"Mantle..."
With an unshakable obsession, the consciousness of the Gravemind was swiftly extracted, severing its telepathic abilities granted by advanced neurophysics (neurotechnology), and erasing its control over the subordinate Flood forms.
Perception twisted as endless darkness engulfed it.
Meanwhile, Selene watched a dramatic display of so-called familial affection—a twisted spectacle of "fatherly love and filial piety."
Furthermore, according to available records, it was highly probable that this was the final Precursor—the Primordial—whose profound malice had been deeply imprinted into every microstructure (FSC), neuron, and glial cell of the Flood's physiology.
Particularly, an unrelenting malice towards the Forerunners.
In that instant, a hazy vision overtook Selene's consciousness, as if she had stepped into an unknown world. A cold radiance slowly ascended, casting light upon a ruined ancient city beneath the shadows.
Decayed, lifeless, and utterly desolate, the shattered world resembled a scene from hell, its dreadful atmosphere enveloping everything within.
The land lay fractured, and all living things had perished.
Bleached bones rose from the ground, the earth stained with endless tainted blood, as if the heavens and earth themselves mourned the fate of the "Creators."
Rustle—
A silent wind howled past, making Selene's silver-white hair flutter behind her. She stepped forward, her clear footsteps echoing in this ruined Precursor relic, once destroyed by the Forerunners.
Drip—
Stopping in her tracks, Selene faced a grotesque creature. Its form was an unnatural fusion of arthropod and mammalian appendages, seemingly forced together in defiance of nature.
It appeared as though it wanted to communicate something to Selene.
Standing approximately six meters tall, its width nearly matched its height. Its head was flat, broad, and low, while its elongated body was covered in countless writhing tendrils.
Its shoulders were layered in overlapping segments, with two widely spaced compound eyes. Numerous smaller eyes surrounded the massive, unpolished-looking compound orbs, gleaming in a disconcerting silver-gray hue.
"Millions of years ago, my kind granted you Forerunners breath, form, and life. And I am the last survivor."
"I am the one betrayed by you and mercilessly destroyed."
"I am the last Precursor."
"The day of our revenge is near."
This was its mission, its obsession—its vengeance.
Its voice was deep and grating, yet in Selene's ears, it lacked hatred or any emotional fluctuations. It was merely a recitation, as if it bore no anger over the extinction of its species.
"Even in death, you maintain the arrogance of a Creator. The Precursor holds no fury, no hatred for the Forerunners' betrayal of their so-called 'creation.' Instead, there is only condescending punishment, mockery."
The Precursors had placed this ancient Gravemind, composed of at least twelve unknown biological species, into a containment chamber and released it onto an abandoned planet at the edge of the galaxy.
That entity later became known as the Timeless One, also referred to as the Primordial, the grotesque being Selene now encountered within the Gravemind's consciousness network.
Though the Primordial's physical form had long been destroyed by the Forerunners, as a Precursor entity fused with the Flood, its mind would persist eternally so long as the Flood endured.
Through the Flood's hive-mind-like consciousness network, fragments of the Primordial's mind influenced all Flood organisms, including the Gravemind itself.
Beyond merely destroying Forerunner civilization and serving as a trial for potential successors, the Primordial harbored another purpose—to reveal the truth of the Precursor-Forerunner war to those who sought it.
Having obtained the information she desired, Selene's secondary consciousness swiftly returned to reality.
Opening her eyes, she immediately withdrew from the Gravemind's consciousness network.
Before her, the Gravemind lay motionless on the ground. Its small, membrane-covered eyes had lost their luster, devoid of any remaining vitality.
Selene had no intention of engaging further with the Gravemind. Her gaze swept over it with cold indifference.
Buzz!
Crackle!
The atmosphere stirred, flames ignited from nothingness, sizzling like fat sizzling in a pan. The Gravemind, impaled by a tesseract-like construct of imaginary-number energy, wriggled like a bloated maggot, its flesh tearing apart, spraying thick, putrid flesh in all directions, sizzling upon contact with the flames.
"You are no longer of use."
Extending her hand, Selene clenched her fist. With a resounding "boom," the mutated creature instantly exploded, shattering into burning chunks of rotten flesh that shot out like meteors.
As the fragments fell onto the land corroded by Honkai energy, they dissolved in an instant, disappearing completely without a trace.
Having completed her task, Selene shook her head and slowly lowered her hand.
As for whether the historical secrets extracted from the Gravemind's consciousness network were true, whether the Primordial's words were genuine, whether it was truly a Precursor or merely a rotting corpse formed from Flood-infected victims, a puppet pet of the Precursors, or a reanimated husk implanted with foreign consciousness…
Selene didn't care in the slightest.
Reading such information was nothing more than a passing amusement—she had no interest in their relationships. All that mattered was obtaining the coordinates of the Star Roads, the locations of abandoned Precursor relics, the position of the Forerunners' Great Ark, and the distribution of the remaining Flood.
Whoosh!
Brushing away the dust-like remnants of the dissolved Flood, Selene stepped forward, leaving the impact crater behind and heading toward the well-preserved buildings in the distance.
Under the purifying (corrosive) effect of Honkai energy, the alien-style structures, once overgrown with fungal blankets, vines, tendrils, and tumors, were rapidly stripped clean, revealing the grandeur of the Forerunners' colossal high-dimensional geometric architecture beneath.
Lifting her gaze, Selene beheld the radiant artificial sunlight illuminating the inner surface. Brilliant photons bathed her micro-visual field in dazzling light.
Clank!
Above, the towering inner dome began to part under Selene's Herrscher of Reason authority. A massive internal tunnel entrance opened, revealing the dark expanse of space. The plasma flames of an enormous fleet's engines were instantly reflected upon the Shield World's lakes below.
"Mantle? Not interested. This—this is what truly excites me."
Amidst the roar of descent, watching the ever-falling drop pods, assault craft, and transport ships, Selene stood atop a hill's peak, spreading her arms in satisfaction.
I came, I saw, I conquered.
She slightly turned her body. Beneath her feet, an eerie purple-red glow rapidly spread outward, infiltrating every inch of the Shield World with no blind spots.
Even beyond the Shield World, in the vastness of space, the faint golden "Star Roads" hidden among the stars were tainted by the leaking Honkai energy, as if a drop of ink had seeped into clear water. The cosmic highways spanning the Milky Way trembled, appearing to ripple across the universe's edge.
...
Outer Milky Way, Orion Arm Region – Unknown Star System
The galaxy remained as dazzling and magnificent as ever, encompassing both beauty and sin, as if every event only served to enhance its splendor.
At this moment, the arrival of a massive Covenant fleet shattered the silence of the void.
A colossal warship, comparable in size to a small celestial body, emerged from slipspace, surrounded by a swarm of Covenant vessels.
It traveled at sublight speed through the abyss of space, an endless cycle that would never cease until it reached its destined pilgrimage endpoint…
Its structure resembled a gigantic mushroom, wide at the top and narrow at the bottom. Numerous vertical docking platforms extended from its lower section, providing berths for other large warships. The mushroom-like crown housed colossal propulsion systems.
A transparent, glass-like shield enveloped the top, offering formidable protection against uncontrollable dangers.
Constructed from lightweight yet highly elastic metallic composites, its sleek, streamlined hull was covered in nanolaminate plating. With a diameter of 348 kilometers and a length exceeding 600 kilometers, this warship was beyond anything the United Earth Government could ever hope to create.
Beneath its smooth, mushroom-crowned exterior lay an internal expanse comparable to a small asteroid—a fully self-sustaining world.
Within, independent ecosystems thrived alongside forests, natural reserves, city districts, industrial zones, weapons factories, military divisions, mechanized units, escort vessels, and sprawling fortifications.
This was not just a warship—it was a mobile celestial city.
This was the Covenant's capital—High Charity.
At its pinnacle lay the Sanctum.
This was a grand architectural complex built around the veneration of "Holy Relics." Residing here, without a doubt, were the core members of the Covenant's High Council—those who wielded religious authority and administrative power—the San'Shyuum, self-proclaimed "Prophets."
Though the hunched, long-necked San'Shyuum were far fewer in number compared to the Sangheili (Elites), Jiralhanae (Brutes), and Unggoy (Grunts), who fought and died on the front lines, their living quarters were nothing short of extravagant.
The Unggoy and Kig-Yar (Jackals) could only look on with envious tears.
This magnificent city, co-constructed by the San'Shyuum and Sangheili, featured buildings dominated by purple, blue, and silver hues. Metallic structures bore inscriptions of the "gods'" glorious deeds and sacred texts. The ground was adorned with intricate, sanctified patterns, while towering statues of Sangheili martyr-heroes flanked the grand entrances. Engraved across the stairways were countless depictions of Forerunner "Holy Relics."
The more one lacks something, the more one seeks to flaunt it.
Gathering and replicating so many Forerunner relics for display was nothing more than an attempt to emphasize their own supposed divinity—to solidify their claim as the inheritors of the "gods."
Similarly, the abundance of Sangheili martyr statues hinted at a self-awareness among the San'Shyuum—they knew their own physical frailty and needed warriors. Thus, they highlighted the Sangheili as the "gods'" chosen protectors.
"Still a step too late—how infuriating!"
Deep within the grand hall, a San'Shyuum Prophet, garbed in ornate robes, sat hunched in his hovering throne. His exposed skin, deeply wrinkled and ancient, bore a myriad of crevices. He knocked the armrest of his chair in frustration.
"What do you propose? Now is not the time for infighting." His sunken eyes swept over his peers, his expression growing uglier with suspicion.
"Hmph... Shouldn't you be asking yourself that question? You overstepped."
A fellow Prophet, dressed just as lavishly and seated to his left, let out a sharp, piercing chuckle.
"Mercy upon you..."
The central Prophet, clearly affronted, clenched his withered hands around the armrests. Yet, rather than erupting, he turned to the Prophet seated on his right.
"Regret, share your intelligence. The human territory coordinates concern the Covenant..." He hesitated briefly. "They concern the survival of our kind."
"I only just acquired the coordinates from human insurrectionists. And you, Truth—how did you already know?"
At these words, the Prophet on the right let out a cold chuckle. Once his amusement faded, his expression darkened. "Were you spying on me?"
These three were none other than the Covenant's High Prophets—Mercy, Truth, and Regret.
Together with other San'Shyuum and Sangheili councilors, they formed the Covenant's highest governing body.
The Prophet of Truth, seated in the center and now subtly facing opposition from the other two, was the de facto leader of the High Prophets.
And in truth, he had brought this upon himself. Holding the greatest influence, Truth had long regarded himself as the Covenant's supreme ruler.
However, with humanity's counteroffensives striking deep into Covenant space, Truth's Jiralhanae-led fleets had suffered devastating defeats across multiple fronts.
This disruption had shaken his power balance.
Among the three High Prophets, Truth placed the greatest trust in the Jiralhanae, considering them superior to the Sangheili as warriors—mere brute-force tools. This naturally placed him at odds with Prophet of Regret, whose foundation rested on the Sangheili.
As for Prophet of Mercy, he was a centrist—hardly worth mentioning.
Don't think internal strife is exclusive to humanity. Though all three Prophets sought the Covenant's and the San'Shyuum's best interests, the question remained—who should hold the greatest share of power?
"You take the vanguard." Prophet of Regret tapped his armrest lightly, stating his condition with chilling indifference.
"..."
A flicker of emotions crossed the Prophet of Truth's face, but in the end, he clenched his teeth and nodded. "Fine."
"But you must act quickly. The humans may have already uncovered the truth of the relics and activated them. They have obtained the 'gods' inheritance. We cannot afford to waste any more time."
As he spoke, Truth clenched his fists and lowered his head.
"I only hope that our path to godhood does not crumble at the hands of the three of us."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
40 Advanced Chapters Available on Patreon:
Patreon.com/DaoOfHeaven