equipment seemed impossible.

"That's right, ladies and gentlemen," Jaxsen grinned, clearly enjoying the spectacle. "You're all getting your very own set of power armor. It ain't quite up to Astartes standards, and it sure as hell ain't as fancy as what my boys are wearing, but it'll keep you alive in a firefight

that would've turned you into hamburger before." He gestured to one of his men, who began demonstrating how to don the armor. "Pay attention, 'cause I'm only gonna show this once. There's a valve on the back. Turn it, and the whole thing opens up like a tin can. Once you're inside, press the button on your glove, and

it'll seal you up tighter than you're wife's... well, you get the idea."

As the PDF troops watched in awe and grins, as volunteers awkwardly entered the power

armor, the plates sealing around him with a series of clicks and whirs. In moments, they stood

before them, a formidable warrior encased in gleaming metal. "Now, I know what you're thinking," Jaxsen continued. "This all seems too good to be true. Well, let me tell you something. The Independence Sector doesn't fuck around. This is standard issue where we come from. And if you think this is impressive, wait'll you see what

else we've got in store."

With another signal, more crates were opened, revealing rows of bolters and other heavy weapons. "For those of you who prove you've got the balls to handle it, we've got some real firepower. Bolters, meltaguns, plasma weapons - the kind of stuff that'll make the enemies of mankind shit their pants from a mile away."

As the equipment was distributed, Jaxsen could see the transformation happening before his eyes. The once-ragtag PDF was beginning to look like a real fighting force. But more than

that, he could see the change in their eyes. Where before there had been uncertainty and fear,

now there was determination and pride.

Commander Varn approached Jaxsen, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Colonel, I... I don't know

what to say. This equipment, it's beyond anything we could have dreamed of. How can we

ever repay the Independence Sector for this generosity?"

Jaxsen fixed the commander with a stern look. "You want to repay us? Then you listen good.

This ain't charity, and it sure as hell ain't a hand-out. This is an investment. The Independence Sector is investing in you, in this planet, in humanity's future in this system.

And we expect returns on our investment."

He turned to address the troops again. "You hear that, soldiers? From this day forward, you're

not just fighting for Calligar Alpha. You're not just fighting for the Imperium. You're fighting

for liberty itself. You're fighting to prove that humanity can stand tall in this fucked-up

galaxy without sacrificing what makes us human." Jaxsen paused, letting his words sink in. "The Mechanicum of Mars would turn you into unthinking automatons. Other Imperial factions would grind you down, use you up, and toss you aside. But the Independence Sector? We're here to lift you up. To make you stronger. To give you the tools you need to carve out a future for yourselves and your children." He gestured to the Liberty Guardsmen standing behind him. "Look at my men. Each one of them started out just like you. But with training, with technology, with the backing of the Independence Sector, they've become the finest fighting force this side of the Astartes. And that's the future we're offering you."

As Jaxsen spoke, he could see the effect his words were having. The PDF troops stood straighter, their eyes shining with newfound purpose. Even Commander Varn seemed to have found his backbone, standing tall beside Jaxsen.

"Now," Jaxsen growled, his voice dropping to a menacing rumble, "we've got work to do.

This system needs to be secured, fortified, and ready to tell the Mechanicum of Mars to kiss

our collective ass if they come sniffing around. Are you with me?" The response was immediate and overwhelming. A thunderous cheer went up from the

assembled troops, their voices united in a single, defiant roar.

Commander Varn's curiosity got the better of him. "What exactly are Astartes? You keep

bringing them up.

11

Jaxsen surveyed the assembled PDF troops with a smirk, his eyes glinting with a mix of authority and mischief. He gestured to the holographic projector beside him. "Now, before we get into the nitty-gritty of making this system shine like a beacon of freedom, I gotta

answer a burning question that's been hanging in the air. Commander Varn, right? You wanna know what the hell Astartes are."

With a nod, Jaxsen signaled one of his men. The projector hummed to life, and a massive, high-definition hologram flickered into view, showcasing the imposing image of an Astartes Exo-Suit. The suit was draped in the iconic Navy Blue, Red, and Stars of the Liberty Eagles. Jaxsen's voice took on a serious tone, but his signature edge remained sharp. "Feast your eyes on this. These are the Astartes, or as most folks know 'em, Space Marines. If you run into one of these bad boys in the Liberty Eagle colors, congratulations! You're in for a show of epic proportions. These guys don't just fight; they turn the battlefield into a damn fireworks display."

He let that sink in, then leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice to a gravelly growl. "But don't get it twisted. If you come across Astartes in other colors-run. Those guys are cold- blooded killers with a capital K. You don't want any part of that. But if they're in Navy Blue, Red, and Stars, give 'em the greeting: 'For Liberty and For the Liberator the Great Eagle.' That'll get you on their good side, score you some tasks, and front-row seats to the best damn

fireworks show in the galaxy."

Jaxsen's expression grew even more intense as he switched the image to a striking portrait of Franklin Valorian. "And speaking of fireworks, let me introduce you to the big man himself. This here is Franklin Valorian, the Primarch of the Liberty Eagles. Remember those Astartes I just showed you? This is their head honcho, their numero uno, their big cheese. If you ever share a battlefield with him, consider yourself blessed, 'cause you're now in the presence of the Eagle. And trust me, he'll show you a display of fireworks like nothing you've ever seen." Jaxsen's voice roared with enthusiasm and pride. "So gear up, get ready, and remember: Forn/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Liberty and For the Liberator the Great Eagle! Let's make sure the galaxy knows we mean

business."

In the cold vastness of space, distant shadows drifted, their forms barely discernible against the star-speckled black. Despite the vast light-years separating them from their destination, the gleaming planet below shone with a haunting clarity. From their positions in the void, the distant watchers seemed to trace every curve of the world's surface, their purpose a dark whisper in the expanse. The silent approach of a hostile Xenos race is at hand.