In the vast, pitch-black void of space, a mountainous steel behemoth emerged from the prismatic, swirling rift of its warp exit.
The warship's bow was clad in sharp, reinforced ramming armor, its broadside bristling with cavernous gun barrels. The deck was lined with orbital fortress cannons, electromagnetic railguns, macro cannons, lance turrets, and torpedo launch tubes, leaving no doubt—this was a military vessel.
Its command bridge, however, was bizarrely constructed—towering like a grand palace, adorned with gold and silver embellishments. An impractical display of opulence, yet no mere armed merchant ship could boast such formidable weaponry.
On the warship's bridge, the golden double-headed eagle—the emblem of the Empire—spread its wings and talons in defiant grandeur. Even the darkness of the void could not diminish its brilliance.
The entire warship resembled a drawn sword—its sharp prow extending into angular, hardened lines, broadening toward the central bridge, where the majestic double-headed eagle emblem formed the ornamented crossguard.
On the heavily armored aft sections, two colossal sigils were engraved—crossed iron fists, resembling hydraulic press mechanisms—a mark of allegiance to the Astartes Second Legion, the Punishers.
Anyone familiar with the Sacred Selene Empire's naval battle formations would recognize it at a glance—this was a Moon-class cruiser, a fast, lightweight warship specializing in high-speed maneuvers.
Ship Classification: Lightweight Specialized Cruiser.
Category: High-Maneuverability Moon-class Cruiser.
Length: Approximately 5 kilometers.
Ventral Fin Span: 0.8 kilometers.
Mass: Approximately 28 million tons.
Crew Complement: Approximately 95,000 personnel.
Maximum Sustained Acceleration: 3.2G.
Unlike conventional naval warships, this specialized cruiser was not designed for direct firepower engagements, heavy armor, or troop deployments.
Despite its cruiser classification, it was far smaller than the mainline warships of the Imperial Navy, optimized instead for mobility and tactical versatility.
Manufactured by Forge Worlds, these vessels were purpose-built for reconnaissance forces, assassination units, and other special operations teams requiring rapid deployment and relocation.
At 5 kilometers in length, this warship was typically deployed as a forward command center and temporary resupply base for scout divisions and assassination squads within a designated warzone.
Beep—Beep—
Dim light illuminated the expansive bridge hall, where the elite crew of the Imperial Navy maintained absolute silence, each diligently attending to their stations.
They worked seamlessly across an array of holographic consoles, monitoring and manipulating the ship's colossal systems through projection screens, surveillance arrays, measurement instruments, and control interfaces.
Standing on the elevated command platform, overlooking the bridge from several steps above, was a towering, gray-armored giant.
With his hands clasped behind his back, he gazed through the arched observation dome, its titanic armor-glass panels offering an unobstructed view of the distant, sand-colored planet below.
"Report—confirmed signs of human civilization in Universe 117."
A naval officer clad in a dark blue uniform, armed with a lightweight chainsword and a laser pistol, scrutinized the holographic projection of Madrigal.
His chin pressed against the stiff leather strap of his peaked officer's cap, but a hint of satisfaction flickered across his expression as he raised his voice.
"Humans? Not xenos filth? Are you certain?"
The gray-armored giant turned, his deep, authoritative voice resonating through the bridge.
His face was chiseled and battle-hardened, a faint scar running along his nose bridge. His head was shaved completely, save for a well-groomed, thick beard running along his jawline.
"Yes, sir. Our scans have detected a large number of human settlements on the planet's surface."
The naval officer continued his report, his tone both curious and puzzled:
"However, there is something unusual—each settlement is relatively small, occupying no more than one square kilometer."
"There are no large-scale metropolitan cities."
"Their infrastructure level does not match that of an interstellar civilization."
"It appears that each settlement is centered around drilling platforms, as if their entire existence depends on them."
"Based on our compiled data and preliminary estimates, this planet has not undergone large-scale human terraforming or resource development."
"Its population is sparse. It is most likely a simple resource supply world..."
"Commander, we have a situation."
A console operator suddenly reported loudly:
"Detected multiple energy weapon discharges in an oasis forest located in the planet's northern hemisphere. Calculating coordinates..."
As he spoke, the operator magnified the surveillance feed on the central projection screen.
"Latitude 34° North, Longitude 125° East."
As the image zoomed in further, a makeshift circular drilling station came into view. Brilliant blue electrical sparks and explosions illuminated the feed, catching the attention of everyone within the bridge hall.
"Plasma weaponry."
The gray-armored giant remarked.
The operator promptly continued his report:
"Commander, it's xenos filth—they are attacking a human settlement... Wait, new development! A military force from Universe 117's human civilization has entered the scene… Commander, confirmed presence of what appears to be an official human military faction."
"Oh? Seems like there's some value here after all... Worth a battle."
The gray-armored giant grinned, then issued his orders:
"The boys have been stuck on this ship too long—they're getting rusty. Time to loosen up."
"Pass the word: we need prisoners. Capture a few of those xenos filth alive—dead ones won't be of much use to the [Soul Enlightener]. As for the humans, whether official or civilian, let them sort themselves out."
"Yes, sir!"
...
Thud... Thud... Thud...
Heavy footsteps echoed through the corridor.
Dozens of Astartes warriors, clad in hulking power armor, marched down the long metallic passageway of the warship.
They arrived at the teleportation deck, preparing for deployment with methodical urgency, their expressions hidden beneath their helmets, yet their energy was palpable—a mix of excitement and bloodlust.
Each warrior wore different armor colors, heraldry, and ornamentation, yet they all shared the same sacred mark—the Imperial Aquila, intricately engraved upon their chest plates.
To bear this insignia was an honor reserved only for the mighty Astartes.
Ordinarily, a standard Imperial Navy vessel would be equipped with a variety of deployment methods, including warp teleportation chambers, drop pod bays, and hangar decks for shuttle-based deployment.
But as a flagship for an elite recon force, this warship—though small in size—was far more lavishly outfitted.
Instead of practical, cost-effective drop pod launch bays, they had opted for larger, high-powered teleportation devices—an extravagant upgrade.
This fast, highly maneuverable Moon-class cruiser had been designed to fully support its Astartes complement—allowing entire squads to be deployed instantly, and even retrieved at will.
A scaled-down hangar deck remained, designated for vehicle storage, reserved for emergencies.
"Xenos filth, your grandfathers have arrived."
"Hahaha! My chainsaw axe has been starving for a good slaughter."
"Let's carve them up."
One Astartes warrior ran a hand across the serrated teeth of his chainaxe, another loaded explosive rounds into his heavy bolt rifle, while a third fitted a decaying-energy power cell into his plasma pistol.
The hulking giants, belonging to the World Eaters of the Twelfth Legion, spoke with barely restrained bloodlust.
Even though the warship had training arenas and gladiatorial pits, they found such distractions monotonous—only real battle could satisfy them.
"Salute!"
The largest warrior among them finished his preparations, then dropped to one knee, his voice solemn and brief.
His power armor was a deep, midnight blue, its backpack embellished with crimson bat-winged heraldry.
On his waist armor, skulls and lightning emblems were etched in intricate detail.
His chest bore the double-headed eagle of Selene, and in his colossal hands, a pair of razor-sharp lightning claws crackled with blue arcs of electricity.
Inside the Teleportation Combat Chamber, under the leadership of a Night Lords officer, all Astartes warriors knelt in unison before the translucent crystalline wall in front of them.
The crystalline wall had an iron-gray base, displaying the image of a white-haired woman clad in pure white robes embroidered with gold patterns. She held both a scepter and an axe, her head slightly tilted downward, eyes closed in solemnity.
Behind her, a massive golden halo radiated outward, with countless golden lines extending from its center, forming the image of a sun eternally shining upon the mortal world.
"I, of the 37th Grand Company, Night Lords, Eighth Legion—"
"I, of the 7th Grand Company, Punishers, Second Legion—"
"I, of the 23rd Grand Company, World Eaters, Twelfth Legion—"
…
"By the Empress' Radiance, let all darkness be purged!"
"Our blades shall cut down the Empress's foes! Loyalty and honor stand together! For Selene—!!"
As their roaring battle cry echoed through the chamber, a wave of violet-red teleportation light surged—
Boooom!
From afar, as the Covenant assault raged on, the ringed fortifications surrounding the drilling tower were crumbling under relentless bombardment.
The gunfire from human ballistic weapons was growing weaker and weaker, an impotent resistance against an enemy far beyond their capabilities.
Flesh and steel alike were reduced to shrapnel, scattering in every direction.
Boom-Crash!
A massive plasma explosion ripped a gaping hole through the fortress wall.
Through the gap, charred human remains and molten metal spilled out, forming an orange-red "stream" of carnage.
For ordinary humans, a direct hit from a Sangheili plasma weapon meant either instant dismemberment or complete incineration.
BANG!
"Dad!"
Kwan Hascreamed in terror as she saw her father's pickup truck—mounted with an M134 rotary machine gun—explode into flames, launching into the air.
She had been fleeing toward the shelter, but upon witnessing the blast, she froze in shock.
Thump!
In her moment of distracted horror, her footing slipped, and she crashed forward onto the ground.
She barely registered the pain, quickly trying to push herself up—
But something warm and sticky clung to her hands.
"Professor...!"
Her pupils shrank in horror.
Her hands were drenched in blood.
The old white man, who had been alive and laughing mere minutes ago, was now nothing but a pile of torn flesh and scattered entrails.
His severed head lay beside her, his lifeless eyes staring blankly at her, his expression frozen in the terror of his final moment.
"A-AHH! AHHHH!!"
A normal person, upon witnessing such horror, would inevitably suffer shock and panic.
Kwan Ha's legs kicked against the dirt, scrambling backward in frantic terror, her shrieks echoing through the chaos—
Which immediately drew the attention of the "Hunters."
"Raahh!!" Move.
A gust of wind blew past her—
A splash of hot liquid splattered across her face.
She opened her eyes—
A Sangheili warrior, clad in blue armor, now had a gaping hole in his chest.
His four-jawed mandibles quivered, coughing up thick gouts of blood, before his body slumped lifelessly to the ground beside her.
"Stay hidden."
The deep, commanding voice came from a towering figure in dark green armor.
One hand gripped a confiscated Covenant plasma pistol, the other held an MA5 assault rifle.
Despite the sheer weight of his armor, the Spartan moved effortlessly, his voice steady and unwavering.
"Raahh!! Aooo~!!" It's the Demon! ATTACK!!
Before Kwan Ha could even react, a tremendous force slammed her head down onto the ground.
The Spartan had pinned her down, pressing her hard against the dirt.
SZZT-SZZT-SZZT!!
Four or five plasma bolts seared through the air, just inches above her skull.
She felt the intense heat burning the ground behind her.
"Raahh!! AOOO-AOOO!!" Ignore the civilians! KILL HIM FIRST!
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The Spartan tossed the civilian down a nearby slope, then tanked several plasma shots with his energy shields.
As the built-in alarms of his Mjolnir-powered armor blared, he rolled swiftly into cover, evading incoming fire while returning shots in kind.
"Silver Team, report status."
"Clearing out the northern sector. Heavy resistance. Requesting reinforcements."
"Sangheili warriors in the western sector. Enemy count at thirty-four… thirty-five… thirty-nine… forty-five. We need backup."
"I need support! Southern sector! Confirmed sighting of a red-armored Sangheili commander—!"
"All units, converge on the southern sector. Regroup for coordinated engagement."
Compiling three separate field reports, Master Chief issued the order without hesitation.
Zap! Ratatat!
A plasma shot stripped an Elite's energy shield, followed immediately by a three-round burst of solid rounds, putting the alien down.
Seizing the opening, the Spartan sprinted toward the southern sector.
Why are so many Elites on Madrigal?
No Grunts. No Jackals.
Nothing but Sangheili warriors—and so many of them.
The Covenant is planning something…
...
Southern Sector
"Raahh!! Aooo~!!"
The Demon is here! Last time, the Jiralhanae lost the relic because of these humans! Luckily, our forces have reinforced the region!
"Aooo~!"
Eliminate them quickly and withdraw! This is human territory; their reinforcements may already be en route! Protect the relic above all else!
The red-armored Sangheili commander swung his hand outward, his booming voice issuing the order.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Over ten Elites formed a battle circle, their battle cries ringing through the air.
Plasma rifles unloaded in synchronized volleys, their glowing barrels trained on the Spartan behind cover.
Spartan-125—a designated sniper—was completely pinned down.
Her cover was rapidly being shredded under overwhelming plasma fire.
"I need support—!"
With no line of sight to return fire, Spartan-125 was trapped, Her sniper rifle useless at close range.
"Hold on, 125! I'm almost there—bzzt—!"
Master Chief's voice crackled over the comms, but the transmission abruptly cut out—
An explosion interrupted the signal.
Clearly, enemy numbers were far greater than anticipated.
Master Chief was now cut off, fighting his own battle en route.
"Our intel was wrong…."
Their original mission had been simple—escort Jin Ha to a "safe" location and ensure Madrigal's compliance with U.N.S.C. supply operations.
Even if insurrectionists or small Covenant forces interfered, Master Chief's team was more than capable of handling them.
But no one had expected this.
A "minor" drilling station was now swarming with over a hundred Sangheili warriors.
Not just brown-armored veterans—even a red-armored commander was present.
Why were so many Covenant Elites gathered here?
According to U.N.S.C. battle records, whenever Elites deployed in such numbers, they were usually accompanied by waves of Grunts and Jackals—the hallmarks of a large-scale Covenant offensive.
This was not normal.
Something bigger was happening.
"Transmit all data to the Doctor… Hahh…"
"Even if I die, I'm taking a few of these bastards with me."
Spartan-125 took a deep breath, gripping her heavy sniper rifle.
Click-clack. She chambered a round.
At that moment—
A thunderous boom echoed across the sky.
A purple-red electrical arc flashed violently in the air.
ZZZZZZZMMMMM—!
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