In the smoke-cleared estate, the Shark Raiders and Flame Salamander warriors were conducting a thorough sweep.
The gray-armored Shark soldiers used handheld psionic detectors provided by the Intelligence Division to meticulously scan every inch of scorched ground.
Their power armor was coated with the "Sacred Water" from the Heretic Tribunal. Whenever the detectors triggered an alert, they immediately incinerated the area with flamethrowers.
One warrior spotted residual black mucus within a ground fissure and promptly summoned a comrade wielding an incinerator—
FOOOM—!!
A blast of blue-white plasma fire scorched the zone into glass, ensuring any trace of Chaos was utterly purged.
Nearby, the Flame Salamanders had formed tactical formations, analyzing air samples with precision instruments.
Their tech-sergeants operated hovering drones, whose scanning beams formed an intricate net, allowing not even the tiniest warp "spore" to escape.
"Eastern sector cleared," came a steady voice over the comms. "No contamination detected."
The Greek demigods formed a divine barrier.
The weapons in their hands emitted a soft golden glow; any warp energy attempting to flee was disintegrated with a shriek the moment it touched the light.
One demigod wielding a twin-bladed battle axe suddenly swung his weapon. A burst of golden radiance from the blade eradicated the final traces of corruption hiding in the shadows.
Athena stood motionless at the center of the battlefield, beside her the obsidian box imprisoning the noble elder.
Her gaze was so cold it seemed capable of extinguishing stars.
The box occasionally bulged with signs of struggle, muffled thuds sounding from within—but none could shake the goddess.
In her mind appeared the innocent smile of Samuel Young—the child who would throw himself into her arms after training, the Primarch who showed astounding talent the first time he wielded a sword.
"To think you dared…"
Her whisper made the air itself tremble.
In order to coordinate with the Intelligence Division, she had deliberately feigned overprotectiveness toward Samuel and revealed a fabricated weakness—but she hadn't expected Chaos to truly extend its claws toward her child.
Such blasphemy could only be repaid through eternal torment.
Nova and Stone stood not far away, silently observing.
Streams of data flashed rapidly across the faceplate of Nova's nano-combat suit—residual psionic readings, warp contamination indices, probabilities of Chaos corruption—each metric was enough to make the blood run cold.
"Just the darkness within the heart…" Nova's voice was slightly hoarse, "...can become a gateway for Chaos?"
As a former Ghost agent, she knew all too well how much darkness lurked within herself.
Those assassination missions, the betrayals made out of necessity, the nightmares that startled her awake at night...
If even these emotions could be exploited by demons...
"Death isn't even an escape," Stone added softly, the eyes behind his tactical visor bloodshot.
He remembered every "traitor" he had ever executed—their dying curses now echoing in his ears.
Step. Step.
A gentle footfall approached.
Chirrut Îmwe's black robes fluttered in the breeze, his blind face exuding a serene omniscience.
The Jedi Master had not yet activated his lightsaber, yet the air around him already rippled faintly. "You fear the Warp."
Nova looked up abruptly, surprised by his insight.
But before she could respond, Chirrut continued, "That fear is understandable. Before meeting the Emperor, many humans across the galaxy regarded the warp's projections into realspace as untouchable taboos."
He slowly raised his hand, palm up.
A wisp of pure golden psionic energy danced like flame—identical in essence to the radiance emanating from Athena.
"But the Emperor changed everything," Chirrut said firmly. "Pure psionics are not just weapons—they are shelter. The Emperor prevents our souls from being exposed to Chaos."
He turned his "gaze" toward the distant civilian sector. "The humans of Korhal—indeed, of the entire Universe-18 (StarCraft)—are still fragile. The Emperor's protection has not yet fully enveloped this realm. That is why we must maintain this barrier."
As if to confirm his words, a beam of golden light suddenly lit the sky.
It was Athena's flagship, the Nerva, deploying a psionic shield from orbit—a soft golden dome covering all of Korhal.
Wherever the light passed, the final trace of chill in the air vanished without a trace.
"But this is only temporary."
Chirrut turned toward Nova and Stone, his tone now solemn. "True protection requires each human to build the defenses of their own mind."
Athena's figure suddenly appeared beside them. The obsidian box had already been taken away by a war handmaiden.
The goddess's gaze swept over the two former Ghosts, her expression uncharacteristically gentle. "Your concern is valid. From this day forth, you will receive new training—not just in combat skills, but in how to guard your minds."
She raised her hand, and two threads of golden light entered Nova's and Stone's foreheads.
In that instant, they both witnessed a grand golden network—
It was the Emperor's psionic sanctuary: countless threads connecting every corner of the Human Empire. Above Korhal, the web was only just beginning to take shape.
"Remember this feeling," Athena's voice rang like a distant bell. "When the darkness comes, you will be the Emperor's anchors."
Sometime later.
In the main council chamber of the Augstergrad palace complex, solemnity had replaced the decadence of the past.
Walls once gilded with gemstone inlays now displayed bare alloy surfaces. The decorations that flaunted wealth and power had long since been dismantled and melted down to rebuild the city.
Beneath the lofty dome, the once-suspended crystal chandeliers had been replaced with simple lighting arrays, casting a soft white glow.
The Goddess of War sat at the head seat, her golden armor glowing subtly beneath the lights.
On both sides of the long table, representatives from all imperial departments were seated.
Four Astartes captains stood like statues:
Sigismund's black armor was covered in Chinese scripture, his visors glowing dim red;
Ghazan's Terminator armor still bore battle scars, the flame emblem on his shoulder pad especially vivid;
Malahkin Forros's Crying Sons armor showed fresh engraving marks beside the tear-shaped emblem;
Tyberos's Shark Raider armor was adorned with serrated trophies, exuding a faint metallic scent of blood.
Lyon from the Intelligence Division whispered to Mike, both examining a tactical hologram marked with dozens of suspicious sites. Chris was tuning a strange device—some prototype for detecting warp fluctuations.
The Jedi stood at the threshold between light and shadow.
Chirrut Îmwe's robe remained perfectly still.
Baze Malbus adjusted the cooling valves on his armor, the stormtrooper commanders behind him standing like a forest of steel.
In the shadows, Jim Raynor's face was obscured, but his tense jawline betrayed his emotions.
Sarah Kerrigan's psionic aura was more stable than before; golden sparks occasionally flickered on her fingertips, showing that she had returned from the main universe, been "blessed" by the Human Emperor, and had begun to grasp this new power.
Tychus sat casually with his feet on another chair, rhythmically tapping his fingers on his knee.
Nova and Stone stood in the intelligence section, the full recording of the nobles' secret meeting floating before them.
The blue glow of data reflected off Nova's visor, while Stone repeatedly studied the last frame transmitted by the young noble.
In one corner, several rescued Dark Templar stood like ghosts.
Though their green psionic blades were not ignited, void energy still flowed around their forms.
Suddenly, the air rippled like water, and a familiar figure emerged from the shadows—
"Zeratul."
Jim stood up almost immediately.
The Dark Templar elder looked even more weathered than before. New scars marred his carapace-like skin, but the faintly glowing eyes remained as sharp as ever.
"Old friend," Zeratul's voice rasped like sandpaper. "It seems we'll be fighting side by side once again."
Athena gently tapped the table. The council chamber fell silent at once.
"Everyone," her voice held natural authority. "Chaos has extended its tendrils into this sector. Today's council will determine the fate of the entire Koprulu Sector—no, all of Universe-18."
Then, her gaze, almost tangible, settled on Zeratul. Her golden armor shimmered faintly in the light.
Her tone was calm but commanding: "Dark Templar, state your purpose."
Zeratul crossed his arms, void energy rippling around him like echoes from an ancient cave.
"Honored Lady Athena, I have spent my life following the paths of prophecy—guiding Jim Raynor, guiding Hierarch Artanis, all to resist the threat of Amon."
The lighting in the chamber seemed to dim slightly at the mention of that name.
Several Dark Templar instinctively tensed, the energy around them rippling like disturbed water.
"But recently..."
Zeratul continued, a flicker of confusion in his green eyes, "I sensed Amon's presence vanish completely. Not just him—the entire Void seems to have been... 'erased' by some force."
He lowered his arms. "Based on recent intelligence, I believe the Human Empire has ended this nightmare that plagued the Protoss for generations."
The chamber fell into a brief silence.
Zeratul's form flickered slightly, as if he might vanish at any moment. "I thought with Amon's fall, the Protoss would finally know peace.
But the reality is quite the opposite—"
His voice turned grim. "The Tal'darim have grown more frenzied. They've attacked numerous Protoss worlds and massacred countless kin. Worse still, Hierarch Artanis's decisions have become... erratic."
"Heh."
A snort came from the corner.
One Dark Templar pulled down his hood, revealing a face scarred by countless battles. "The Tal'darim were always mad dogs! And Artanis? That Kala hypocrite's finally showing his true colors."
Zeratul turned to his brethren, pain flickering in his glowing eyes. "I understand your rage—but remember—before the Zerg invasion, before Amon's awakening, we Protoss once coexisted in peace."
"Peace?" another scoffed. "You mean the kind where we were exiled?"
Zeratul's form wavered, but he didn't argue.
Instead, he turned back to Athena, tracing a green arc in the air with his fingers. "Honored Goddess of War, I believe something... has entered our world through the Void's collapse. It has amplified the Tal'darim's inherent fanaticism, and may now be influencing the High Council itself."
At these words, Sigismund's helmet shifted slightly, his crimson visor locking onto Zeratul.
"Do you have proof?"
"Only this."
Zeratul pulled a shattered crystal from a void fold.
Inside it pulsed a strange black-red energy, constantly writhing and shifting, like a living thing trying to escape its confines.
"Extracted from a raving Tal'darim warrior. This is not Void energy."
Athena suddenly stood, her golden armor humming softly.
Her gaze fell on the crystal, her brow furrowed. "This is..."
Sensing her attention, the black-red energy thrashed violently, as if facing its natural nemesis.
Then Athena raised her left hand. The broken crystal floated into her palm as if lifted by an invisible hand.
Golden light flowed from her fingers, twining around the crystal like a living vine.
The corrupted energy twisted and screamed in silence, but under the divine light, it melted away like snow, vanishing in an instant.
The crystal crumbled to dust in her hand. Athena's expression only grew more grave.
Her gaze, blazing, fixed on Zeratul. "What you've brought is more than intelligence, Dark Templar. It is a warning."
She turned to face the assembly. Her golden armor radiated a stern brilliance.
Her voice, low and commanding, rang through the chamber: "So it begins, then. Those parasites that cower in the Warp's shadows have now turned their eyes toward Universe-18."
She tapped her fingertip.
The holographic star map flared to life, revealing dozens of pulsing black-red markers. "They're corrupting the Protoss—the race most sensitive to psionics. This is Chaos's favorite tactic."
A low laugh rumbled from beneath the Shark Raider Captain's helm. "Heh. More heretic scum to kill."
His serrated lightning claw quivered slightly, as if craving blood.
Ghazan's Terminator armor emitted a deep hum. He stepped forward, voice heavy:
"We must eliminate the corruption before it spreads. If Chaos secures a foothold among the Protoss, the human colonies will be next."
Coordinates flashed rapidly across his tactical HUD. "Recommend prioritizing purification of Tal'darim territory."
A hint of concern flickered in Zeratul's green eyes. "But Artanis…"
"The Tal'darim are the most severely corrupted," Athena interrupted. At some point, her Spear of Victory had appeared in her hand, its tip aimed at the brightest black-red marker on the map. "This isn't an internal dispute. This is a war for the survival of the universe."
The room's lighting shifted sharply, the very air seeming to solidify under the weight of her intent.
Athena struck her spear to the floor, the clash of metal and composite echoing with power:
"The Human Empire will purify this starfield with the purest flame."
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