The Primarch of Liberty

Chapter 7: The Rangdan Extermination



The void around Advex-Mors shimmered as reality itself seemed to tear apart. From the Warp emerged a fleet unlike any the galaxy had seen since the Dark Age of Technology. At its head, the massive Gloriana-class flagship "Sweet Liberty" cut through space, its sleek, triangular form bristling with weaponry that defied conventional understanding.

On the bridge of Sweet Liberty, Primarch Franklin Valorian stood tall, his 15-foot frame dominating the command deck. His brown eyes twinkled with anticipation as he surveyed the holographic display of the Rangdan system.

"Sovereign," Valorian called out, addressing the ship's AI, "give me a status report on our fleet."

A disembodied voice, smooth and authoritative, filled the bridge. "All ships report ready, Primarch. The element of surprise remains in our favor. Rangdan defenses show no signs of alertness."

Valorian's lips curled into a grin. "Perfect. Let's remind these xenos why human rights are for humans. Sovereign, open a channel to all ships."

"Channel open, Primarch."

Valorian's voice boomed across the entire fleet, reaching every Astartes, every Liberty Guardsman, and every crew member. "Sons and daughters of Liberty, today we bring the light of humanity to this xenos-infested hellhole. Remember, we're not just fighting for the Imperium - we're fighting for the right to party! Now, let's give these Rangdan bastards a fireworks show they'll never forget!"

A chorus of cheers erupted across the channel. Valorian nodded, satisfaction evident on his face. "All ships, commence Operation Thunderclap. Fire at will!"

The void lit up as thousands of Nuclear Warheads streaked towards the unsuspecting Rangdan worlds. Each warhead contained enough firepower to level a continent, their yields boosted by technology long thought lost to humanity.

On the bridge of Sweet Liberty, Valorian watched the unfolding destruction with a never- wavering smile. "Now that's what I call shock and awe," he quipped, even as the first detonations began to register on the holographic display.

"Sweet Liberty, fire main cannon," Valorian ordered, a glint of excitement in his eyes. "Let's see what this baby can really do."

The flagship's prow split open, revealing a weapon that seemed to defy the laws of physics. The Graviton Singularity Cannon, a marvel of Dark Age technology, hummed with barely contained power.

"Graviton pumps primed, anti-matter streams stable," Sovereign reported. "Targeting Rangdan fortress moon."

"Fire," Valorian commanded, his voice filled with anticipation.

A pulse of dark energy erupted from the cannon, streaking across the void towards the Rangdan fortress moon. As it struck, reality itself seemed to warp and twist. For a brief moment, nothing happened. Then, with a silent flash, a miniature black hole sprang into existence at the point of impact.

The fortress moon shuddered, its surface beginning to crack and fragment as the irresistible pull of the singularity took hold. Chunks of rock and metal were torn away, spiraling into the voracious maw of the black hole. Within seconds, the entire moon was consumed, leaving nothing but empty space where it once stood.

Valorian's eyes widened in awe and shock. "Holy Terra," he whispered. "Sovereign, status report!"

"Singularity stable and expanding, Lord Valorian," the AI responded, a note of urgency in its usually calm voice. "Recommend immediate deactivation to prevent uncontrolled growth."

"Do it!" Valorian ordered, suddenly realizing the potential danger.

The Graviton Singularity Cannon powered down, its energy signature fading. The black hole, robbed of its sustaining power, collapsed in on itself with a final, reality-bending flash.

Valorian let out a low whistle. "Now that's what I call firepower. Remind me to thank the Engineers back home for this little beauty."

"Weapon system cool-down initiated," Sovereign reported. "May I suggest a more... restrained use of the main cannon in the future, Lord Valorian?"

Valorian chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Point taken, Sovereign. But you have to admit, that was one hell of a fireworks display. Now, let's get back to the task at hand. We've got a xenos infestation to clear out."

The first wave of Nuclear Warheads struck home, and entire continents vanished in blinding flashes of light. Mushroom clouds bloomed across the surfaces of Rangdan worlds, their stems reaching into the upper atmosphere. The attacks came so swiftly, so unexpectedly, that the xenos had no time to mount any form of defense.

"Eagle's Nest to all units," Valorian's voice cut through the comm chatter, "status report!" "This is Captain Jeffersion of the 5th Company," came the first reply. "Primary targets on Advex-Mors Alpha are confirmed destroyed. No signs of organized resistance."

"Liberty Guard 3rd Regiment reporting," another voice chimed in. "Advex-Mors Beta's orbital defenses are down. Requesting permission to commence drop-pod assault." Valorian's grin widened. "Permission granted, Colonel. Give 'em hell! All ships, maintain bombardment. I want these worlds to glow in the dark when we're done!"

The fleet responded with another salvo, this time accompanied by lances of energy that cut through space like the wrath of an angry god. Rangdan ships, caught completely off-guard, exploded in silent bursts of fire as they were torn apart by the Liberty Eagles' advanced

weaponry.

"Sir," a young officer called out, "we're detecting attempts at communication from the Rangdan leadership. They're trying to surrender."

Valorian's expression hardened. "Surrender? After what they've done to human worlds? I think not. Sovereign, jam all their communications. We're not here to negotiate."

"Understood, Primarch. Jamming all Rangdan frequencies."

As the assault continued, reports flooded in from all corners of the Advex-Mors system. Astartes drop-pods pierced the atmosphere of multiple worlds, while Liberty Guard regiments made planetfall in sleek, advanced landers that laughed in the face of anti-aircraft

fire.

"This is Sergeant Maxwell, 7th Company," a voice crackled over the vox. "We've made planetfall on Advex-Mors Gamma. Encountering scattered resistance, but nothing we can't

handle."

"Liberty Guard 2nd Battalion here," another voice added. "We're moving to support the Astartes. These xenos don't know what hit them!"

Valorian listened to the exchanges with pride. "You hear that, Sovereign? That's the sound of freedom ringing across the stars."

"Indeed, Primarch. The coordination between Astartes and Liberty Guard units is operating at peak efficiency."

Hours passed, and the assault showed no signs of slowing. The void around Advex-Mors was filled with the constant flashes of explosions and weapons fire. Valorian moved from station to station on the bridge, offering words of encouragement and the occasional joke to his crew.

The skies of Advex-Mors burned. Trails of fire streaked through the atmosphere as thousands of drop pods and landing craft pierced the cloud cover. The Liberty Eagles had come, and with them, the promise of utter annihilation for the Rangdan.

On the bridge of Sweet Liberty, Primarch Franklin Valorian watched the deployment with a grim smile. "Sovereign," he addressed the ship's AI, "give me a status report on our landing

operations."

"Landing operations proceeding as planned, Primarch," the AI responded. "Liberty Guard units are establishing beachheads on all major continents of Advex-Mors Alpha through Epsilon. Astartes drop pods are on course for designated high-priority targets." Valorian nodded, his brown eyes glinting with determination. "Excellent. Open a channel to

all ground forces."

"Channel open, Primarch."

"Warriors of the Imperium," Valorian's voice boomed across the comms, reaching every

soldier and Astartes on the planet's surface, "the xenos thought they could hide from the Emperor's wrath. They were wrong. Show no mercy, take no prisoners. This is not just war - this is extermination. For the Emperor and for Liberty!"

The skies of Advex-Mors burned as drop pods and landing craft pierced the atmosphere. Liberty Guardsmen, the elite human soldiers of Franklin Valorian's forces, were the first to make planetfall. Their sleek, advanced dropships touched down on predetermined landing zones, establishing beachheads with practiced efficiency.

Colonel Sarah Revere, commander of the 3rd Liberty Guard Regiment, was among the first to set foot on Advex-Mors Alpha. Her voice crackled over the comms, "Beachhead Alfa secured. All units, fan out and commence extermination protocols."

Within moments, the Liberty Guardsmen poured out of their transports. Clad in advanced carapace armor that put standard Imperial Guard equipment to shame, they moved with purpose and deadly intent. Tanks rolled out of larger landers, their energy shields shimmering as they took up defensive positions.

The air filled with the distinct whine of pulse weapons as the Guardsmen opened fire on any surviving Rangdan. Blue bolts of energy cut through the alien ranks with devastating effect, each shot finding its mark with unerring accuracy.

"Move it, people!" she barked. "Establish the perimeter and prepare for the next wave!"

As if on cue, the sky filled with more landers and jets. The air crackled with energy as pulse weapons fire lit up the smoky horizon. Rangdan survivors, dazed from the orbital assault, found themselves facing a relentless tide of humanity's finest.

Rodriguez watched as a squadron of Liberty Eagle jets screamed overhead, their smart missile pods unleashing a barrage on a distant Rangdan stronghold. The resulting explosion sent a shockwave across the battlefield.

"Emperor's teeth," muttered Private Jenkins beside her. "Overkill much?"

Rodriguez grinned. "There's no such thing as overkill, rookie. Only 'open fire' and 'I need to

reload.'"

As the Guardsmen pushed forward, establishing beachheads across the planet's surface, the distinctive sound of Astartes drop pods hitting the ground echoed across the battlefield. Captain Alexandros of the Liberty Eagles 3rd Company emerged from his drop pod, heavy pulse rifle scanning for targets. "Brothers, to me!" he called out. "The xenos filth ends here!" The Astartes moved with superhuman speed and precision, their advanced power armor shrugging off the sporadic Rangdan return fire. Energy shields flickered as they absorbed impacts, leaving the Space Marines unscathed.

"For the Emperor and Imperium!" shouted Brother-Sergeant Octavius, a veteran of countless

campaigns.

"For Freedom!" added Brother Novius, one of the newer recruits.

Captain Alexandros nodded approvingly. "For Freedom, Emperor, and Valorian!" he roared,

uniting the battle cries of old and new.

As the Astartes advanced, they coordinated seamlessly with the Liberty Guard units. The mortals provided cover fire and identified targets, while the Space Marines delivered devastating strikes against the most fortified Rangdan positions.

"We've got heavy resistance in sector 7!" Rodriguez's voice crackled over the vox. "We need

some big boys over here!"

A deep, rumbling chuckle came over the channel. "Did somebody say big boys?" Brother

Maximus of the Astartes responded. "Hold tight, Guardsman. The Emperor's finest are

incoming."

Moments later, a squad of Astartes in Terminator armor teleported into the heart of the Rangdan position. Their heavy pulse cannons made short work of the xenos defenses, clearing the way for the Guard to advance.

As the battle raged on, the superior technology of the Liberty Eagles became increasingly apparent. Rangdan energy weapons, formidable against most foes, barely scratched the paint

on the Astartes' armor. Each revealed position was met with overwhelming firepower, smart missiles homing in on targets with unerring accuracy.

Private Jenkins stared in awe as an Astartes effortlessly lifted a wrecked Rangdan vehicle, clearing a path for the Guard's armored column. "I knew they were strong, but damn..."

Rodriguez chuckled. "That's why we call them the big boys, rookie. Now keep your eyes on the objective!"

Across the planet, similar scenes played out. The Liberty Eagles and their Guard allies moved

with ruthless efficiency, their advanced detection technology ensuring no Rangdan escaped

their notice.

On Advex-Mors Gamma, Brother-Apothecary Lucius scanned a seemingly empty building with his auspex. "Life signs detected," he reported. "Xenos biosignatures."

Captain Titus nodded. "Flush them out. No survivors."

A barrage of smart missiles reduced the structure to rubble, and any Rangdan that emerged

were cut down by precise pulse rifle fire.

The camaraderie between the Astartes and Guardsmen was evident throughout the operation. Veterans of both forces fought side by side, their trust forged in the fires of countless battles.

"Watch your left, big guy!" a Guardswoman called out to an Astartes, moments before a Rangdan ambusher revealed itself.

The Space Marine spun, his reflexes enhanced by both training and technology. His pulse rifle spoke once, and the xenos threat was eliminated. "My thanks, sister," he nodded to the Guardswoman. "The Emperor protects, but so do vigilant allies."

As the day wore on, the Rangdan resistance crumbled. Their once-mighty fortresses lay in ruins, their advanced technology no match for the relentless assault of the Liberty Eagles. Primarch Franklin Valorian's voice boomed across all channels. "Outstanding work, my sons and daughters! The xenos threat is nearly eradicated. Let's finish this with style!"

On Advex-Mors Gamma, a squad of Liberty Guardsmen approached a fortified Rangdan structure. Without hesitation, the squad leader signaled for his men to halt. "Corporal," he barked, "prep the rad-grenades. Let's make sure this building is nice and toasty before we go in."

The Corporal nodded, a grim smile on his face. "With pleasure, sir." Multiple Rad grenades sailed through the air, crashing through windows and landing inside

the structure. Moments later, sickly green light poured from every opening, accompanied by inhuman shrieks of agony.

In the midst of this carnage, a massive Stormbird gunship descended from the clouds. Its

ramp lowered, revealing the towering form of Primarch Franklin Valorian, flanked by his elite Secret Service bodyguards.

"Well, boys," Valorian grinned, his voice carrying easily over the din of battle, "shall we join

the party?" With a roar of approval from his men and the cautious look of John Ezra his head of the Secret

Service, Valorian strode forward, his massive frame moving forward. He paused at the edge of the frontlines, surveying the battlefield with a critical eye. Suddenly, Valorian's head jerked to the side, a hypersonic round passing through the space where it had been a split second before. His expression never changed, the smile never leaving

his face.

"Denzel," he said casually to his 1st Captain, "from which direction did our xenos friend just

try to ruin my day?"

"That way, sir." Denzel said

Valorian's grin widened, a mischievous glint in his eye. "That way, you say? Well, my good

friend, I believe I would very much like 'That Way' deleted from the map. Be a pal and make it happen, would you?"

Denzel's smirk turned predatory, matching his Primarch's humor. "With pleasure, sir. I've

always wanted to delete a direction from existence." He keyed his vox, his voice now deadly serious. "All units, priority target. Delete 'That Way.' Fire for effect."

The response was immediate and overwhelming. Every weapon on the battlefield capable of

reaching the target zone swiveled and opened fire. Pulse rifles, heavy weapons, tank cannons, and orbital strikes all converged on a single point.

For a brief moment, just before the barrage hit, enhanced auspex scans revealed a hidden

Rangdan unit, their cloaking technology failing under the intense scrutiny. Then the entire area vanished in a blinding flash of light and a thunderous roar that shook the ground. When the dust settled, all that remained was a massive, glassy crater where 'That Way' used

to be. Valorian nodded in satisfaction. "Now that's what I call responsive fire support. Remind me to commend the gunners for their excellent grasp of directions, Denzel." "Of course, sir," Denzel replied dryly. "I'm sure they'll appreciate your guidance on the finer

points of celestial navigation."

Primarch Franklin Valorian's voice boomed across all channels, filling every vox unit with his characteristic mix of pride and humor. "Outstanding work, Eagles! We came, we saw, we kicked xenos ass. Now, let's wrap this up so we can get back to more important things... like planning the victory parade!"

His words were met with cheers and laughter from both Astartes and Guardsmen. As the last echoes of battle faded from the Advex-Mors system, a new army arrived. Not one

of warriors, but of scientists, engineers, and terraformers. Their weapons were not guns and bombs, but the preserved and perfected technologies of humanity's golden age.

Dr. Elena Hawking, lead scientist of the Independence Cluster's Terraforming Corps, stepped

off her shuttle onto the scarred surface of Advex-Mors Alpha. Her eyes, protected by advanced holographic goggles, scanned the desolate landscape.

"By the Emperor," she whispered, "we've got our work cut out for us." Behind her, massive cargo ships began to descend, their holds filled with terraforming equipment that would have made the Adeptus Mechanicus weep with envy. There were no chants to machine spirits here, no rituals or anointing oils. Just pure, unadulterated science. "Alright, team," Dr. Hawking called out, her voice carried to every member of her corps

through subdermal vox implants. "Let's make this dead rock breathe again." The first order of business was radiation cleansing. Towering machines, looking more like works of art than industrial equipment, were quickly assembled. They hummed to life, their energy fields expanding to cover vast swathes of land.

Dr. Marcus Feynman, head of the Radiation Cleansing Division, monitored the process from a floating command center. "Incredible," he muttered, watching as the radiation levels plummeted on his holographic displays. "At this rate, we'll have the entire planet cleansed in

a matter of days, not years."

Meanwhile, on Advex-Mors Beta, atmospheric restoration was already underway. Massive atmospheric processors, each the size of a small city, had been deployed from orbit. They worked tirelessly, converting the toxic atmosphere into breathable air.

Dr. Sophia Curie, leading the Atmospheric Division, smiled as she reviewed the data. "Oxygen

levels are rising steadily. We're introducing the tailored bacteria now to speed up the process. At this rate, we'll have a breathable atmosphere in less than a month."

Back on Alpha, Dr. Hawking was overseeing the most ambitious part of the terraforming process geological restructuring. Machines that could have been mistaken for Imperial Titans, if not for their distinctly non-militaristic design, were literally moving mountains. "Careful with that tectonic shifter!" she called out to an operator. "We want to create a mountain range, not a volcanic chain!"n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

The operator, his mind directly linked to the machine through a neural interface, made minute adjustments. Slowly but surely, a new mountain range began to rise from the once- flat plain.

On Advex-Mors Gamma, the focus was on hydrosphere restoration. Dr. Alan Turing II, great- grandson of the legendary tech-pioneer, was directing the creation of new oceans. "Comets incoming!" he announced, as specially prepared ice comets, towed from the system's Oort cloud, were guided to precise impact points on the planet's surface. Each impact released massive amounts of water and vital minerals, jumpstarting the planet's water cycle.

As the first rains began to fall on Gamma, Dr. Turing allowed himself a moment of pride.

"Take that, Mars," he chuckled. "We'll have oceans here before you get your first puddle." The terraforming process continued at an astonishing pace. Where the Adeptus Mechanicus might have taken centuries, the scientists and engineers of the Independence Cluster were working miracles in months. On Delta, Dr. Hawking was overseeing the introduction of genetically engineered flora. "These plants are designed to thrive in the new environment we're creating," she explained

to a group of colonists who had arrived to begin construction of the first outposts. "They'll

accelerate the oxygen production and help stabilize the soil."

As she spoke, automated planting drones swarmed across the landscape, sowing the seeds of

forests that would grow at an accelerated rate. Within weeks, the first green shoots would appear. Within months, vast forests would cover the once-barren plains. Meanwhile, on Epsilon, Dr. Feynman was tackling a unique challenge. "The Rangdan left

some nasty surprises in the planet's crust," he reported to Dr. Hawking. "Some kind of

xenotech that's interfering with our terraforming efforts." Dr. Hawking frowned. "Can you neutralize it?"

Feynman grinned. "Already on it. We've repurposed some of the Liberty Eagles' advanced

detection tech. We're not just cleaning the planet's surface; we're purging every last trace of xenos influence right down to the core."

As the terraforming efforts continued, the first human colonies began to take shape. Unlike

the crude hab-blocks often seen in rushed Imperial colonization efforts, these were marvels

of engineering and comfort.

Architect Zaha Hadid IV, descendent of the famous Old Earth designer, stood proudly before the first completed colony dome on Advex-Mors Alpha. "We're not just building shelters,"

she declared to the assembled colonists. "We're creating homes. Each dome is a self- contained arcology, capable of supporting tens of thousands in comfort and safety."

As the months passed, the transformation of the Advex-Mors system was nothing short of miraculous. Barren wastelands became verdant paradises. Toxic atmospheres turned to sweet, breathable air. Dead worlds pulsed with new life. Dr. Hawking, standing on a bluff overlooking a newly created sea on Advex-Mors Alpha, allowed herself a moment of reflection. "We've done in months what the Imperium at large

would take millennia to achieve," she mused. "This is the true power of science, unfettered by superstition or dogma."

The Massive Hall of Events of "Sweet Liberty" had been decorated for partying numerous

long tables groaning under the weight of food and drink. The air was thick with the smell of

barbecue and the sound of laughter.

Primarch Franklin Valorian stood at the center of it all, a massive tankard in one hand and a equally large turkey leg in the other. His booming voice carried over the din, "Alright, my

Eagles! We worked hard, we kicked xenos ass, and now it's time to party like there's no tomorrow!"

A deafening cheer went up from the assembled Astartes and Liberty Guardsmen. The celebration had begun in earnest.

Captain Jeffersion, his usual stern demeanor softened by several pints of Liberty Beer, raised

his glass. "To the Emperor, to Valorian, and to freedom!"

"To freedom!" the crowd roared back, downing their drinks in unison. Near the barbecue pits, Sergeant Maxwell was engaged in an intense eating contest with a group of Liberty Guardsmen. Despite their enhanced physiology, the Astartes were finding the humans to be fierce competitors when it came to consuming vast quantities of ribs and

brisket.

"By the Emperor," Maxwell gasped, sauce dripping from his chin, "where do you put it all, Private Rodriguez?"

The wiry Guardsman grinned, reaching for another rack of ribs. "Trade secret, sir. My mama

always said I had a hollow leg."

On the makeshift dance floor, Astartes and Guardsmen alike were attempting to outdo each

other with increasingly elaborate moves. Brother-Techmarine Franklinson, his servo-arms

swaying to the beat, was proving to be an unexpectedly graceful dancer.

"Who knew the Omnissiah blessed you with such rhythm, brother?" shouted Captain

Adamson over the pounding music.

Franklinson's reply was lost as the crowd erupted in cheers. Primarch Valorian had taken to

the dance floor, his massive frame moving with surprising agility. The sight of their gene-

father cutting loose only fueled the party's energy. In one corner, a group of veterans had set up an impromptu arm-wrestling tournament. Brother-Sergeant Washington, his bicep straining, was locked in an epic battle with Colonel

Sarah Revere of the Liberty Guard.

"Come on, Colonel," Washington grunted, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. "Show

us what the Guard is made of!"

Revere, her face red with exertion, managed a grin. "Oh, I intend to, Sergeant. I intend to."

To the shock and delight of the onlookers, Revere slammed Washington's arm to the table with a triumphant yell. The Astartes stared in disbelief for a moment before breaking into

appreciative applause.

"Well done, Colonel!" Washington laughed, shaking out his arm. "I think I'll stick to arm- wrestling Orks from now on!" Near the drink stations, an enterprising group of Guardsmen had set up a series of drinking

games. Beer pong, flip cup, and more esoteric contests involving elaborate drinking vessels

were in full swing.

Private Zhen, swaying slightly, attempted to explain the rules of a particularly complex game

to a bewildered-looking Astartes. "So, you see, Brother, when the grox-headed emperor is

face up, you have to..."

The explanation was cut short as Zhen's attempt to demonstrate ended with him face-

planting into a nearby table, much to the amusement of his audience. In the center of the hangar, a massive holographic display showed the ongoing terraforming efforts on the Advex-Mors planets. Even in the midst of celebration, many partygoers paused

to marvel at the transformation taking place.

Dr. Elena Hawking, enjoying a rare moment of relaxation, found herself explaining the process to a group of fascinated Astartes. "You see, brothers, the atmospheric processors are now in their final stage. In just a few more days, you'll be able to breathe the air on Alpha

without your power armor."

"Incredible," murmured Brother-Librarian Madisonian. "It's like watching the Emperor's own work unfold before our eyes." As the night wore on, the party showed no signs of slowing down. Impromptu contests and challenges sprang up everywhere. A group of Liberty Guardsmen were attempting to see how many of them could fit inside a Terminator suit, while nearby, an Astartes was trying to recite the entire Independence Cluster Laws backwards while standing on his head. Primarch Valorian, making his rounds through the celebration, paused to chat with a group of

newly inducted Astartes. "Enjoying yourselves, lads?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with

mirth.

"Yes, Lord Valorian!" they chorused, their youthful enthusiasm evident even through their

genetically enhanced stoicism.

Valorian grinned. "Good! Remember this moment, my sons. This is what we fight for. Not just

duty, not just survival, but for the joy of living. For the right to celebrate our victories and

cherish our bonds of brotherhood."

His words, though spoken casually, carried weight. The young Astartes nodded solemnly,

even as they raised their glasses in a toast to their Primarch. John Ezra, the grizzled head of Valorian's Secret Service, watched the proceedings with a mixture of amusement and resigned acceptance. He nursed a drink, his watchful eyes never

ceasing their scan of the room despite the festive atmosphere. "Lighten up, Johnny," Valorian said, clapping a massive hand on Ezra's shoulder. "Even you

are allowed to enjoy the fruits of our victory."

Ezra's stern expression softened slightly. "Someone has to keep a clear head, sir. But I must admit, it is good to see the men and women letting loose after such a campaign." Valorian nodded, his expression growing serious for a moment. "Indeed it is, John. They've

earned this respite. The road ahead will not be easy, but moments like these... they remind us

what we're fighting for."

As if to punctuate his point, a cheer went up from a nearby group. A young Guardsman had just

proposed to his girlfriend, another soldier who had fought alongside him in the campaign.

Valorian's face split into a wide grin.

"Now that's what I call a happy ending! Drinks for the happy couple, on me!" As the night wore on, the celebration showed no signs of slowing. Impromptu dance contests

broke out, with Astartes and Guardsmen alike showing off moves that ranged from impressive

to hilariously awkward.

"My Eagles!" he boomed, his voice cutting through the noise. "Today, we celebrate not just

our victory over the Rangdan, but the birth of a new star system for humanity. The Advex-

Mors cluster stands as a testament to what we can achieve when we combine martial might

with scientific prowess."

He paused, letting his words sink in. "But let us not forget, this is but the first step on our

grand

journey. There are more worlds to liberate, more xenos to vanquish, and by the

Emperor, more parties to throw!"

The crowd roared its approval, raising their drinks in a massive toast.

"To the Liberty Eagles!" Valorian cried.

"To freedom!" the crowd responded.

"To the Imperium!" he continued.

"To humanity!" came the answer.

"And to the biggest hangover the galaxy has ever seen!" Valorian finished with a wink.

The resulting cheer was loud enough to be heard in the vacuum of space. As the celebration continued into the early hours, Valorian found a quiet moment with Denzel

and John. The three of them stood at a viewport, gazing out at the transformed worlds of the

Advex-Mors

system.

"Not a bad day's work," Denzel mused, sipping his drink. "Indeed," John agreed, allowing himself a rare smile. "Though the cleanup tomorrow will

be... interesting."

Valorian chuckled. "That's a problem for future us. For now, let's enjoy this moment. We've

given the Imperium a glimpse of what we can do. And this, my friends, is just the beginning."

As they clinked their glasses together, the Sweet Liberty and it's Fleet continued its vigil over the newly reborn system. The party raged on, a celebration of life, victory, and the

unbreakable spirit of the Liberty Eagles. In the grim darkness of the far future, they had

carved out a moment of joy, a reminder of what they fought to protect.

And as for the hangover Valorian had promised? Well, that was a battle for another day.