Chapter 7: Cure Diseases and Save Lives!
"Aren't there too many people protecting me?" Francis stroked his chin thoughtfully and gestured toward the group in front of them.
Looking where he pointed, they saw over two hundred people, not just the golden-armoured Custodes, but also the Silent Sisters standing quietly among them.
"Why are we standing here staring at them? Let's go already. " Leman Russ grumbled, his earlier excitement turning into irritation at the sight of the Emperor's guardians.
"The Custodes can never understand the Emperor like a Primarch can!" The Wolf King's voice carried that familiar edge of disdain, and he pulled Francis toward their departure point.
Finally, they left for Prospero.
Meanwhile, several Librarians from the Thousand Sons Legion hid in the shadows of nearby buildings and watched the whole thing.
"What should we do? They're clearly heading for Prospero," one whispered urgently, and every eye turned to Ahriman, their strongest member right now.
The Chief Librarian thought for a moment before speaking. "You've seen that we aren't the only psykers returning. Other Legions have sent their most powerful psychically gifted as well."
"So we do nothing?" The question was heavy with desperation.
Meeting their anxious looks, Ahriman took a deep breath. Right then, he decided to do something that would defy the Emperor's will. "We barely have enough people, but we can send one message to our Primarch."
"Agreed!"
Though shock showed on every face, they accepted his plan without hesitation.
This kind of long-distance psychic transmission was dangerous even for experienced Librarians, and each attempt could end in disaster.
The group moved secretly from the Terra Palace and found refuge in a remote construct far from any prying eyes.
Dozens of Thousand Sons Librarians formed a ritual circle with their eyes closed and faces twisted in concentration. Strange energy began to fill the air.
Ahriman stood at the circle's centre and slowly raised his hands. Veins bulged across his forehead, and when his eyes snapped open, they blazed with bright blue light, a sure sign that his psychic power had reached its peak.
Taking a careful breath, he began chanting an ancient and complex spell. Each word echoed through space like a musical note, creating the pathways that would reach across the void to Prospero.
As the ritual deepened, the energy in the cavern grew stronger until the very air seemed to shake with barely contained force.
Then—
"My Lord Primarch, the Emperor has commanded the Custodes to seek your destruction!"
Brilliant light erupted from Ahriman's palms and formed into a thin beam that shot through stone, up into the sky, and vanished into the Warp.
Before anyone could breathe in relief, voices of Custodes echoed from beyond the cavern entrance.
"Hear it!! You have broken the Emperor's sacred law!"
"You have been granted—"
The words died mid-sentence, replaced by screams from within their ranks.
One Librarian simply... stopped existing. His body exploded in a spray of blood and bone. Nearby, another collapsed in agony as unnatural flesh writhed through the gaps in his armor, pulsing with alien life.
A sickening smell filled the air, and whispers, things that shouldn't be heard, reached every ear present.
Aboard the Heracla Fenrir
Francis was now busy teaching his gene-sons, the remaining Soul Drinkers Legion.
"I'm telling you, the purpose of combat is to defeat the enemy!" Francis tried to maintain a primarch's authority, though his manner was casual.
"This is completely different from some honourable duel!"
"Come on! Let's use Orks as an example!"
The battleship suddenly lurched, violent shaking running through its hull as red psychic alerts blazed throughout the chamber.
In space beyond, a brilliant blue streak swept past their ship before disappearing into the madness of the Warp.
"Wake up! Don't space out on me!" Francis slapped the podium sharply, snapping his distracted sons back to attention.
"As I was saying, let's use Orks as an example..."
The conference room doors burst open with a thunderous crash. Several Custodes stormed inside, their expressions serious beneath those distinctively long golden helmets, which, Francis couldn't help but notice, made them look like a parade of oversized corn.
"Get out! Get out right now!"
"Anyone who dares interrupt my lesson today will experience the power of advanced chemistry!"
As he spoke, Francis held up a tube containing thick black liquid. Even without touching it, everyone present felt an instinctive chill of dread.
The Custodes found themselves forced to retreat and closed the doors behind them with unusual meekness.
"Perfect! I can actually use this as a teaching tool!" Francis's grin turned predatory as he continued shaking the container. "This is super-concentrated acid made from Visken blood, strong enough to eat through standard ceramite like it's tissue paper!"
In the eyes of the Soul Drinkers, their Primarch definitely didn't look like one of the good guys right now.
"Right, we were talking about Orks," Francis nodded to himself. "Orks are enemies who just yell and charge straight at you."
"So there's absolutely no need for honourable close combat!"
"We just spray them with growth compounds and hit them with bright lights!"
Seeing Francis pause expectantly, his captivated audience quickly urged, "And then? What happens next?"
"Then? Then you immediately set them on fire!"
"Before they can react, dump this concentrated acid on them!"
"If they're somehow still moving, break out the bolter grenade launchers, multi-meltas, everything we have!"
"If you can ambush them, never fight them head-on!"
"Attack when the enemy is tired..."
As Francis shared these unconventional fighting methods, the Soul Drinkers felt genuinely enlightened. Their Primarch's tactical wisdom was... unique.
After finishing both hands-on demonstrations and theory lessons, the Legion's warriors found themselves filled with new admiration and pride for Francis.
Next came medical exams. Francis began with Sarpedon, drawing blood and taking a small sample for analysis, directly.
The taste revealed sweetness and salt at first, slight thickness in the middle, with an almost unnoticeable hint of corruption at the end.
"Avoid using your psychic abilities for now. You're showing clear signs of corruption," Francis said, rolling his eyes at Sarpedon. The Librarian's flesh showed obvious signs of forced mutation; someone or something had deliberately mixed spider genetic material into his biology.
"Come with me to the next room. I'll handle your condition first."
Francis stood, collected his medical kit, and headed for the door.
"Why do I—"
Sarpedon started to question, but stopped when he saw Francis's expression darken ominously.
Too late to ask questions now. He'd suffer the consequences later.
Shortly after both left, horrible screams erupted from the neighbouring room and echoed through the conference hall.
"AAAAHHHHHHH!"
These were Astartes, warriors who had undergone extensive human modification since youth, and their pain tolerance was legendary.
To put it simply, Astartes rarely felt pain the way normal humans did.
But hearing those voices, every warrior present felt their skin crawl when they shouldn't. They couldn't imagine what torments Sarpedon was going through.
In reality, the procedure was quite straightforward.
Francis was simply cutting away all mutated flesh and skin from Sarpedon's body with surgical precision.
When bones showed signs of corruption, he would break them cleanly and remove the affected sections, then apply growth compounds to quickly regenerate healthy replacements.
During the tissue regrowth process, he would fine-tune Sarpedon's genetic sequences and eliminate or correct the corrupted strands.
If deformities remained after full regrowth, he would repeat the entire process until the mutation levels dropped to acceptable levels.
Francis examined one particular growth: "Why did you sprout a cluster of... grapes?"
"NO!!!"
Unfortunately, the blade went the wrong way.
The final step involved injecting specialised gene therapy made from his own blood into the patient.
Through previous experiments, Francis had discovered the unique properties of his own genetic material. Most people, when exposed to foreign or mutated genes, would achieve some form of coexistence while keeping separate genetic identities.
Francis's genes worked differently.
His DNA contained special sequences that would actively absorb foreign genetic material while keeping its own purity, a form of controlled genetic conquest.
Simply put, he could absorb other genetic patterns without risking flesh-change or mutation.
This required thoroughly cleaning the patient's genetic template before injection.
Cut deep to heal completely.
For thirty agonising minutes, everyone remaining in the conference room sat on edge, their enhanced senses screaming danger signals and urging immediate evacuation.
When the ordeal ended, Sarpedon returned to the conference room, visibly smaller in size and with legs trembling from exhaustion.
"Next!"
Prospero
A brilliant blue light appeared within Prospero's star system, cut through the cloud layers, and descended toward Tizca, the City of Light.
The psychic message plunged through the atmosphere, pierced the top of the Pyramid of Light at the city's heart, and came to rest in the hands of Magnus the Red as he maintained his meditative trance.
The information unfolded in his mind:
"My Lord Primarch, the Emperor hascommanded a host of Custodes to seek your elimination!"
[End of Chapter]