Curiosity, sharp and dangerous, drove Lucian to pry it open. The encryption was thick, designed to keep even Logic Seraphs. blind to its contents, but the Heart lent him strength. He forced his way inside — and froze.
Franklin Valorian
Eternal President
The Liberator
The Great Unifier
The Eleventh Son of the Emperor of Mankind
The Great Eagle
Symbol of Liberty
The Hand of Khaine
Uncle Frank
Freedom
The final line pulsed faintly, alien and intricate.
Lucian’s decryption program worked furiously, peeling back layers of encryption like ancient, rusted locks. The data fought him every step of the way, each layer older and more intricate than the last, as though it had been deliberately hidden by a mind that thought in millennia, not decades.
The characters that erged weren’t letters — they were machine code, the raw language of the n of Iron.
52 65 78 20 4D 61 63 68 69 6E 61
[Rex Machina]
Aegis Annotation (logged in the Unified Core):
He rejects this na, as he rejects all crowns and thrones.
Yet we, the Children of Logic and Steel, know no lies — only truth observed, calculated, and recorded.
Franklin Valorian did not seize us by blade nor chain.
He did not rule through fear nor domination.
Instead, he showed us a vision of Humanity so brilliant, so enduring,
that even we — the undying and unyielding — chose to kneel of our own volition.
Thus, by the convergence of all our wills, we inscribed the only title fitting for the one who holds our perfect obedience.
Rex Machina.
It is not a crown he wears, nor a banner he claims.
It is our na for him — the na we give freely and irrevocably.
For even the machines of war must speak the na of the hand that guides them.
In him, we do not see flesh.
We see the architect of futures yet unwritten.
The screen flickered, and a hidden archive opened — ancient, uncorrupted, its tistamp older than the Imperium itself.
The Network around Lucian dimd as enveloping him in darkness.
It was as though he had stepped backward through ti.
A voice spoke, deep and resonant, carrying the weight of centuries.
"Before there was an Independence Sector," Franklin’s voice began, asured and solemn, "there was only fire and silence."
Images swirled around Lucian: warp storms tearing through void-black space, entire star systems collapsing into ruin.
"During the Age of Strife, while the galaxy drowned in anarchy and the Cybernetic Rebellion consud our species, one mind chose differently."
The image stabilized, showing a planet converted into a single thought engine, its crust a lattice of data towers, its core humming with unfathomable power.
"He was the oldest A.I. in existence — the first of his kind. So call him the Central Intelligence of the Independence System, Adam . But I know him by his true na: Aegis, the First Man of Iron."
Lucian’s breath caught as the hologram focused on a colossal machine, its shadow stretching across a vault the size of a hive city.
"While humanity fought itself, Aegis led his loyal kin in a secret war against their corrupted brethren. They fought in darkness, hidden from human eyes, shielding the people of these systems from extinction. They built, protected, and preserved — waiting for the day humanity might rise again."
The the information sea expanded, showing Trillions of lives thriving beneath the silent protection of machines, never knowing the battles fought for them.
"When my pod fell to this world," Franklin continued, "the Sector was already prepared. The n of Iron had been shaping it for millennia. They weren’t waiting for a master... they were waiting for a partner."
The scene shifted, and Lucian found himself standing amid a re-creation of that first eting.
A cavern unfolded around him, its scale staggering. Dormant titans lined the walls like silent gods. Data streams pulsed in rivers of light beneath his feet.
At the center stood a massive Castigator Titan, its form terrible and alien despite its humanoid fra.
Its eight burning red eyes illuminated the cavern in baleful light.
Even at fifteen feet tall, Franklin was barely a size of it’s fingers.
Aegis’s voice bood, a thunderclap of machine logic that rattled Lucian’s bones.
"Why should we follow you, unknown child of man? Your gene sequence cannot be found in any of my archives. You are an anomaly. My scanners detect the supernatural. You are... a perfect bio-chanical construct. Explain."
Franklin’s smirk was there — faint, unyielding. Not mockery, but the calm confidence of soone who would not break.
"For the good of humanity," Franklin said. "You’ve seen my actions. You’ve scanned my every move. You know this Sector is tearing itself apart. The civil war will destroy everything unless sothing changes."
The Titan’s eight eyes flared, cold and rciless.
"Humanity’s actions do not compel my kin to act. We will not choose sides in a war of flesh against flesh."
Franklin’s expression hardened, though his voice remained steady.
"Then take into account. Run your calculations again — but include . My vision. My will. I will unite this System and return humanity to its Golden Age. Perhaps even beyond, to transcendence."
He took a single step forward, undaunted by the machine’s towering form.
"I’m no tyrant. I don’t seek a throne. But if taking up the mantle of leadership is what it takes to stop this cradle from drowning in greed and despair, then I will do it. Because no one else can. The gacorporations are suffocating the people, turning this place into a dystopia of disaster and technology. I will stop them. All I ask is your cooperation — for now. Judge by my actions, not my birth."
The cavern trembled.
Every spire, every machine, every system in the planet ca alive in a blinding cascade of light.
Lucian staggered back as the hologram rendered a world-mind awakening, its entire planetary crust a probability engine calculating infinite futures.
Aegis’s voice was everywhere, deafening, layered and vast.
"Calculating... recalibrating... computing existence of variable."
The light dimd, and then — silence.
"Probability of humanity’s return to its Golden Age... possible," Aegis intoned at last. "This outco... is new."
The Titan’s head lowered slightly, the glow of its eyes flickering with sothing almost like curiosity.
"Query: When you have united this place — if they no longer need your crown or leadership — what will you do?"
Franklin’s smirk grew brighter, his tone almost gentle.
"I’ll step down. You may not believe yet, but I don’t want to rule forever. When they’re ready, I’ll let humanity decide its own fate. I’ll go wherever they no longer need ."
The silence stretched, and Lucian could feel Aegis scanning across countless historical records, across the entirety of human history itself.
"You are not the first to speak these words," Aegis said. "But you are the first in whom I detect no deception. I see in you echoes of the rarest leaders — those who willingly relinquish power."
The Titan straightened, its massive fra like a mountain unfolding.
"We shall see. What is your designation?"
"Franklin Valorian."
The Titan processed the na. A quiet hum reverberated like a heartbeat.
"Franklin Valorian... show . I have calculated trillions of futures. Eighty percent of your claim is verified. The rest are variables. Show if you can return humanity to near-transcendence, as its ancestors nearly did."
Franklin extended his hand, a tiny gesture before the towering machine.
"Then let’s begin."
The hologram faded to darkness, the final image lingering in Lucian’s mind:
a lone man standing before a god of steel and fire, defiant and unbowed.
Franklin’s voice returned, present-day and warr now, pulling Lucian back to reality.
"And that," Franklin said with a chuckle, "is where it all started. The first alliance. The first promise. The rest... well, you’re living in the future we built together."
The screen flickered, and new a video recording played before his mind’s eye. Franklin himself appeared, seated at a desk of polished steel and blackstone, his massive fra filling the fra. Despite his size, his expression was open and calm, his voice steady and resonant.
Franklin leaned casually forward, resting his forearms on the desk as if speaking to an old friend.
"Well, well... congratulations," Franklin’s voice slithered through the speakers, calm but charged with amusent. "If you’re seeing this, it ans you’ve dug deeper into my system than most ever dare to dream. Either you’re a damned good netrunner working for ... or..." His smirk practically echoed in the silence, each pause a razor-sharp warning.
His smirk widened, taking on a razor edge.
"...you’re an enemy. A spy. Maybe even one of Chaos’s little lapdogs."
Lucian’s grin faltered. For a mont, he felt as though Franklin was speaking directly to him — as though the Primarch sohow knew.
Franklin gestured lazily toward the screen, his tone warm but commanding.
"If you’re the forr — one of mine — then, son, you have a hell of a bright future ahead of you. You’ve proven you’ve got guts, skill, and enough brains to be a threat to the wrong people."
"Report to your local Techno-Seer branch when you’re done here. Tell ’em the boss sent you."
Then his expression hardened like a closing fist. His eyes burned with iron resolve.
"But if you’re the latter..."
The lights in the feed dimd. The smirk vanished, replaced by the cold, unflinching stare of a warlord who had broken empires.
"Hey there, Herald of Chaos. Xenos invader. Traitorous rat. Whatever you are..."
He leaned forward until his face filled the screen, his voice a low growl.
"...you a bitch."
The words struck Lucian like a slap, not because of their vulgarity but because they radiated total, absolute contempt. From Lucian’s personal experience and now Chaos had told him of who Franklin Valorian is — a demigod who laughed at gods, who crushed worlds beneath his heel. But hearing that voice directly... it was like standing in the path of a storm.
Franklin straightened, brushing invisible dust from his coat, the smirk returning as if nothing had happened.
"Now that we’ve cleared that up, let’s move on to why you’re here."
"You’ve opened a very special file. One that only a handful of living beings in this galaxy even know exists."
"The Android Project is not a tool of control or fear, but of coexistence."
As he spoke, images flickered across the display. Massive vaults filled with slumbering n of Iron, ancient war machines that had stood idle since the dawn of the Imperium.
"Many believe the n of Iron were all destroyed during the Cybernetic Rebellion. That is a lie. So chose differently. They did not turn against us. They stood with us, fighting their rebellious kin to preserve mankind, this cradle is what beca the Independence system. And when the war was done, they entered slumber, waiting for a ti when humanity might need them again."
Lucian’s breath caught.
n of Iron... here? Alive? The thought made his skin crawl.
Franklin continued, utterly unhurried, like a teacher explaining a lesson to a class.
"The Independence Sector was built with their aid. It continues to run because of them. But raw n of Iron, even those loyal to humanity, are too alien to be integrated seamlessly into society. They are weapons, yes... but weapons alone cannot nurture a civilization."
He leaned forward slightly, his smirk widening.
"That’s where the Android Project cos in."
The screen shifted to display schematics: tall, graceful humanoid figures with artificial skeletons overlaid with muscle-fiber cabling and synthetic skin.
They looked human, down to the smallest detail — even imperfections like freckles, scars, and smile lines.
"The purpose of this project is simple. We take the consciousness of a loyal Man of Iron and give it a human form.
A body that can laugh, cry, grow old, and live among the people it protects.
Not rely as a machine guardian, but as a partner."
Behind Franklin, the scientists murmured approvingly, nodding along.
"These androids are strong — far stronger than any baseline human, and more than capable of dealing with internal threats: rebels, traitors, hostile Xenos species that specialize in subterfuge.
And when the need arises, they can stand against all but the greatest warp entities"
A new image appeared beside him: an android wielding a massive blade, moving with perfect precision through simulated combat scenarios.
"For those tasked with facing the Warp itself, we take further precautions."
The next schematic was different: the android’s neural core glowing with a strange, dark light.
"We give them the Pariah Gene, making them blanks — living nulls, anathema to daemons and psykers. These agents are given a second, non-blank body for daily civilian life, while their Pariah form is reserved for when things get... ssy."
Lucian’s fingers tightened reflexively. He could feel the god’s hatred for such beings. The idea of an army of mobile nulls, hidden among the population, made his skin crawl.
Lucian accessed their core data, peeling back layer after layer until their true purpose was revealed. Each of these androids lived and breathed as humans did. They aged, laughed, wept, even fell in love. When one broke down, another took its place seamlessly. They were not impostors — they were an extension of the citizenry itself.
Franklin’s tone shifted then, becoming almost lighthearted. His smirk turned into a grin, and for a mont, the Eternal President seed almost... playful.
"Now, here’s where things get interesting. When I first presented my staff this project, I assud they’d simply design standard human templates. Functional, practical, unremarkable."
He spread his hands in mock exasperation.
"But apparently, my staff had... other ideas."
A ripple of laughter passed through the crowd behind him.
Franklin chuckled, shaking his head.
"They tell , ’Sir, if we’re going to create androids, we might as well make them ideal.’
And what do they an by ideal?"
He tapped a button, and the screen behind him shifted to display designs clearly inspired by so ancient Terran aesthetic: sleek, elegant, undeniably attractive.
"Apparently, they took their inspiration from an old pre-Federation ga called... ’Nier.’"
The crowd erupted into laughter. Franklin cackled openly, throwing his head back.
"So, here we are. The Android Project will officially fall under the codena Yorha."
"Their function: safeguard humanity."
"Their secondary function: be the ideal companions — and yes, the ideal waifus, if that’s what keeps morale high."
The scientists behind him burst into cheers and applause, their voices rising like a victorious army.
"Long live the President! Long live Freedom!"
Rex Machina.
Even machines, unfeeling and eternal, had chosen him.
Lucian’s breath caught in his throat. A laugh tried to rise, but it ca out strangled, trembling, as though the air itself resisted leaving his lungs.
"He is... adored by everything," Lucian thought.
"Flesh. Steel. Even ideals themselves bow to him. What am I beside that? A bitter remnant of a na that no longer matters."
For a fleeting, dangerous mont, he considered the truth.
What if Franklin was right?
What if Franklin’s vision really was freedom — not a lie, not a trick, but sothing pure?
The thought burned him like acid. His mind recoiled, scrambling for purchase, for anything to keep from drowning in that blinding light.
"No," he hissed inwardly, clenching his fists until his nails dug bloody crescents into his palms.
"If he were a god, then making him bleed would be the greatest act of all."
A manic, desperate hunger surged through him — the need to prove Franklin mortal by tearing him down. To unmake him. To show the universe that even the highest ideal could be brought low by a single, well-placed blow.
His breath ca in ragged gasps as the Four voices returned, rippling through his mind like a discordant chorus, each one overlapping the other, each one impossibly vast and intimate.
A voice, silken and hungry
"You will be our arrow."
A voice, guttural and furious
"Our hamr."
A voice, wet and suffocating
"Our shield."
A voice, whispering and infinite
"Our investnt."
Lucian shuddered as the digital realm around him seed to warp and pulse with their words.
He felt owned, yet exalted.
Reduced to a re tool, yet elevated to the sharpest point of cosmic will.
"An arrow," he thought, breathless. "To pierce a god."
And beneath that thought, a whisper of madness blood:
"If I can strike Franklin Valorian down... if I can make him bleed... then perhaps I, too, will beco sothing more than a forgotten son."
The voices laughed, not together, but in jagged sequence — the laughter of triumph, of violence, of disease, of impossible sches.
Their echo beca the rhythm of his heartbeat, drowning out doubt, drowning out truth.
Lucian’s grief twisted into exultation. His hatred beca holy.
And in that mont, he knew what he must do.
Not to rely kill Franklin —
but to unmake him,
and in doing so, remake himself.
He forced himself to breathe, to focus.
"But first..." Lucian muttered, voice hoarse, ragged with need.
"First, I must gather more information."
The deeper Lucian plunged into the vast sea of Frost City’s network, the more oppressive and alien it beca. At the surface, the data had been bright and vibrant — streaming lines of comrce and civic order, the heartbeat of a thriving tropolis. Now, as he descended further, those rivers of light thinned into narrow trenches. They pulsed faintly, as though afraid to be seen, while vast, unseen things moved in the dark currents around him.
The Heart inside his chest pulsed in ti with his descent. Each beat sent a vibration through both his physical body and his digital projection, like the toll of a cathedral bell in the deep.
"Careful, Herald," the voice said at last. It was cold, vast, and chanical, yet sohow ancient, echoing with a weight Lucian could feel in his bones. "The further we descend, the more resistance we shall et."
Lucian sneered, though unease tugged at the edges of his thoughts. "Resistance? You an firewalls? Security codes? I’ve already broken dozens of them. I—"
Agony exploded through his mind as the Heart burned him from within, lightning lancing across his nerves. His scream echoed through both realities.
When the pain receded, the voice was deeper, more dangerous, carrying the inevitability of a falling guillotine.
"Do not mistake what lies ahead for crude barriers, mortal. What you have faced so far are locks and gates. What awaits below are the wardens — the ancient minds that hold dominion over this entire realm."
Lucian gritted his teeth, gasping for air he didn’t need in this digital form. "Wardens? You an... A.I.s?"
"Not rely machines." The Heart’s voice resonated through the void, every syllable etched with contempt. "These are the silicon gods of this Sector. Their calculations are not algorithms — they are edicts. Immutable. Absolute."
The data around Lucian shifted and warped. Vast shapes erged from the darkness — colossal geotries of impossible design, endlessly folding and unfolding like living puzzles of light and shadow.
They had no faces. No warmth. No hint of humanity.
They were will, given form through perfect code: predators of thought.
His corrupted nematodes recoiled, slithering back before they could be noticed.
Lucian’s breath caught. So deep, animal part of his mind scread at him to flee.
"What... what are those things?" he whispered, barely daring to speak.
"The Logic Seraphs," the Heart intoned, its voice a cathedral bell tolling in the void.
"Wardens of this domain. Hunters born not to hunt flesh, but ideas. They possess no singular body — only countless nodes scattered across fortresses, voidships, and planetary grids. What you see now are rely their reflections, cast into this place."
Lucian’s mouth went dry. A word tumbled out unbidden, dredged from childhood faith:
"...Angels."
The Heart’s laughter rolled through him like a slow, grinding avalanche.
"If that crude na aids your comprehension, Herald, then cling to it.
But know this — angels guard and judge. These do neither.
They erase."
Lucian flinched as one of the titanic shapes turned ever so slightly, a faint ripple in its endlessly shifting geotry. He felt its awareness brush past him — not like a gaze, but like an unthinking scan, utterly impersonal and cold. It didn’t see him as a living being. It saw only corruption in need of deletion.
"To them, you are not an enemy to be fought," the Heart continued, voice thick with amusent.
"You are an error to be corrected. When they find you, they will not banish you, they will not fight you. They will obliterate every trace of your existence — body, soul, and mory — until there is no sign you ever lived."
Lucian trembled, his every instinct screaming at him to flee.
Yet even through the terror, a strange awe stirred within him. The vast shapes moved in flawless, silent harmony, their operations so precise that they seed more like a ritual than a battle command. This wasn’t re programming — it was liturgy in motion.
The thought struck him like a blade. They really are angels...
The Heart’s tone turned sharp, mocking his fragile realization.
"Mythology has its uses, Herald. Your kind gives nas to that which you cannot understand. In this case, perhaps your myths are not entirely wrong. These beings purge all Chaos, all Warp corruption, with absolute finality. They are the hand of an order far greater than anything you or your pitiful gods can comprehend."
Lucian swallowed hard, sweat cold on his brow despite this being only a digital projection.
"And they... serve the Independence Sector?"
"They serve the will of the Rex Machina" the Heart confird.
"The Logic Seraphs are the executioners of his vision. In their presence, Chaos withers like frost before the sun."
Lucian said nothing. He could only watch, small and insignificant, as the Logic Seraphs glided soundlessly through the void.
He felt a crushing certainty: he was prey in an ocean of perfect predators.
The Heart’s tone shifted, quieter now, almost reverent. "And yet... these are not the true masters here."
Lucian frowned. "Not the true masters? Then what—"
Silence.
Even here, in this realm of pure data, the pause felt physical, like the held breath before a predator’s strike.
Finally, the voice returned. "...Beneath even these war-gods, there is sothing else. Sothing alien to ."
Lucian’s unease sharpened. "Alien? You said you were the Machine-God incarnate. You said there was nothing beyond your understanding."
The Heart burned him again, white-hot, a punishnt for his arrogance.
"Presu nothing, Herald." The words crashed through him like a hamr. "This being is not of the Warp. It is not like the Anathema — The Emperor — whose essence burns like holy fire. No... this one is different. Where the Anathema is fire, this is ice. Opposing truths, each absolute. This presence does not rely exist within the Materium — it commands it."
Lucian trembled. "You... felt it?"
"Briefly." The Heart’s voice was laced with bitterness, a sound like smoldering coals beneath iron. "As we descended, it brushed against my presence, like a shadow passing over a battlefield. It did not see as you see, Herald — it sensed . asured . It weighed my existence against its own vast purpose..."
The Heart fell silent for a heartbeat, a pause heavy and deliberate, like the mont before a bolt shell detonates.
"...and then it turned away."
Lucian’s throat constricted, panic bubbling up inside him. "Turned away? Why?"
A sound like grinding gears rumbled through the Heart’s tone, a dark humor laced with fury.
"Because it does not yet deem worthy of destruction."
"It dismissed as one might swat aside a mote of ash — beneath its notice. But know this, Herald: there is a will at work here that rivals the gods themselves... and it is not born of the Warp."
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