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19.88% The Primarch of Liberty / Chapter 33: A Unique Case

Chapter 33: A Unique Case

Franklin Valorian, Primarch of the Liberty Eagles, stood in his personal training ground, sweat glistening on his brow as he swung the massive Deathsword in precise arcs. The blade hummed with eldritch energy, a testament to the ancient power contained within.

"Not bad, for a mon-keigh," came the sardonic voice of Khaine, the Aeldari God of War and Murder, from within the blade.

Franklin grinned, his chest heaving slightly from exertion. "Coming from you, Oh Bloody-Handed One, I'll take that as high praise."

"Don't let it go to your head," Khaine retorted. "You're learning fast, but you've got millennia to go before you can match true Aeldari battle prowess."

"Aw, shucks," Franklin drawled, his accent thickening with mock disappointment. "And here I thought I was ready to challenge the Phoenix King himself."

Khaine's laughter echoed in Franklin's mind, a sound like clashing blades. "Your humor never ceases to amuse me, Primarch. But come, it's time we moved beyond mere swordplay. Let us delve into the arcane arts of war."

Franklin cocked an eyebrow. "Arcane arts? You mean like... magic tricks? Gonna pull a rabbit out of your helmet, Khaine?"

The god's sigh was almost audible. "Spells, you dimwitted giant. The psychic techniques that have made the Aeldari the terror of the galaxy for millions of years."

"Hold up," Franklin said, lowering the Deathsword. "You know spells? I thought you were just a musclehead with a cool sword."

Khaine's indignation flared like a supernova. "A musclehead? Me? If you want a musclehead, go chat with Khorne, you overgrown infant! I am Khaine, the Aeldari God of War and Murder! I am the epitome of martial prowess, the very essence of combat distilled into divine form!"

Franklin held up his hands in surrender, trying not to laugh. "Alright, alright! No need to blow a gasket. So, you're saying you're going to teach me some of your fancy Aeldari magic?"

"Indeed," Khaine replied, his tone softening slightly. "Now, focus your mind. Reach out to the Warp and channel its energy."

Franklin closed his eyes, his face scrunching up in concentration. After a few moments, he opened one eye. "Uh, Khaine? I think the Warp's ghosting me. I'm not feeling anything."

Khaine's disbelief was palpable. "What do you mean, you're not feeling anything? You're a Primarch, a being of immense psychic potential! A Warp God in flesh!Surely you jest?"

Franklin shrugged. "No jest, buddy. My Warp powers are like that flaky friend who only shows up when there's free food. They don't come when called."

"Impossible," Khaine muttered. "I saw you unleash tremendous psychic might against Kairos Fateweaver. Your powers seared it's flesh!"

"Oh, that?" Franklin scratched his head. "Yeah, that only happens when Chaos shows up. It's like my powers have a 'In Case of Chaos, Break Glass' policy."

Khaine was silent for a moment, processing this information. "You mean to tell me that you, a scion of the Emperor himself, can only access your psychic abilities in response to Chaos?"

Franklin nodded. "Pretty much. Makes family reunions with dear old dad a bit awkward, let me tell you."

"By the Bloody Gates of Khaela Mensha Khaine," the god swore. "This is... unprecedented. Very well, we shall have to awaken your latent abilities through more... direct means."

"Uh, what exactly do you mean by 'direct means'?" Franklin asked, a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice.

"Meditation," Khaine replied. "Sit, Primarch. We shall delve into the depths of your psyche and drag your powers kicking and screaming into the light."

Franklin plopped down cross-legged on the training room floor, the Deathsword across his knees. "Alright, but fair warning: last time I tried meditation, I fell asleep and dreamed I was a potato. It was a very enlightening experience."

Khaine chose to ignore that comment. "Close your eyes and focus on your breath. Feel the energy flowing through your body, the connection to the Warp that lies dormant within you."

Franklin did as instructed, his massive frame going still as he concentrated. Minutes ticked by in silence, broken only by the Primarch's steady breathing.

Suddenly, Khaine's voice rang out, startling Franklin. "By the Warp, you truly are a psychic imbecile!"

Franklin's eyes snapped open. "Hey! I resemble that remark!"

Khaine's frustration was evident. "Your psychic potential is vast, yet you fumble with it like a child trying to grasp smoke. How have you managed to survive this long?"

"Well, I eat my vegetables and always look both ways before crossing the street," Franklin quipped.

"Enough of your jests!" Khaine snapped. "We must find a way to unlock your abilities. Perhaps... yes, that might work. Primarch, take up your bolter."

Confused but curious, Franklin stood and retrieved his personal bolt pistol from its rack on the wall. "Okay, got it. Now what?"

"Now," Khaine instructed, "I want you to aim at that target and fire, but focus on the bullet. Will it to hit the mark."

Franklin raised an eyebrow but complied. He raised the pistol, took aim, and squeezed the trigger. The bolt round erupted from the barrel with a thunderous crack.

To Franklin's amazement, the bullet curved in mid-air, spiraling around in an impossible arc before striking the dead center of the target.

"Holy Emperor on a pogo stick," Franklin breathed. "Did you see that?"

Khaine's voice was filled with a mixture of awe and exasperation. "Indeed I did. It seems, Primarch, that you have been channeling your psychic abilities through your weapons all along."

Franklin stared at the smoking gun in his hand. "So, that's why I never miss? And why my shots sometimes do those fancy tricks?"

"Precisely," Khaine confirmed. "You, Franklin Valorian, are a gifted psyker... and also, if you'll pardon my Aeldari, a complete moron."

Franklin grinned. "Aw, Khaine, you say the sweetest things. So, does this mean I get to skip the meditation and go straight to the cool stuff?"

Khaine's sigh echoed through the Deathsword. "I suppose we'll have to work with what we've got. But mark my words, Primarch, by the time I'm done with you, you'll be wielding psychic power with the same skill you wield that oversized gun of yours."

"Sounds like a plan," Franklin said, holstering his bolt pistol. "But first, how about we take a break? All this psychic awakening has made me hungry. You want anything? I make a mean grilled cheese sandwich."

"I am a god trapped in a sword," Khaine replied flatly. "I do not eat grilled cheese sandwiches."

Franklin shrugged. "Your loss. More for me then. After lunch, you can teach me how to make my bullets do loop-de-loops. That'll really freak out my opponents."

As Franklin sauntered out of the training room, whistling a jaunty tune, Khaine found himself wondering, not for the first time, about the strange twists of fate that had led him to this moment. Here he was, the mighty God of War, reduced to teaching psychic tricks to a Primarch who thought "focus" was something you did with a camera.

----------------

Franklin Valorian sauntered back into his personal training ground, a satisfied grin on his face and a few crumbs still clinging to his chin. He patted his stomach contentedly.

"Alright, Khaine, my murderously inclined mentor," he announced, "I'm back and ready for Warp 101. Or is it Psyker 101? Spooky Space Magic 101?"

The Deathblade pulsed with an exasperated energy as Franklin unsheathed it. Khaine's voice resonated from within. "If you're quite finished with your culinary adventures, perhaps we can return to the matter at hand."

"Right, right," Franklin nodded, adopting a comically serious expression. "I'm all ears. Well, technically, I'm mostly genetically enhanced superhuman tissue, but you get the idea."

Khaine sighed, a sound like wind whistling through ancient ruins. "Very well. Listen closely, Primarch, for I shall explain the nature of the Warp and how to harness its power."

What followed was a comprehensive lecture on the Immaterium, delivered with all the gravitas befitting an Aeldari god. Khaine spoke of the Sea of Souls, the raw stuff of creation and destruction, of the psychic energies that flowed through all living things. He explained how psykers could tap into this realm, shaping reality itself with the power of their will.

Franklin listened intently, his brow furrowed in concentration. As Khaine's explanation wound down, the Primarch's face lit up with understanding.

"Oh, I get it!" he exclaimed. "So the Warp is basically reality manipulation. If you're strong enough, you can do pretty much anything!"

Khaine's surprise was evident in his tone. "That's... a surprisingly succinct summary, yes."

Franklin grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "See? I'm not just a pretty face and devastating good looks. I've got brains too!"

"Indeed," Khaine drawled. "You continue to astonish me, Primarch."

"So," Franklin mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully, "what's stopping me from just, I don't know, throwing around miniature suns at my enemies during battles? That seems like it would be pretty effective."

Khaine chuckled, a sound like grinding obsidian. "Nothing, absolutely nothing... except perhaps the trifling matter of incinerating the entire planet along with yourself if you were to conjure too many stellar bodies. And your control over the warp"

Franklin blinked. "Ah. Yeah, that might put a damper on things. Bit of a PR nightmare too. I can see the headlines now: 'Primarch's Stellar Performance: Billions Vaporized!'"

"Quite," Khaine replied dryly. "Now, shall we begin with some practical applications?"

For the next few hours, Franklin practiced channeling his psychic energy through the Deathblade. Under Khaine's guidance, he learned to infuse the weapon with warp energy, enhancing its already formidable cutting power.

"Hey, I think I'm getting the hang of this!" Franklin exclaimed as the blade sliced through a reinforced adamantium target like it was made of parchment.

"Indeed," Khaine acknowledged. "Your progress is... adequate."

Franklin held the Deathblade on one hand and raised his other empty hand targeting the dummies, he stood in the center of the training ground, his face scrunched up in concentration. After several minutes of intense effort, the best he managed was a faint flicker of energy around his fingertips.

"Huh," Franklin said, staring at his hand. "Is it supposed to tickle like that?"

Khaine's exasperation was palpable. "No, Primarch, it is not supposed to 'tickle.' You should be able to conjure storms of psychic energy, not produce a light show fit for an Administratum clerk's retirement party."

Franklin shrugged. "Hey, Rome wasn't built in a day. Or was it? I always get my Terran history mixed up. Did the Emperor build Rome? He seems like the type who'd build a city in a day just to show off."

"Focus!" Khaine snapped. "Your inability to channel your powers without a focus is... perplexing. Even for one as uniquely dense as yourself."

"Hey now," Franklin protested, "I'll have you know my density is perfectly calibrated for maximum Primarch-iness."

Khaine ignored the quip. "Perhaps we're approaching this from the wrong angle. Tell me, Primarch, how do you perceive your connection to the Warp?"

Franklin scratched his head. "Well, it's kind of like... you know when you're trying to remember the name of that one guy, and it's right on the tip of your tongue, but you just can't quite grab it? It's like that, but instead of a name, it's unfathomable cosmic power."

"I... see," Khaine replied, clearly not seeing at all. "And when you channel your power through your weapons?"

"Oh, that's easy," Franklin grinned. "It's like playing one of those old Terran video games. You just point, click, and boom! Enemy go splat!"

Khaine was silent for a long moment, processing this uniquely Valorian perspective on psychic warfare. "You are, without doubt, the strangest being I have encountered in my long existence, Primarch."

"Aw, thanks!" Franklin beamed. "I do try."

"It was not a compliment," Khaine growled. "But perhaps... yes, maybe we can work with this peculiar mindset of yours."

The god instructed Franklin to pick up his bolt pistol again. "Now, imagine you're playing one of your 'video games.' The Warp is your controller, reality is the screen, and your will is the game's code."

Franklin nodded enthusiastically. "Ooh, I like this analogy. Does this make you the tutorial NPC?"

"I am the god of war and murder," Khaine replied flatly. "I am no one's 'NPC.'"

"Right, right, sorry," Franklin said, not sounding sorry at all. "So, what you're saying is, I should try to... hack the game?"

"If that helps you conceptualize it, then yes," Khaine sighed. "Now, focus on the bolt round in the chamber. Visualize its path, its impact. Will it to do the impossible."

Franklin took a deep breath, raised the pistol, and fired. The bolt round erupted from the barrel, then suddenly split into a dozen smaller projectiles, each one striking a different target around the room with pinpoint accuracy.

"Holy Terra!" Franklin exclaimed. "Did you see that? I just turned one bullet into, like, a whole bullet family!"

Khaine's voice held a mix of impressed and disturbed. "Indeed. It seems your... unique perspective on psychic manipulation has some merit after all."

Khaine, ever the patient mentor (or so he told himself), decided it was time to introduce Franklin to some of the more advanced Aeldari psychic techniques. "Now, Primarch, we shall delve into the manipulation of fire, temperature, auras, sound, and even the very statistics of reality itself."

Franklin's eyes lit up like a child on Sanguinala morning. "Ooh, fancy! So, I get to be a space wizard now?"

"Please," Khaine sighed, "refrain from using such crude terminology. These are ancient and revered Aeldari techniques, not parlor tricks."

"Right, right," Franklin nodded solemnly. "Ancient and revered space wizardry. Got it."

As Khaine began his instruction, Franklin proved to be an unexpectedly apt pupil. He quickly grasped the concepts of elemental manipulation, combining them in ways that even Khaine found impressive (though he'd never admit it).

"Hey, watch this!" Franklin exclaimed, concentrating intensely. Suddenly, an aura of searing heat enveloped him, the temperature rivaling that of a star's surface.

"Impressive," Khaine admitted, before noticing a slight problem. "Though perhaps you should—"

"Is it hot in here, or is it just me?" Franklin grinned, oblivious to the fact that the floor beneath him was starting to melt.

"Primarch! The ship!" Khaine shouted.

"Oh, crap!" Franklin quickly shut off the effect, leaving a Franklin-shaped indent in the now-cooling metal floor. "Uh... I meant to do that. It's a... tactical floor modification. Yeah."

Next, they moved on to manipulating statistics and physical properties. Franklin practiced on a combat training dummy, focusing his will on altering its attributes.

"Behold!" he announced dramatically as he pointed the Deathsword at it, "I shall now make this foe cower before my might!"

To Khaine's surprise, the dummy indeed began to shrink, becoming comically small.

"Ha!" Franklin laughed. "Not so tough now, are you, tiny?"

Khaine observed these displays with growing amazement and concern. "You are... surprisingly adept at this, Primarch. Your raw psychic potential is truly staggering."

"Aw, shucks," Franklin grinned. "You're making me blush."

However, Khaine soon noticed a peculiar limitation as Franklin used the Deathsword on his hand to cast spells. "Why do You seem to be unable to manifest these abilities without holding a weapon. How... inconvenient."

Franklin shrugged. "Hey, a guy's gotta have a gimmick, right?"

In a flash of divine inspiration (or perhaps desperation), Khaine suggested, "Try wearing these gauntlets. Perhaps they will serve as a focus."

Franklin slipped on the ornate gauntlets, which immediately crackled with warp energy. "Oh ho! Now we're cooking with promethium!"

What followed was a display that would have made even the most flamboyant Eldar Farseer raise an eyebrow. Franklin pranced around the training room, shooting warp lightning from his fingertips and gleefully shouting, "I CAST Magic Missile!" and "Eldritch Blast!" and, most frequently, "FIREBALL!"

At one point, he even attempted to cast something he called "The Emperor's Crushing Hand," aiming at the dummy's nether regions while yelling, "Testicular torsion!"

Khaine, for perhaps the first time in his long existence, was rendered speechless.

After hours of magical mayhem, Franklin finally seemed to tire of his newfound "space wizardry." He picked up his trusty bolt pistol and the Deathblade, a content smile on his face.

"You know, Khaine," he mused, "this magic stuff is fun and all, but I think I'll stick to being a gunslinger with a side of swordsmanship. It's who I am, you know?"

Khaine's exasperation was palpable. "After all that... you're just going back to your guns?"

Franklin shrugged. "Hey, a man's gotta know his limitations. And his strengths. And I'm really, really good at shooting things."

The god of war couldn't argue with that logic, as much as he wanted to. "You are, without doubt, the most infuriating being I have ever encountered."

"Thanks!" Franklin beamed, completely missing the insult. "Oh, hey, I just had an idea! What if we set up a Librarium for the Legion? You know, teach some of the boys these nifty tricks?"

"An intriguing proposition," Khaine admitted. "Though I was under the impression that psykers were... not well-regarded in your cluster."

Franklin waved dismissively. "Details, details. We'll just need to do some rebranding. Instead of 'dangerous psykers,' we'll call them 'tactical reality adjusters' or something."

As Franklin rambled on about his plans for a psychic training program, a mischievous glint appeared in his eye. "You know, with these new abilities, we could come up with some really interesting combat techniques. Ones that might make the old Geneva Conventions look like a children's tea party rulebook."

"Geneva Conventions?" Khaine queried, unfamiliar with the term.

Franklin grinned. "Oh, just some ancient Terran guidelines for warfare. But in the grim darkness of the far future, we call it the Geneva Checklist!"

Khaine, despite his better judgment, found himself intrigued. "And what sort of techniques did you have in mind?"

For the next hour, Franklin excitedly outlined various combat applications of his newfound psychic abilities, each one more outlandish and potentially devastating than the last. Ideas ranged from psychically guided smart bullets to localized time dilation fields to something he called "the brown note amplifier."

As he listened, Khaine found himself torn between horror at the potential consequences of these ideas and a grudging admiration for the Primarch's creativity.

"Alright, Khaine," Franklin grinned, giving the sword a casual twirl. "Let's see if we can't spice up this sword and sorcery routine a bit."

The Aeldari God of War's voice emanated from the Deathblade, a mix of curiosity and resignation. "Very well, Primarch. Show me what you've concocted."

Franklin's grin widened as he launched into motion. The Deathblade sang through the air, leaving trails of distorted reality in its wake. Suddenly, he pivoted, bringing the disintegration pistol to bear. A beam of coherent energy lashed out, vaporizing a target dummy before it had time to register the hit.

"Not bad, eh?" Franklin called out, already moving into his next sequence. "I call this one 'The Liberator's Lament.'"

Khaine's sigh was almost audible. "Must you name every technique?"

"Of course!" Franklin replied, executing a flawless pirouette that somehow ended with three more dummies reduced to atomic dust. "It adds flair!"

As the Primarch continued his deadly dance, the interplay between sword, gun, and psychic power became increasingly complex. The Deathblade cleaved through the air, whilst his Pistol fired disintegration beams striking targets from impossible angles.

"You know," Franklin mused, casually deflecting an incoming projectile with a psychic barrier, "I think I'm starting to get the hang of this whole 'reality manipulation' thing."

Khaine's voice held a note of genuine impressment. "Indeed. Your progress is... remarkable, if somewhat unorthodox."

Franklin beamed at the praise, then suddenly froze mid-motion. His eyes gleamed with that particular light that Khaine had come to recognize as the precursor to something either brilliant or catastrophic. Often both.

Franklin raised the Deathblade high, channeling psychic energy into the blade until it glowed like a miniature sun. With a theatrical flourish, he brought the sword down in a devastating arc. A crescent of flames erupted from the blade, racing across the training deck and reducing a whole row of target dummies to ash.

"Booyah!" Franklin whooped, pumping his fist in the air. "How's that for a finishing move?"

Khaine was silent for a moment, processing what he had just witnessed. "I must admit, Primarch, that was... impressive. Though I don't recall teaching you that particular technique."

Franklin shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Eh, I figured if I could do the swooshy sword thing and the fiery magic thing separately, why not combine them? It's like peanut butter and jelly, but with more explosions."

"A... unique perspective," Khaine replied diplomatically. "I suppose there is merit in adapting and combining techniques to suit one's individual style."

"Exactly!" Franklin nodded enthusiastically. "Why limit myself to just sword and sorcery when I can throw some good old-fashioned gunslinging into the mix?"

As if to emphasize his point, Franklin holstered his disintegration pistol and reached into thin air. With a flourish that defied the laws of physics, he pulled out a massive rotary cannon that by all rights should not have fit in the non-existent space he drew it from.

Khaine's surprise was evident in his tone. "Primarch, where did you... how did you..."

Franklin grinned, hefting the improbably large weapon with ease. "Oh, this old thing? Just a little dimensional storage embedded into my suit"

Before Khaine could formulate a response, Franklin was already in motion again. The rotary cannon roared to life, spewing a torrent of explosive rounds that somehow curved in mid-air, weaving between the psychic fire slashes he was still sending out with the Deathblade.

The resulting destruction was as impressive as it was excessive. When the smoke cleared, the training deck looked less like a military facility and more like the aftermath of a particularly enthusiastic Ork WAAAGH!.

Franklin surveyed the carnage with a satisfied nod. "Now that's what I call a grand finale!"

As Franklin began excitedly brainstorming names for his new techniques ("The Liberty Lambada? No, too dancey. The Freedom Fandango? Hmm, getting warmer..."), Khaine found himself reflecting on the strange twists of fate that had led him to this point.

"Alright, Khaine," Franklin said, twirling the pistol with practiced ease. "I've been thinking about this whole psychic business."

The Aeldari God of War's voice emanated from the Deathblade, a mix of curiosity and trepidation. "Oh? And what profound insights have you gleaned, Primarch?"

Franklin grinned. "Well, you know how my bullets always seem to hit their mark, no matter how impossible the shot?"

"Yes," Khaine replied cautiously. "Your aim is... unnaturally accurate."

"Exactly!" Franklin exclaimed. "I think that might be some kind of built-in Primarch power. Like, psychic stuff that's hardwired into my very being."

Khaine was silent for a moment, processing this. "An intriguing theory. It would explain certain... anomalies in your abilities."

Franklin nodded enthusiastically. "Right? And I've got this feeling there's more where that came from. Like, untapped potential just waiting to be unleashed."

A few Minutes later...

"Well," Franklin said finally, clapping his hands together, "I think that's enough mad science for one day, we can explore my Primarchy abilities next time. What do you say we grab some dinner? I'm thinking of trying to psychically enhanced my grilled cheese making skills."

As Khaine watched Franklin sauntered away, Khaine felt respect growing for this odd, irreverent giant approach to the warp. Perhaps, just perhaps, Franklin Valorian's unorthodox approach to psychic warfare might prove to be exactly what the galaxy needed in these dark times.

Or it might lead to unmitigated disaster. With Franklin, it was always a toss-up.

Either way, Khaine mused, it would certainly be interesting to watch unfold.


Chapter 34: Progress

Franklin Valorian stood atop a scaffolding, his imposing figure silhouetted against the backdrop of New Washington's skyline. Below him, a hive of activity buzzed as construction crews, automatons, and floating drones worked tirelessly to transform the old city library into the fortress that would become the Library of Congress.

"How fitting," Franklin mused, a wry smile playing on his lips. "From a humble repository of knowledge to the beating heart of our Legion's psychic might."

He descended the scaffolding with practiced ease, his feet touching the ground just as a group of his gene-sons approached.

"My sons," Franklin greeted them, his voice carrying a mixture of pride and amusement. "I see you've finally decided to come out of the psychic closet."

The Astartes shifted uncomfortably, their superhuman faces showing hints of embarrassment. Franklin stood in front of his sons, his voice steady despite his nervousness.

"I know the Cluster isn't too keen on psykers, but times are changing. We're part of something bigger now, and we need every advantage we can get. So, who among you can do a little... space magic?"

There was a moment of silence before a few hands tentatively raised. Franklin's grin widened.

"There we go! Come on up here, you closet Space Wizards!"

As the psyker Marines made their way forward, Franklin felt a familiar presence in his mind.

"Weak," Khaine's voice echoed. "Your gene-sons lack potency in the warp. If not for my intervention, you'd be just as inept."

Franklin chuckled internally. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, old friend. We'll just have to work with what we've got."

One by one, Franklin tested the psychic potential of his sons. He was pleased to see that while their abilities weren't overwhelming, there was definite promise. One Marine in particular caught his eye.

"You there," Franklin pointed. "What's your name, son?"

The Marine snapped to attention. "Vladimir Mendelev, my lord."

Franklin nodded, sensing the spark of potential in Vladimir. "Well, Vladimir, how would you like to be the first recruit for our new Librarius?"

Vladimir's eyes widened. "It would be an honor, Lord Valorian...Father"

Franklin clapped his hands together. "Well, my boys, it's time for Psyker 101. Let's start with the basics, shall we?"

Over the next few hours, Franklin guided his sons through rudimentary psychic exercises. He demonstrated techniques for focusing their minds, channeling warp energies, and manifesting simple psychic phenomena. As he did so, he shared watered-down versions of the incantations Khaine had taught him.

"Remember," Franklin instructed, "it's all about intent and focus. The words are just a tool to help you channel your will."

Vladimir, showing a particular aptitude, managed to levitate a small rock. Excited by his success, he shouted, "I cast Levitate!"

Franklin couldn't help but laugh. "Well done, Vladimir! Though perhaps we should work on subtlety next."

As the training session wound down, Franklin noticed three figures approaching. He recognized them immediately: Dr. Hiromi Suzuki, Chief Engineer Amelia Cortez, and Dr. Elena Vasquez - his top "eggheads" as he affectionately called them.

"Ladies and Gentleman," Franklin greeted them warmly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Dr. Suzuki, his cybernetic eye whirring as it focused, spoke first. "Lord Valorian, we've been observing your training session. We believe we may have a solution to... enhance the psychic potential of your sons."

Franklin raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I'm listening."

Chief Engineer Cortez stepped forward, her hands moving animatedly as she spoke. "We've been working on integrating some of our most advanced technology with psychic amplification techniques. Theoretically, we could create a symbiosis between machine and mind, boosting the rather... modest psychic abilities of your gene-sons."

"Modest?" Franklin feigned offense. "I'll have you know that young Vladimir here can levitate rocks with the best of them."

Dr. Vasquez, ever the serious one, cut in. "My lord, with all due respect, what Chief Cortez is proposing could turn that rock-levitating ability into mountain-moving power."

"Hmm," Franklin mused. "Sounds like we're creating some sort of... Techno-psychic super soldiers."

"Precisely," Dr. Cortez confirmed. "And with the resources of the Independence Cluster at our disposal, we could produce equipment far beyond anything the Adeptus Mechanicus could dream of."

Franklin paced for a moment, considering the implications. Then, a wide grin spread across his face. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "I believe we've just given birth to a new breed of Librarius. Or should I say..." He paused for dramatic effect, "The Federal Bureau of Incantations!"

There was a moment of silence before Vladimir burst out laughing. "The FBI, sir? Really?"

Franklin shrugged, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Why not? It's catchy, it's got history, and it'll confuse the hell out of everyone else in the Imperium."

As the laughter died down, Franklin's expression grew more serious. "Dr. Suzuki, I want you to begin developing the neural implants immediately. Chief Cortez, start designing the external psi-amplifiers. Dr. Vasquez, I need you to delve into our archives - find every scrap of information we have on psychic phenomena and how it interacts with technology."

The scientists nodded, their eyes alight with the prospect of the challenge ahead.

"Vladimir," Franklin turned to the young Astartes, "congratulations. You're about to become our first FBI Special Agent. I hope you're ready for some serious upgrades."

Vladimir straightened, a mix of excitement and apprehension on his face. "I am honored, father. I won't let you down."

As the group dispersed to begin their respective tasks, Franklin felt Khaine's presence in his mind once more.

This is an interesting path you're taking, Franklin, the god-shard commented. Merging technology and psychic power... it's not unlike what my people once did.

Oh? Franklin thought back. And how did that work out for them?

There was a moment of silence before Khaine responded, his mental voice tinged with both warning and amusement. Let's just say it'll be interesting to see if you humans can do better.

Franklin chuckled to himself as he watched his sons and scientists scurry about, already hard at work on this new endeavor. "Well, Khaine," he murmured under his breath, "if there's one thing humans are good at, it's learning from others' mistakes... and then making spectacular new ones of our own."

With that, he turned and strode towards the rising structure of the Library of Congress.

---------------

Franklin stood in the sterile environment of Lab 17 within Area 51, his towering form dwarfing the various equipment and researchers scurrying about. Dr. Elara Chen, head of bio-engineering, approached him with a tablet in hand, her eyes alight with excitement and a hint of nervousness.

"Lord Valorian," she began, her voice steady despite her obvious enthusiasm, "I've made a discovery that I believe you'll find... intriguing."

Franklin raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Go on, Dr. Chen. You've got my attention."

Dr. Chen tapped her tablet, bringing up a holographic display of what appeared to be a complex organ. "My lord, I believe I've identified the source of your... uniqueness. We're calling it the Immortis Gland, though some of the team have taken to calling it the 'God-Maker'."

Franklin leaned in, examining the hologram with keen interest. "Interesting name. What exactly does this 'God-Maker' do?"

Dr. Chen's excitement bubbled over as she began to explain. "It's a genetically-engineered organ, about twice the size of a thumbnail, located within your cerebral cortex. Our analysis suggests that this organ is responsible for your immense size, superhuman strength, and accelerated growth to maturity."

Franklin nodded slowly, processing the information. "And you believe this was created by the Emperor?"

"Without a doubt," Dr. Chen affirmed. "The level of genetic engineering involved... it's beyond anything we've ever seen. It's nothing short of miraculous. This organ not only regulates your growth and strength but also your overall metabolism. We believe it grants you a lifespan measured in centuries, if not functional immortality."

Franklin let out a low whistle. "Well, that explains a few things. But tell me, Dr. Chen, you already informed me of this a few years ago I assume there are extensive research?"

Dr. Chen took a deep breath before continuing. "My lord, we believe this organ exists not just in you, but in all the Primarchs. We've only confirmed its existence in three so far, including yourself, but the implications are... significant."

Franklin's eyes narrowed slightly. "Significant how?"

"If we can understand how the Immortis Gland works," Dr. Chen explained, her voice lowering slightly, "we might be able to improve upon the Astartes themselves. Enhance their abilities, perhaps even extend their lifespans further."

There was a moment of tense silence as Franklin considered the implications. Finally, he spoke, his voice measured. "You realize, Dr. Chen, that what you're proposing could be considered the highest form of tech-heresy by the Mechanicus?"

Dr. Chen nodded solemnly. "I do, my lord. That's why I'm bringing this directly to you. We need your approval"

Franklin paced for a moment, his mind racing with the possibilities and potential consequences. Finally, he turned back to Dr. Chen. "Alright, you have my support to continue your research, but with conditions. This stays in Area 51, under the highest security protocols. Only you and I will know the full extent of what's being done here. Understood?"

Dr. Chen nodded eagerly. "Of course, Lord Valorian. Thank you for your trust in this matter."

Franklin held up a hand. "Don't thank me yet, Doctor. We're treading on dangerous ground here. I'll need to approach the Emperor about this... carefully. In the meantime, I want regular updates on your progress."

"Absolutely, my lord," Dr. Chen replied. "We'll begin immediately. May I ask... would you be willing to undergo some additional tests? It could greatly accelerate our research."

Franklin grinned. "Why not? It's not every day you get to be a test subject for your own superhuman abilities. Set it up, Doctor. Let's see what this 'God-Maker' can really do."

Over the next few weeks, Franklin split his time between overseeing the construction of the FBI headquarters and participating in Dr. Chen's research. The tests were rigorous, pushing even his superhuman physiology to its limits.

Franklin couldn't help but marvel at the ingenuity of the Emperor, creating something as complex and powerful as the Immortis Gland.

"Father," he mused aloud, "I hope you'll understand why we're doing this. The galaxy is a dangerous place, and we need every advantage we can get."

-------------------

A Dozen Solar months later...

Franklin Valorian stood at the head of the grand hall within the newly constructed Library of Congress. The vast chamber, with its towering bookshelves and gleaming technological interfaces, served as a testament to the unique blend of knowledge and power that defined the Liberty Eagles. Before him stood the first graduating class of the Federal Bureau of Incantations, his Legion's answer to the traditional Librarius

At the forefront of the group, standing tall and proud, was Vladimir Mendelev. The Space Marine's eyes gleamed with a mixture of determination and barely contained psychic energy. Franklin couldn't help but feel a surge of pride; Vladimir had come a long way under his tutelage, proving to be an exception to the generally weak psychic potential of the Liberty Eagles.

"My sons," Franklin began, his voice carrying effortlessly through the hall, "today marks a new chapter in the history of our Legion. You stand before me not just as Space Marines, but as the guardians of knowledge, the wielders of technology, and the shields against the warp's corruption."

He gestured to the Augur Staffs held by each of the assembled Techno-Seers. The staffs hummed with barely contained energy, their embedded AIs silently processing vast amounts of data.

"These staffs are more than mere weapons or tools. They are the bridge between your innate abilities and the technological marvels we have inherited from humanity's golden age. Learn to use them well, for they will be your greatest allies in the battles to come."

Franklin paced before the assembled Techno-Seers, his gaze meeting each of theirs in turn. "You may not possess the raw psychic might of other Legions' Librarians, but make no mistake – your strength lies in your adaptability, your understanding of technology, and your ability to work as one cohesive unit."

He stopped before Vladimir, placing a hand on the Marine's shoulder. "Vladimir Mendelev, step forward."

As Vladimir moved to stand beside his Primarch, Franklin addressed the group once more. "Vladimir has shown exceptional psychic potential, a rarity among our ranks. He will serve as your Chief Librarian, your Director. Learn from him, support him, and together, you will be the backbone of our Legion's defense against the horrors of the warp."

Vladimir stood tall, his face a mask of determination. "I am honored, my lord. I swear to lead our brothers with wisdom and strength."

Franklin nodded approvingly before turning back to the assembled Techno-Seers. "Now, demonstrate what you have learned. Show me the living lightning, the mastery over machinery that sets you apart."

As one, the Techno-Seers raised their Augur Staffs. The air crackled with energy as arcs of blue-white lightning danced between the staffs, forming intricate patterns in the air. Simultaneously, the various technological devices in the room sprang to life, responding to the electromagnetic manipulation of the Techno-Seers.

Franklin watched with satisfaction as holographic displays flickered into existence, showing tactical data and real-time analysis of the psychic energies at play. The drone swarms assigned to each Techno-Seer buzzed to life, forming protective formations around their masters.

"Excellent," Franklin said, his voice filled with pride. "Now, Vladimir, show them the true potential of our arts."

Vladimir stepped forward, his Augur Staff pulsing with barely contained power. With a gesture, he called forth a storm of psychic energy that dwarfed the combined efforts of his brothers. The lightning under his control took on a life of its own, forming shapes and patterns of incredible complexity.

The other Techno-Seers watched in awe as Vladimir demonstrated his ability to interface with multiple systems simultaneously, his mind and the AI in his staff working in perfect harmony. Holograms danced around him, showing everything from detailed schematics of Legion warships to real-time data on warp fluctuations in nearby space.

"This," Franklin said, gesturing to Vladimir, "is what you must aspire to. Not all of you will reach this level of mastery, but together, you will be a force that can turn the tide of battle."

He turned to address the group once more. "Remember, your strength lies not in individual power, but in your ability to work as one. You are the shield that protects our brothers from the horrors of the warp. You are the bridge between man and machine. You are the Federal Bureau of Incantations, and you will be the unseen heroes of our Legion."

The Techno-Seers stood at attention, their faces set with determination. Franklin could feel their resolve, their dedication to their unique path.

------------------

Franklin Valorian stood on the observation deck of the newly refitted Sweet Liberty, his eyes scanning the vast expanse of space before him. The void was filled with the glittering hulls of his fleet, each ship a testament to the technological prowess of the Independence Cluster. As he admired the view, he heard the familiar footsteps of Dr. Marcus Hawthorne approaching.

"Lord Valorian," Dr. Hawthorne called out, his voice filled with barely contained excitement. "I have the final report on the upgrades to Sweet Liberty and the rest of the fleet."

Franklin turned, a smile playing on his lips. "Dr. Hawthorne, I trust you bring good news?"

The head of Voidship Engineering nodded enthusiastically, his dataslate clutched tightly in his hands. "Indeed, my lord. We've made significant improvements across the board. But first, I must inform you of a change in classification."

Franklin raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Go on."

"We can no longer classify Sweet Liberty as a Gloriana Class vessel," Dr. Hawthorne explained. "The extensive modifications and upgrades have pushed it beyond that category. We're proposing a new classification: the Archangel Class."

"Archangel Class," Franklin repeated, testing the words. "It has a nice ring to it. And I assume Sweet Liberty isn't the only ship in this new class?"

Dr. Hawthorne nodded. "Correct, my lord. We've taken the Liberty and included the Emperor's Bucephalus in this classification as well, given its noted size advantage over Sweet Liberty. It's the only other vessel we know of that matches or exceeds our capabilities."

Franklin's eyes gleamed with pride. "Excellent. I'm sure my father will be pleased to hear his ship has such distinguished company. Now, tell me about these upgrades you've made."

Dr. Hawthorne's face lit up as he began to detail the improvements. "We've significantly expanded Sweet Liberty's arsenal, my lord. In addition to her existing armaments, we've added Disintegration Cannons and Grav Cannons to her broadside batteries."

"Disintegration Cannons?" Franklin asked, his interest piqued. "You made bigger ones derived from the STC?"

"Yes, my lord," Dr. Hawthorne agreed.

"Impressive," Franklin mused. "And how do these new weapons integrate with our existing systems?"

Dr. Hawthorne pulled up a holographic display from his dataslate, showing a detailed schematic of Sweet Liberty. "We've redesigned the power distribution network to accommodate the increased energy requirements. The ship's AI, Sovereign, has been updated to manage the new weapons systems efficiently."

As the hologram rotated, showing various angles of the massive ship, Franklin could see the new weapon emplacements seamlessly integrated into Sweet Liberty's sleek design.

"What about our defensive capabilities?" Franklin asked, always mindful of protecting his crew and soldiers.

"We've made significant improvements there as well, my lord," Dr. Hawthorne replied. "We've upgraded the void shields with oscillating frequencies, making them more resistant to sustained fire. We've also installed a network of point-defense Grav Cannons to intercept incoming ordinance."

Franklin nodded approvingly. "Excellent work, Doctor. How does Sweet Liberty compare to other flagships now?"

Dr. Hawthorne's chest swelled with pride. "My lord, with these upgrades, Sweet Liberty is arguably the most formidable vessel in the Imperial fleet, second only to the Bucephalus itself. Our simulations show that she could easily hold her own against multiple enemy capital ships simultaneously including the Vengeful Spirit of the Luna Wolves and Hrafknel of the Space Wolves"

"And the rest of the fleet?" Franklin asked, his mind already considering the tactical advantages these upgrades would provide.

"We've applied similar upgrades across the board, scaled appropriately for each ship class," Dr. Hawthorne explained. "The entire Battlefleet Liberty has seen a significant increase in both offensive and defensive capabilities."

Franklin turned back to the viewport, his eyes scanning the fleet with newfound appreciation. "You've done exemplary work, Doctor. These upgrades will serve us well in the campaigns to come."

-----------------

Standing on the vast command bridge of the newly christened Archangel-class voidship, Sweet Liberty, Franklin Valorian gazed out at the infinite stretch of space. The ship hummed with a barely contained power, its systems all at the ready, bristling with weaponry that could level planets and technology that harkened back to the zenith of humanity's golden age. The quiet before a storm lingered in the air, the crew's disciplined efficiency a mere backdrop to the weight of the galaxy outside.

Suddenly, a sharp ping echoed through the bridge, cutting through the hum of machinery. The ship's central AI, Sovereign, projected a flickering hologram before Franklin—an encrypted transmission, bearing the unmistakable seal of the Emperor.

Franklin's eyes narrowed as the transmission opened. The Emperor's voice, deep and resonant, filled the space around him.

"Franklin," the Emperor intoned, each word steeped in gravitas. "You are to make all haste to the Helican Sector. There, we shall meet.Your presence is required."


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