Astartes Second Legion Punishers, Serial Number Conquered World—Universe 117.
On the outer edge of the Milky Way, between the Centaurus Arm and the Perseus Arm, within the minor Orion Arm, in alien territory, Pilgrimage IX Star Sector, on a primitive planet devoid of intelligent life.
(PS: The Solar System is located in the Orion Arm, approximately 26,000 light-years from the center of the Milky Way.)
From tens of thousands of kilometers in space, the crimson rocky landscape below reveals no trace of green. Massive hurricanes sweep across the planetary surface, with dust storms blotting out the sky, leaving visibility pitifully low.
Yet, despite its utter lack of habitation or resource value, a sizable alien fleet has gathered in orbit around this planet.
The ships vary in size, each with distinct specifications and purposes, but they all share a sleek, smooth exterior, a large central bridge, and a streamlined, biomechanical appearance.
A distant, blurry observation gives a rough impression—some resemble "flies," others "cockroaches," and some look like "beetles."
Just by their appearance, it is clear that this fleet belongs to an alien species, entirely distinct from the rigid, utilitarian design of the Imperial Navy warships.
At this moment, a furious roar echoes through the central bridge of the leading alien warship in the heart of the fleet.
Unlike the angular, rigidly geometric structures of the Imperial Navy, the interior of this alien warship is filled with curves and arcs, exuding an organic, biomechanical aesthetic.
A humanoid creature, approximately 2.3 to 2.4 meters tall.
It possesses two arms and two legs, with relatively slender upper limbs and thick, powerful lower limbs. It wears an ornate, bronze-red suit of armor and a large, crowned helmet. The exposed areas of its face and neck display grayish-blue skin.
The most striking feature is its four-parted mandible-like mouth.
"Aargh! Aaargh! Aaah~?!" (Sangheili language)
Are you all incompetent?! A supply unit composed of Jiralhanae (Brutes) vanished right under our noses—within our own Covenant Pilgrimage Sector?!
The bronze-armored commander bellowed. The twitching of its facial muscles and the expression in its eyes made it clear—it was enraged.
"Roar! Aaargh!"
Tell me! How am I supposed to explain this to the Prophets?!
Around the platform where the bronze-armored commander stood, a group of blue-armored Sangheili of the same species stood watching, their expressions full of undisguised arrogance and disdain.
The Sangheili (Elites) are the military leadership of the Covenant.
Alongside the San'Shyuum (Prophets)—who hold administrative and decision-making power while providing religious and political order—they form the ruling class of the Covenant. Their authority is second only to the Prophets within the Covenant hierarchy.
Once enlisted, nearly all Sangheili are equipped with precision-crafted armor and energy shields. Their combat prowess rivals that of Spartan warriors, and they are proficient in wielding plasma weapons and energy swords.
Because they always serve as battlefield commanders in Covenant warfare, they are referred to as Elites by the U.N.S.C. (United Nations Space Command).
Below the platform, a group of towering, burly, and immensely powerful ape-like creatures stood silently, enduring the scolding from the Elite Sangheili commander.
These creatures have square faces, flat noses, large nostrils, and coarse gray skin that looks as solid as granite. Their faces, covered in rough textures, appear extremely unrefined. They wear heavy and rugged armor, which, by human aesthetic standards, makes them appear utterly hideous.
Due to their strong resemblance to primates from Earth, the U.N.S.C. soldiers who first encountered them named them Brutes (Jiralhanae).
"Aargh! Aargh! Aargh~!"
Go find it! If you fail to recover the relic, you—you all—will answer with your lives!
Despite their massive builds, which seemed superior to the Elites (Sangheili), the Brutes (Jiralhanae) displayed a demeanor completely at odds with their fierce appearances. They appeared almost "respectful" as they silently accepted the commander's reprimand.
"Aargh!" Get out!
"Roar." Understood.
The leading Brute responded in a deep, hoarse voice. Without hesitation, he turned and led his Jiralhanae brethren out of the Sangheili command bridge.
As the alloy doors of the bridge sealed shut, for an instant, every Brute in the corridor darkened their expressions. One of them cast a venomous glance back.
Just you wait, Sangheili scum...
...
The political intrigues and power struggles within the Covenant were of no concern to the Sacred Selene Empire's reconnaissance forces.
At this moment, they had their hands full with another task.
Whoooosh—!
Amidst the thick planetary sandstorm, the dim light of the local star was filtered and weakened by layers of dust, leaving only a faint glow over the gray, desolate landscape.
Beneath the massive karst-like rock formations, loose gravel tumbled against towering stone walls, creating a constant rattling sound. At the base of a rocky fissure, a few resilient green plants clung to life in the shadows.
At the end of a visible drag trail, partially buried under layers of dust and sand, lay the shattered wreckage of a purple-black spacecraft.
If anyone from the U.N.S.C. were present, they would immediately recognize it as a Covenant small, high-speed transport craft.
However, at this moment, the vessel had been split in two. The high-temperature-melted edges of the severed hull glowed with the remnants of extreme heat. Metal fragments, shrapnel, and shattered wreckage were strewn across the area. The dismembered and eviscerated bodies of Brutes lay scattered around—testaments to the fierce battle that had taken place not long ago.
This very transport ship was the one that had enraged the Covenant commander—the vessel that had vanished, carrying the lost relic.
"All clear. The area has been secured. We've set up a disruption field—these alien corpses and their ship's signals are completely sealed off."
Near the wreckage, in front of a man-made cave, an Astartes warrior in iron-gray power armor looked up as he spoke.
Above the churning sandstorm, three large black objects streaked across the sky, trailing white smoke. In the composite electronic vision of the power armor's helmet, they stood out starkly, like six diagonal white lines slashed across a dim, massive canvas.
"They're leaving."
"Those fly-headed alien craft are so damn ugly. Sooner or later, we'll slaughter them all."
Another gray-armored Astartes warrior stepped out from the cave, twisting his neck as he followed the flight path of the three departing aircraft. His tone was laced with disdain.
Sending heavily armored warriors to serve as recon scouts...
Despite appearing extremely cumbersome, in reality, the Orichalcum composite armor shell was seamlessly integrated with the electronic muscle bundles beneath it. These muscle bundles, connected via nano-interface technology derived from Tyrant cell conversion, enabled full synchronization with the wearer.
Not only did it eliminate any sense of burden, but it also greatly enhanced reaction speed and strength—it just looked bulky.
"I've hidden the assault ship in another canyon not far from here. After tonight, we'll move to the next planet."
"Understood."
"By the way, the prisoner is still alive, right?"
"Alive. Limbs severed, but the T-C7 healing agent is keeping him stabilized. He won't die anytime soon—plenty of time for reinforcements to arrive and extract his memories."
"Good."
With that, the two warriors walked side by side back into the cave.
Inside, two more Astartes warriors awaited them. Judging by their armor colors—one bone white, the other deep blue—they were a World Eater and a Night Lord.
With the return of the two Punishers, the small cave now housed warriors from three of the Empire's great Astartes Legions.
Including the one Punisher still keeping watch outside, their formation perfectly matched a standard five-man tactical squad—three Punishers, one World Eater, and one Night Lord.
They were but one tiny detachment among the countless Imperial reconnaissance forces scattered throughout the vast expanse of space.
As for why such a mixed team had been deployed? That was due to Grand General Budo's orders—a directive meant to enhance inter-legion cooperation among the Astartes, sharpening their battlefield synergy through real combat experience.
"Is the food ready yet?" one of the Punishers asked.
"Shut the hell up!"
The World Eater, who had been unofficially assigned as the cook, responded by cleaving the head off an unknown beast roasting over the fire. He stabbed it with a tactical knife and handed it over.
"Much appreciated."
The Punisher unlatched his helmet, sat down cross-legged, and wasted no time sinking his teeth into the charred flesh.
"ROAR!" Humans!
Stripped of its armor, its severed limbs cauterized and bound, the Brute prisoner suddenly erupted in frenzied howls as soon as it saw their faces beneath the heavy power armor.
Though these humans were massive, standing nearly two heads taller than any Jiralhanae, their distinctly human facial structure was unmistakable.
The Astartes warriors exchanged glances as the Brute chattered incessantly, its language completely unintelligible to them.
"Is it hungry?"
The most ornately armored Punisher, seemingly the squad's leader, cocked his head in curiosity.
"Or maybe... it wants this?"
He reached behind him, unfastened a magnetic clamp from his belt, and withdrew a triangular artifact with a hollow center. The object was gray-green, etched with irregular geometric patterns.
"ROAR! ROOOAR! ROOO—!"
You accursed humans! Take your filthy, Unggoy-like hands off the Holy Relic!
The moment the Brute saw the object, its hideous face twisted in rage. A heartbeat later, it began shrieking hysterically, its voice raw with fury.
Although most Jiralhanae cared little for the Covenant's so-called Pilgrimage, the relic had been entrusted to their species by the Prophets.
If they failed to retrieve it, those Sangheili bastards would never let them forget it.
After all, this mission had been won by the Jiralhanae from the Sangheili only with the backing of the Prophet of Truth, one of the three High Prophets.
Now, because of humans, it had ended in complete disaster.
How could it not drive the Brute into a frenzy?
"Roar! Roar! ROOOAR~!"
I will tear you apart! No—I will make you beg for death! I will break your bones one by one!
But, once again—language barrier.
"Looks like the helmet's built-in translation system really needs a database update."
"No idea what it's rambling about."
"This thing must be an important object they were escorting. Even during the battle, they were desperate to keep us from getting close to this triangular artifact. Seeing its reaction now, I'm even more sure of it."
"Once the Mindseer arrives, we'll know for certain. For now, let's just shut it up—it's getting annoying."
The Night Lord warrior stood up and kicked the weakened Brute straight into unconsciousness.
Having finished his task, he sat back down.
Meanwhile, by the campfire, the World Eater warrior pulled out seasoning packets from the side compartments of his power pack, fully absorbed in his grilling.
The sight of him nonchalantly using an ammo pack for spice storage made the others visibly twitch.
"Why are you all looking at me? Come and eat!"
"Between guns and a chainsaw axe, I definitely prefer the axe—so missing a few mags doesn't matter. I never run out of bolt rounds anyway."
Ignoring his comrades' expressions, the World Eater gestured at the grill, proudly introducing his dish—crafted from some unknown beast native to this world.
"Out in the field, getting a meal this good is a luxury. You all should be thanking me."
Despite their ruthless reputation, the World Eaters under Selene's command were known for being direct and bold among their Imperial brothers.
Their merciless brutality was reserved for enemies and traitors, but toward comrades and law-abiding Imperial citizens, they were straightforward warriors—if a bit battle-hungry and blunt.
They always prided themselves on being the most loyal Legion, refusing to wear medals or decorations.
Loyalty itself was their greatest badge of honor—there was no need for trinkets to prove it.
After all, Selene didn't have a golden throne, nor would she ever sit on one, let alone play power games that alienated her own warriors.
After a while, once they had enjoyed their meal,
somehow, the conversation grew more lively.
"Once the reinforcements arrive… do you think we'll finally be done with this recon mission?"
"Maybe. Either way, it won't be much longer."
"When the full-scale assault begins, I'm going all out! These small skirmishes just aren't cutting it—I'm getting itchy for a real fight!"
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