Outer Milky Way, Orion Arm Region – Covenant-Controlled Space
Boom!
A colossal energy lance tore through the void.
The Covenant fleet flagship, docked for resupply at a space station, was struck violently. Its energy shields flared as plasma explosions rippled across its surface. Inside the bridge, operators frantically adjusted power levels and maneuvering thrusters in a desperate bid to evade further strikes.
"Energy shields down to 37%!"
"Evasive action! Emergency evasive action!"
"We are surrounded by enemy ships! It's the humans!"
"All ships, regroup and reform defensive lines!"
Completely unprepared, the Covenant fleet was thrown into chaos by the ambush.
Crackle!
Blinding plasma discharges scorched the hulls. The bridge shuddered under the relentless bombardment. Overload alarms screamed as shield integrity warnings flashed wildly, painting the control room with an array of flickering, ominous lights.
But to the crew, these lights were harbingers of death.
"How did we receive no warning? Are the front-line forces completely incompetent?! Or have they already been annihilated?!"
"Why hasn't High Charity relayed any intelligence?!"
This was deep within Covenant territory. Under orders from the High Council, the fleet had been stationed here for resupply and preparation for an assault on the human fortress world—Reach.
But none of them could fathom how these humans had emerged undetected, bypassing multiple fortifications and defensive lines to strike at the heart of Covenant space.
"Silence!"
A towering Sangheili fleet commander slammed his fist onto the auxiliary command console. The panicked chatter from the Unggoy (Grunts) and Kig-Yar (Jackals) only deepened his irritation. He turned sharply, grabbing a red-armored Sangheili warrior by the shoulder.
"If we are to die, we die with honor! Stop this disgraceful panic!"
His gaze then shifted to the intelligence officer. "I don't care what it takes—get a message out! High Charity must know! The enemy is nothing like before!"
"At once!"
With order partially restored, the Sangheili commander, clad in elaborate silver-gray armor, returned to his command seat. He transmitted his final orders to the Covenant forces still stationed on the planet below.
"This is Supreme Commander Edmo 'Hurst, commanding the Covenant's 17th Sangheili Expeditionary Fleet—'Divine Reverence.' I am issuing our final directive: Fight to the last!"
Before the transmission could fully end, another violent tremor rocked the bridge. The observation windows were engulfed in a sea of plasma fire, and communication was abruptly cut off.
"Status report!"
"Energy shields at 78%—critical overload imminent!"
Bang!
"****!" The commander snarled in Sangheili expletives, smashing a holographic display with his fist. He turned, gripping his weapon. "Deploy elite strike teams—do we have any chance of breaking through?"
A subordinate hesitated before responding. "Sir… I regret to inform you that space-time in this region has been locked down. Our slipspace drives cannot engage. All long-range communications are jammed... we are trapped."
A heavy silence filled the bridge.
Then, outside the observation windows, the fiery plasma bursts wavered for a brief moment—before a blinding radiance, unlike anything seen before, erupted across the void.
The bridge deck trembled more violently than ever before. No ordinary starship could produce such an intense quake. The entire command center felt as though it was rolling, shaking in all directions, tossing the Covenant warriors inside off their feet.
The diminutive Unggoy screamed in terror.
Even the proud Sangheili warriors were forced to take a knee to stabilize themselves as the ship lurched unpredictably.
Gripping the handrails tightly, the Sangheili fleet commander made a decisive call. "Divert all available power to the energy shields! Ram through! Before they overload, fire all antimatter warheads!"
But his orders came too late. Even if the navigation officers had been quick enough to react, the enemy gave them no such chance—an even larger wave of firepower was inbound!
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Thick lances of energy sliced through the void. Several Covenant vessels—small and medium-sized support ships—were caught in the crossfire, their shields overwhelmed in an instant.
Like a barrage of celestial spears, the energy beams tore through them, warping their hulls before triggering catastrophic detonations.
The resulting explosions bathed the dark void in a searing red glow, like miniature suns suddenly unleashed in space, flooding the surrounding area with intense light and heat.
Through the inferno, the invading fleet pressed forward unrelentingly, tearing through expanding rings of debris and counterfire, forcing their way into the Covenant stronghold's lower orbit.
As the flames subsided, their massive forms became visible.
They were titanic, resembling primordial behemoths. Their elongated, spearhead-shaped hulls carried imposing palace-like command bridges, fortress-like plating, and massive bastions of weaponry.
Rows upon rows of energy lances, plasma railguns, and turreted cannons dotted their enormous surfaces, each embedded within heavy plating like windows set into the stone walls of an ancient citadel.
The hulls gleamed with silver-gray armor, adorned with golden, emerald, and obsidian inlays. Twin-headed eagle emblems, sculpted with intricate craftsmanship, exuded both strength and an almost divine radiance.
If space combat still retained any semblance of elegance, then the land war below was nothing but brutality, carnage, and pure devastation.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Across the war-torn battlefield, destruction blossomed like a scorching flower. Lasers, mass-driver rounds, and artillery strikes filled the air, while assault craft and drop pods screamed through the sky, hurtling toward the chaotic ground below.
Rumble!
Each detonation sent shockwaves ripping through the terrain. Dirt and shattered alien corpses were flung high, the air thick with the acrid scent of smoke and the sickly stench of burnt flesh.
Blood. Ash.
Even the skies burned. The very ocean boiled. This world had become a living hell.
Above, the CAS-class assault carriers of the 17th Covenant Fleet, 'Divine Reverence,' were falling one by one. Shot down by overwhelming firepower, they plummeted like meteors, breaking apart in the atmosphere and scattering debris like cosmic shrapnel.
In the corpse-littered fields below, warriors fought with a frenzy, wielding an arsenal of ranged and melee weaponry—energy rifles, chain-blades, power swords, gravity hammers.
The sky burned. The land burned. Even the seas were set ablaze. In this moment, the entire world was a vision of hell.
The Covenant's fortifications, built to defend their stronghold on this planet, lay in ruin. The Imperial forces had concentrated their bombardment on key locations, reducing command bunkers and defensive bastions to rubble, their walls now draped with the lifeless bodies of Covenant soldiers.
This was the first battlefield to erupt in combat, the initial target of bombardment, and the focal point of the Astartes' assault. The siege was over now, leaving the landscape scarred by fire. Splintered trees still smoldered from the residual blasts.
"Clear the battlefield! Keep your eyes sharp!"
A junior officer of the Imperial Auxiliary Forces, clad in a wide-brimmed hat, swung his chainsword as he barked out commands.
"Yes, sir!" ×N
Soon, a sharp howl pierced the air—
"Awoo!"
"Tsk tsk, an alien... and a cowardly one at that."
Squelch!
A frail, hunched-over alien, resembling a jackal and standing roughly 1.7 meters tall, was discovered feigning death. In an instant, the scavenging troops hacked it apart.
"Stop! Stop!"
Watching them brutally pulverize the creature's head, the officer smirked and scolded, "Who found it? The head belongs to them! Anyone who tries to steal it gets shot!"
"Now, keep clearing the battlefield!"
Meanwhile, at a concealed underground entrance behind the fortress ruins…
A squad of Imperial Auxiliary soldiers stumbled upon a retreating group of Covenant warriors.
"For the Empire! Charge!"
"Roar!"
Zzzzt! Zzzzt! Boom!
A Brute grenade sent dirt and debris flying. Scattered around the crater lay a dozen lifeless Imperial troops. Their bullet-ridden armor bore the marks of brutal melee combat—either shattered by explosive shockwaves or caved in by savage blows. Their contorted faces and clenched fists attested to their valiant final moments.
The enemy had not emerged unscathed either. Jackal and Grunt corpses lay strewn about, their broken bodies a testament to the battle's ferocity. Nearby, two Brute corpses—riddled with holes from concentrated laser fire—lay face-down, their once-fearsome features now unrecognizable.
Thud!
"Huff..."
Leaning against a crumbling wall, a wounded Brute warrior gripped a massive gravity hammer. A chainsword had torn open a gaping wound in his abdomen, spilling entrails onto the floor. His breathing was ragged.
His thick, grayish-white fur was matted with both human and alien blood, and his grotesque face bore fresh shrapnel scars—fitting the moniker of "Brute."
"These humans are much fiercer than before."
Another Brute, still standing, wore cerulean armor and wielded a heavy shotgun in one hand and a bloodied gravity hammer in the other. He panted heavily.
"The situation is dire. Those pathetic cowards have lost."
Though the Brutes despised the Sangheili, the latter still held higher authority within the Covenant military. Despite the Prophet of Truth's unwavering support, the Brutes remained under Sangheili command in many strategic operations.
Of course, insults, hostility, and behind-the-scenes scheming between the two species were common knowledge.
This time, because the Sangheili commanders refused to remain in close quarters with the Brutes, they stationed their own troops aboard the space station while the Brutes remained on the planet's surface.
This separation inadvertently spared the Brutes from the Imperial Navy's orbital bombardment.
Casting a long look at the smoldering wreckage of Covenant warships tumbling from the sky, the Brute wasted no time—he turned and sprinted toward the underground facility's entrance.
Hiss!
The alloy pneumatic door hissed open. The Unggoy guards at the entrance shrieked in terror at the sight of the blood-soaked Brute Captain Ultra.
"Gurulu! Gurulu!"
"Out of my way!" The towering Brute snarled, kicking the diminutive creatures aside as he slammed the control panel, sealing the door behind him.
Clang!
"Aha! Look what we have here! Filthy xeno trash! I'll turn your skull into a bowl!"
With no hesitation, the high-ranking Brute bolted deeper into the underground complex.
As a veteran captain, he was not like the mindless Brutes who charged without thought. He was brutal, yes, but not foolish.
But then—
BANG!
A thunderous impact rocked the sealed door, leaving a massive dent in the metal.
Before the panicked Unggoy could even react, the door began glowing red-hot.
Zzzzzzt!
A searing orange beam pierced through, vaporizing the Unggoy in its path. The intense heat sliced clean through the Brute Captain's legs, severing them in an instant.
Clang!
The three-meter-tall alloy door exploded into fragments as two World Eaters stormed through the breach.
"Running? You dare kill my people and think you can run?!"
Slaughtering xenos was one thing—but xenos daring to kill his own? Unforgivable. Even auxiliary troops were still his people.
This World Eater did not care for fairness. Double standards? Absolutely. And what of it?
On the battlefield, this was reality. Those who wept over killing enemies while their own comrades fell were useless.
Thud! Thud!
Clad in pristine white armor with blue trim, the warrior strode forward, his cape billowing behind him. He holstered his melta pistol, letting the severed Brute head drop from his other hand.
With a smooth motion, he unhooked his chain-axe and revved the roaring blade.
Vrrrrr!
The Unggoy shrieked in terror, raising their hands in surrender before scattering in all directions.
"ROAR!"
From the depths of the tunnel, a squad of Brutes stormed forward, having received an urgent distress signal. They opened fire without hesitation.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The heavy-caliber rounds pounded against the World Eaters' powered armor. Energy shields flared as massive projectiles clattered harmlessly to the ground.
"That one is mine. Kill the rest."
"For Selene!"
The World Eaters surged forward like living tanks, obliterating everything in their path.
Purple-black blood splattered. Dismembered limbs and shattered bodies littered the ground as the air filled with agonized screams.
Then came the howling of chain-axes and the deafening blast of bolt rounds—flesh rended, bones shattered, and soon, the battle fell silent.
Rip!
The World Eater officer stood before the crippled Brute Captain, whose severed legs still smoldered from the melta beam. He reached out and gripped the Brute's face, digging his fingers into its eye sockets, rupturing them with a sickening squelch.
"I told you—I'd turn your skull into a bowl."
"ROOOAR!"
The agonized howl that followed was enough to make even the most hardened warriors pause—its sheer intensity would have evoked pity in anyone else.
Bang!
The Brute's skull burst like an overripe melon.
Blood and brain matter splattered violently as the World Eater officer ripped off the top of the alien's head, crimson fluid continuing to spurt from the open cavity.
"Report this to the front-line tally officers—attribute that half-dead simian xeno's kill to the fallen auxilia troops."
As for why he didn't credit this high-ranking Brute's head to the slain auxilia soldiers? The rules were clear—trophies and honors could not be transferred. Violators faced severe punishment.
Merit for deeds performed, punishment for failures—clear and absolute.
The dying Brute outside had already been mortally wounded by the auxilia before being finished off. Claiming that kill for them was within acceptable margins.
But this high-ranking Brute Captain? No, that was indisputably his kill. The real-time combat tracking system would handle the official record.
"Commander! The outer perimeter has been cleared of xeno scum!"
An Imperial auxiliary officer approached at a brisk pace, saluting crisply.
"Good. Now, it's time to play whack-a-mole."
Clipping the Brute's skull fragment to his waist using a mag-lock, the World Eater officer hefted his chain-axe and strode deeper into the tunnels below.
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