Within the UNSC Command Headquarters base, among the layered fortress-like building complexes between the Spartan Operations Division and the Office of Naval Intelligence (ONI).
This was the core zone established between the intelligence department and the elite field operations division of the UNSC base, a heavily fortified stronghold once defended by multiple defensive lines manned by UNSC ground defense forces.
But now, it had long since been destroyed by an Astartes reconnaissance unit that executed a "center-blooming" tactic from inside the UNSC ONI interrogation chamber through short-range precision teleportation.
Artillery roared, smoke filled the air, and bolt shells screamed past. Corpses lay strewn in grotesque disarray...
Inside the base, wreckage covered the ground. The entire defensive position was shrouded in dust and debris kicked up by explosions and raging flames. Shattered gray-white wall fragments drifted down like falling snow.
Amid the ruined rubble, an M12 Warthog multipurpose assault vehicle had been torn clean in half. Several M650 Mastodon armored transports had been flipped over entirely, their twisted frames embedded deep into the walls. The ammunition of an M808 Scorpion main battle tank had detonated, burning both crew and everything nearby into ash. The stench of scorched protein lingered thickly in the smoke.
And beside the wreckage of those ruined vehicles, only Astartes warriors clad in heavy power armor wandered about. Clank. Clank.
Their magnetic boots scraped across the debris-littered ground, the grating sound mingling with the agonized groans of still-living UNSC defense troopers, like whispers of restless spirits.
Vrrr!
Frenzied, cold, and low—the sound of a chainsword tearing through flesh. Nathaniel's noble, resplendent power armor, marked in deep azure, had long since been baptized in blood and smoke.
"Enemies? Hah... Dr. Halsey should have ordered you to remain on standby in the operations division, Master Chief."
Gripping the throat of a "gift" that had escaped amid the chaos, Nathaniel tilted his head and exerted force with his other hand. The roaring teeth of the chainsword swept horizontally.
Rrip!
The Jiralhanae's chest collapsed inward. Dark red blood and entrails spilled from the horrific gash carved by the chainsword, as though this were nothing more than a slaughterhouse.
"Your security facilities are truly pathetic. We went to the trouble of breaking them down to this state before handing them over to you, and you still managed to let these alien scum escape."
Tossing aside the remaining corpse, Nathaniel flicked his hand in mild disgust.
"As the gift-giver, I reluctantly helped you deal with it. And yet you point your gun at your benefactor. Isn't that somewhat inappropriate?"
Even without his helmet, and with the MA5 rifle in the Master Chief's hands aimed directly at his head, Nathaniel casually spread his arms, speaking in the tone of an old friend.
"Isn't the reason the Jiralhanae were able to escape precisely because of your sudden uprising and destruction?" the Master Chief shot back coldly, unmoved.
"From the very beginning, your objective was to come to Reach and wait for an opportunity to launch an attack—working together with aliens to breach Reach, wasn't it?"
Beside the Master Chief, the fully armed Spartan-134 barked harshly. Naturally hot-tempered, even though his emotional regulator suppressed any impulse to disobey orders, his words were inevitably tinged with anger.
"I genuinely treated you as comrades along the way. I was truly happy that humanity had gained such a powerful new military force."
As a member of Silver Team, Spartan-134 had boarded the Astartes reconnaissance cruiser alongside the Master Chief. Seeing such an elite force—composed of ordinary humans from the Imperial Navy and bio-enhanced warriors—join the Spartan Operations Division had sincerely delighted him.
Nathaniel's friendly conversation with Dr. Halsey had been profoundly deceptive.
"In the end, it was all a disguise! You liars! You're human—even if you're rebels, why would you help aliens?! Why?!"
"Engage." The Master Chief issued the combat command simultaneously.
Rat-tat-tat—boom!
"Help aliens?"
Nathaniel's energy shield had already overloaded under the bombardment of main battle tanks and other heavy firepower from the UNSC defense forces. Before the energy cells could be replaced, countless armor-piercing rounds and grenades hammered against his ornate power armor, ringing with sharp metallic impacts.
For a moment, Nathaniel looked genuinely baffled. Raising an arm to shield his face, he instinctively activated techniques such as Iron Body and Armament Haki.
At Spartan-134's accusation, he was truly confused. What nonsense was this? He—a noble Astartes warrior bathed in the radiance of the Emperor Selene—colluding with aliens? That was utter bullshit!
Indeed, from the start, their objective had been to come to Reach and wait for an opportunity to strike, crippling the UNSC Reach Naval Fleet Command's central command system. There had even been a plan for internal coordination—but the counterpart was not the Covenant.
Nathaniel shook his chainsword lightly, sweeping aside a barrage of incoming fire.
"Night Lords, with me. End this quickly. Be careful—don't 'injure' our old friends too badly."
Dr. Halsey had failed to restrain them, and judging from the Master Chief's attitude, they were convinced the Astartes had colluded with the Covenant. There was definitely some hidden truth behind this.
Better to subdue these Spartans first.
With that thought, Nathaniel surged forward without hesitation, charging straight into the incoming storm of fire from the advancing Spartans.
Vrrr—!
The chainsword's teeth let out a low growl. It roared like a ravenous beast, eager to drink deeply of flesh and blood.
Behind Nathaniel, the Night Lords burst from every corner of the ruins like shadowed hunters, shrieking as they dove forward.
Though Nathaniel had instructed them to show restraint, the Night Lords' attacks were as vicious as ever. To them, "injure" simply meant not beheading their foes and leaving at least a breath of life.
As for being cut in half at the waist or reduced to limbless stumps—mere minor injuries in the hands of a fully exerting Astartes Apothecary.
Only the Night Lords had such patience. If it were the World Eaters, they would simply hack their enemies to death. The Night Lords, by contrast, often preserved their enemies' lives to indulge in their own particular hobbies.
Regarding the accusations led by the Master Chief and the Spartans this time, Nathaniel intended to see whether there truly was some hidden plot.
If there was—then they would settle it with a good fight, strengthen their "bond," and later restore whatever limbs were lost.
If there wasn't—they would still be restored afterward, but would have to take a trip to the prison interrogation chambers.
Under the barrage of gunfire, Nathaniel's deep-azure power armor rang continuously. Each step he took smashed a crater into the ground, kicking up clouds of dust.
"Spread out. Formation B. Semi-contact. Mobile engagement."
Fully aware of the overwhelming disparity in raw physical capability between the two sides, the Master Chief made his decision instantly.
Without another word, he charged straight toward the Night Lord barreling forward like a human battering ram. The MA5 rifle in his hands spat continuous streams of fire, round after round striking the exact same point on Nathaniel's forehead with machine precision.
"Hoping for a localized breakthrough? Not a bad idea. But your weapon is far too weak!"
Vrrr—!
With a violent downward strike, the chainsword crashed into the ground. A semi-materialized shockwave erupted outward like the blast of a detonating nuclear weapon, centered on the descending blade and sweeping everything nearby clean!
Bang!
The MA5 rifle was instantly shredded by the monomolecular cutting teeth. The outer plating of the Mjolnir exoskeleton system was sliced away, and even the titanium-nano composite bodysuit beneath was torn open. The Master Chief rolled desperately, his left shoulder a mangled mess of blood and flesh, before the shockwave hurled him hard into the wreckage of a nearby armored vehicle.
And arriving even faster than the Night Lords themselves—were their bolt rounds.
A chain-glaive nailed a black-armored Spartan to the ground. What followed was the shrill, ear-splitting roar of multiple chainsaw blades, blooming across the battlefield in iron-and-blood flowers.
Blood mist rose. Chainswords swept. At the very first clash, the Spartans who were not members of Silver Team felt unprecedented pressure. It had nothing to do with tactics or technique—this was sheer, one-sided suppression born of fundamental physical superiority.
Very quickly, after blasting and smashing one Spartan after another into unconsciousness, Nathaniel realized where the problem lay.
Internal UNSC communications had apparently been cut. The Spartans were reduced to shouting to coordinate with one another.
It turned out that the main fleet of the Night Lords and the Covenant fleet had jumped into the Reach system at nearly the same time. Upon detecting them, the UNSC followed preset protocol and issued a global alert: Covenant fleet attack.
The moment they heard of a Covenant invasion, the Master Chief and the Spartans had prepared to deploy without hesitation. And at precisely that time, the Astartes vanguard reconnaissance force had been slaughtering personnel and dismantling the UNSC command system.
Adding to that, the Legion Commander of the Night Lords, Konrad Curze, had deployed Spatial Lockdown—sealing Reach's jump routes to the outside while also disrupting UNSC communications.
This entire engagement zone lay deep within thick fortress walls. The Master Chief and the others had taken rapid deployment corridors with no skylights and no view of the outside world. With communications severed, they truly had no idea what was happening beyond these walls.
And once the Master Chief encountered the Night Lords attacking UNSC defense forces—that alone was ironclad proof in their eyes.
Nathaniel killing the Jiralhanae prisoners he had delivered—who had attempted to escape in the chaos—only reinforced their suspicions. From their perspective, it looked exactly like silencing witnesses and eliminating loose ends.
Did they intend to disguise themselves as remnants of the defeated Reach fleet and repeat the same deception on Earth?
"Whether we're Covenant collaborators or not, I suggest you take a look outside," Nathaniel said with a faint chuckle. Resting both hands on the pommel of his chainsword, he pointed upward toward the ceiling.
"Look well. The galaxy is about to welcome a new order. Whether it's you—or the Covenant—your destruction will come in the blink of an eye!"
When the Spartans who still retained consciousness sensed something was wrong, what their helmet visual sensors captured was nothing short of myth.
Boom—!!!
In the next instant, from hundreds of kilometers above, a radiant beam hundreds of meters in diameter pierced straight through every layer of concealment.
Rumble—
Rising from the shockwave unleashed by the descending spear of light, they saw that the layered fortress domes of the bastion had been blasted open. Through the breach, the Spartans stared blankly at a world they no longer recognized.
A crimson sun seemed to rise slowly along the horizon. The eastern sky resembled a blood-stained curtain, its hue enough to chill the heart.
Above the skyline, the once-dreamlike cosmic starfield had vanished. In its place loomed colossal warships of the Imperial Navy, blotting out the sky.
And directly above the command tower base, the Nightfall—over three hundred kilometers in length—resembled a moving mountain range in the heavens.
Thoom—rumble! Thoom—rumble!
From those mountains in the sky, several massive pillars of light descended. The earth trembled like a beating heart. The thunderous reverberations struck the soul like the scythe of death, visible for dozens of miles as they speared into the clouds.
Their dreadful majesty defied description. Only when a vile enemy encounters a Supreme-class Titan does one truly understand the meaning of despair.
Immediately afterward, cone-shaped drop pods were launched. They tore through orbital trajectories and plunged into the planet's atmosphere. Soon, friction from speed and pressure wrapped them in blazing fire.
The entire sky burned—as if a meteor shower were descending.
"The Legion Commander has arrived," Nathaniel said, breaking the silence. His expression was unreadable as he asked, "Now that the misunderstanding is cleared up—are we still fighting?"
Before the words had even faded—boom!—a drop pod slammed vertically into the breach.
The immense impact hurled debris and shattered stone into the air, instantly carving out a massive crater...
There was no cushioning, no pause. Only an Astartes could withstand such extreme overload and immediately enter battle at full strength.
Clank. Clank.
As the outer armor plates of the drop pod unfolded with mechanical precision, a sharp hiss escaped the hydraulic valves.
Thud. Thud. Thud...
Heavy footsteps echoed as an Astartes clad in ornate deep-azure power armor stepped out. Across his back rested a power halberd crackling with terrifying Honkai energy fluctuations.
Behind him, a squad of Night Lords filed out in perfect formation.
"Nathaniel... well done."
The skull-faced helm adorned with crimson bat wings swept its gaze across the Spartans and the Night Lords of the reconnaissance detachment before finally settling on Nathaniel. His voice was low and resonant.
"Captain!" Nathaniel saluted at once.
"These are the bio-enhanced warriors called 'Spartans' mentioned in your report... Did you not say you had reached an agreement with their leader? Why are you engaged in combat? Has the cooperation broken down?"
The Night Lords Captain asked in confusion. As he spoke, he raised his power halberd, its blade pointing directly at the Spartans standing ready for battle. "Are they enemies of the Empire? Should they be erased?"
Scarlet lightning converted from dense violet-crimson Honkai energy crackled along the halberd's edge.
Click.
Bolters chambered. Gun barrels rose.
In an instant, the atmosphere turned murderous.
And just as Nathaniel was about to respond, a cold, majestic female voice descended from the highest heavens, bringing every flame of war across the stars to a halt.
"Curze, cease the attack."
Imperial Gothic, English, Sangheili... regardless of language, though she spoke from afar above the sea of stars, her voice resounded clearly and precisely in the minds of every intelligent being fighting upon Reach.
"This is..."
"Your Majesty!!"