Having completed his colossus form, Sui Meng's truly mountain-like head turned slightly, and his star-like gaze locked onto the nearest massive blood moon, a behemoth with a diameter of several thousand kilometers.
That blood moon seemed to sense the sudden presence radiating an aura it found profoundly hateful and terrifying. Its surface writhed madly, trying to muster greater energy to counter or defend.
But Sui Meng gave it no chance.
He raised a hand vast enough to grasp a mountain range, and the ten-thousand-meter power war-spear he gripped came up with it.
Along the shaft, brilliant golden psionic power flowed and pooled like liquid, finally condensing at the tip into a point of dazzling light, as if it could pierce the universe's very substrate.
Without a shout or any wasted motion, Sui Meng simply thrust the spear straight toward the blood moon, almost casually.
Vmmmmmmmm—!!!
A golden flood of indescribable grandeur and searing brilliance surged from the spearpoint.
This psionic surge was not a mere energy beam. It carried order, purification, and an absolute repulsion of all filth and chaos.
Where the flood passed, even the void itself seemed to be purified and "ironed flat," the residual psychic pollution of the blood moons dispersed in an instant.
At extreme speed, the golden torrent struck the massive blood moon dead on.
On contact there was no explosion—only a sight more shocking still—
The surface of the blood moon, dense with warped organics and alien energies, began to "char" and "melt" at high speed under the golden light, like snow and ice thrown into a furnace.
Foul flesh was purified to its most basic particles. Twisted structures collapsed under the shock of order. The nauseating crimson glow dimmed sharply, as if meeting its nemesis.
It was not only physical destruction, but purification and burning at the level of existence.
In a matter of seconds, that vast blood moon—once radiating baleful oppression and wide enough to blot out the stars—was reduced by Sui Meng's stroke of supreme might to a field of spreading, fading golden embers, and at last vanished utterly into the vacuum, as if it had never been.
This miracle-like scene not only cowed the remaining blood moons, it was seared just as deeply into the eyes of every Diwuzu, auxiliary, and all humans able to witness it.
!!!
The impact of this spectacle—far beyond the bounds of comprehension—was transformative.
First and foremost, it hit the blood moon host still surrounding the star domain.
Their vast, twisted collective consciousness seemed to stall for a heartbeat.
If these celestial bodies—amalgams of ancient remains, alien energy, and warped will—possessed anything like an "emotion" or "awareness" feedback mechanism, then what filled their "hearts" at that instant must have been extreme astonishment, stupefaction, and even a flicker of instinctive dread.
Through countless "cycles," they had devoured and "assimilated" civilizations beyond number with sheer mass and psychic pollution. When had they ever met an existence able to annihilate them outright with individual might?
Sui Meng's appearance—and the sacred power he wielded, bearing absolute order and purification—lay wholly outside their cognitive frame and broke their entrenched "harvest" pattern.
Meanwhile, journalists in low orbit—still at their posts despite the danger of stray fire and blood moon energy—captured the field in high-precision images and were swept by an inexpressible shock and awe.
Their lenses had been fixed on the grand exchange of fire between fleet and blood moons—already beyond what ordinary minds could imagine.
But when the feed came back of Sui Meng completing his colossus form and destroying a blood moon in one stroke, everyone who saw it—whether aboard shuttles or in ground studios—almost stopped breathing.
This…
How could this still be war on the mortal plane?
It was a rebirth of ancient legend: a god descending, scouring demons with supreme divine might!
That radiant body ten thousand meters high, that cloak burning with golden flame, that faceplate grim as a god or ghost, that spear which, with a sweep, unleashed a purifying flood…
Every detail mirrored humanity's ancient images of the divine—and struck even harder.
Science and reason felt pale in that moment. What unfolded before their eyes was forcibly remolding their worldview.
Though the Earth of Dead Space had sunk into unprecedented chaos—transport paralyzed, social order on the brink—thanks to the information infrastructure built over centuries, the global network backbone, under the deliberate protection of the Diwuzu's sapient AI, miraculously kept basic operations alive.
That was why those journalists dared remain in low orbit. They needed to beam the signal home and tell the world the truth.
Now, that not-yet-broken network became a conduit for "miracles."
When the real-time footage of Sui Meng descending like a god and burning a blood moon with one strike began to spread madly across whatever media platforms and social networks still stood—accompanied by reporters' trembling voices—the psychological impact and shock on the surviving global populace was immense and immediate.
Panic still existed, but now it was laced with something new—
a near-religious awe and wonder.
Most of all among those who had believed—or still wavered—in the Unification Church, the "ideological earthquake" was the fiercest.
What they had long called "ascension," what they revered as a god's avatar or messenger—the "blood moons"—proved so pitifully weak before that golden colossus.
By contrast, the blood moons—scarlet, twisted, breath reeking of death and mutation—now looked to many like true demons from the abyss.
And the "golden giant" who stood forth to shield humanity, cleansing evil with sacred radiance, seemed far more a true guardian god, worth following and believing in.
Many believers saw their faith collapse and re-form. On the streets, frenzied prayers gave way to cries of wonder and pleas.
In hidden, heavily guarded bunkers and secret redoubts, however, the Unification Church's upper echelon watched the same feed over encrypted lines and felt something else entirely.
There was no relief of the spared, no shock of conversion—only marrow-deep chill and boundless fear.
Their "doomsday" had arrived.
They knew better than anyone what they had done for the sake of "ascension" and power:
awakening the Primordial God Seal, calling in the blood moons, directly or indirectly causing the deaths and mutations of countless compatriots.
What unforgivable crimes would these be in the eyes of a "god" who seemed to represent order and light and wield such might?
They had no doubt: nothing they had done could be hidden from a "god's" sight.
Despair coiled around their hearts like a cold viper.
At the storm's center, under a thousand eyes, Sui Meng's will stayed pure and focused.
He spared no attention for the Unification Church's panic, nor for how the humans of Dead Space perceived his "godlike" form.
All his mind locked on the blood moons that still threatened the fleet, the Earth, and human civilization.
After delivering that first, chastening strike, his vast divine body did not rest.
Like an ancient deity striding the star sea, he swept the ten-thousand-meter spear once more.
This time, it was not a precise blow at a single target, but a grander, area-wide purification.
With the spear's arc, waves of golden psionic force spread outward like tides. These "psionic tides" seemed to possess a will of their own, precisely skirting Diwuzu ships. Like warm sunlight melting ice—or sacred fire burning filth—they took in every blood moon fragment, small blood moon, even medium blood moons they touched and folded them into the purifying field.
The Diwuzu fleet seized the moment.
Inspired by the Primarch's display of supreme might, every ship's fire output seemed to climb a tier.
Lance arrays fired saturation broadsides. Macro munitions poured out as if costless. Torpedo swarms wove a network of annihilation. Together with Sui Meng's psionic tides, they formed perfect combined arms.
The golden psionics cleansed the blood moons' essence, and the Empire's iron flood destroyed their physical structures.
Under this dual strike, the battle went one-sided.
Almost instantly, the blood moon host that had blotted out the stars began to shrink at a speed visible to the naked eye.
One after another, blood moons "wailed"—if they could make sound—and collapsed and vanished in golden light and blazing shellfire.
It was like a grand rite of purification across the starfield—filth driven out, the light of order falling once more.
The remaining blood moons' collective consciousness finally judged the situation as a total defeat.
They found that before the golden giant who had appeared, and the fleet hewing in savage coordination, their prized advantages of numbers and psychic taint counted for almost nothing. They gained nothing in a frontal fight. Only "purification" awaited if they lingered.
The survival instinct—or the "low-level program" to avoid total destruction—overrode all else.
What remained of the blood moons—no longer many—stopped trying to attack or approach. They turned away, surges over their vast hides turned wildly unstable, as if initiating some hyperspace jump or dimensional submersion. They meant to flee this battlespace that had become their graveyard as fast as possible.
They chose retreat.
Before an absolute disparity of power, fleeing was their only and correct choice.
The scarlet pall over Earth's sky was rapidly thinning.
Watching the remnant blood moons hurtle headlong into deep space and their warped jump signatures fade at the edge of the detectors, Sui Meng knew the primary orbital threat was temporarily lifted.
He flicked the war-spear—shaped like a guandao—casting off the nonexistent last ember of the blood moons' purification.
Then the towering ten-thousand-meter divine body flared with blazing gold once more—but now the glow drew inward, compressing.
The vast psionic force and matter comprising the colossus reassembled under the ancient spell. That mountain-sized frame shrank at a speed visible to the eye.
A few breaths later, the golden radiance ebbed, revealing Sui Meng back in his "normal" state—
still the genetic Primarch's superhuman body, five and a half meters tall, clad in splendid, imperious power armor.
Only a faint, elusive golden aura lingered on the plates, and a residue of divinity that made mortals avert their gaze.
He set off with steady stride across the Renwei Yonggu's wide, cold dorsal plating, mag-boots knocking out a rhythmic, heavy beat, toward the nearest air-seal hatch—each step like treading the cadence of victory.
Even on the way back to the bridge, his orders went out through the neural link and ship comms, clear and precise, to the entire legion:
"Inform all forces: the orbital threat is temporarily cleared.
Units of the Biology Division, immediately assist the fleet. Under safe conditions, collect and recover as many blood moon remnants scattered through the battlespace as possible. Priority is samples containing active signals or special energy fluctuations, for subsequent research into their essence and weaknesses."
"Engineering Division, all units, begin fleet damage assessment and emergency repairs at once.
Concurrently, organize technical elements to monitor and cleanse the near-Earth orbit and upper atmosphere. Employ every available measure, including but not limited to energy-neutralization fields, particulate collection nets, and directed radiation clearing. Reduce, to the maximum extent possible, the potential impact of blood moon debris and residual energies on Earth's ecology."
"Ground forces, maintain maximum alert.
Tasking change: shift from defensive interception to comprehensive sweep-and-clear. Authorize all combat units to execute indiscriminate elimination protocols on all remaining corpse-mutants within visual range, any xenoform not certified by the Empire, and all flagged heretic elements.
Special note: those Unification Church fanatics who remain obstinate have been formally designated heretics.
To ensure Earth's overall security and the consolidation process, frontline units are authorized to exercise final adjudicative authority. Act first, report later. Upon contact, shoot on sight. Use absolute force to suppress all resistance."
His voice was cold and resolute, without a trace of hesitation.
In extraordinary times, extraordinary measures. Mercy toward diehard elements who could spark greater chaos is cruelty.
After a brief pause, he issued a key directive: "Additionally, the Xianzhen's task is to escort, throughout, the War Maidens squad accompanying the fleet to the designated coordinates—
the underground research facility on the Yucatán Peninsula—and attempt a safe recovery and sequestration of Earth's Primordial God Seal.
The objective is to ensure that object can never again imperil Earth and humanity. This task holds the highest priority. All necessary resources are authorized. It must be completed."
With the Primarch's orders, the focus of war shifted entirely to the surface.
Across the continents, the battles changed markedly.
Deprived of the blood moon host's long-range guidance and energy support, the corpse-mutant armies that had surged like tides with eerie coordination suddenly lost their spine.
Their movements grew sluggish and chaotic. No longer did they mount organized assaults on Diwuzu lines. Instead, driven by basic instinct—hunger for living flesh and aggression—they broke into scattered, disorderly free action.
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