Order the fleet to begin the final assault on Khar'shan, the Batarian homeworld then Fast forward two days to when the Council fleet arrives to challenge your forces
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"Initiate the final assault on Khar'shan," you command, your seven-and-a-half-foot divine form towering over everyone on the bridge of the Ascendant Justice.
Fleet Admiral Gion stands before the tactical display, her metallic pink hair gleaming under the lights, enormous enhanced breasts straining against her skintight blue bodysuit. "With pleasure, Goddess." Her fingers dance across holographic controls as she issues commands through her neural link to the fleet.
On the massive viewscreen, hundreds of your vessels move into formation around the Batarian homeworld. MAC cannons charge with blinding white energy, targeting major population centers and military installations.
"Fire," Gion orders, her voice resonating with harmonic undertones.
The bombardment begins. From orbit, your ships rain destruction upon Khar'shan. The planet's meager defenses crumble within minutes. Batarian dreadnoughts attempt to mount a counterattack, but they're obliterated before they can even leave atmosphere. Cities burn. Military bases are reduced to craters. The Batarian government's desperate pleas for mercy go unanswered.
"Forward all civilian evacuation requests to me," you instruct coldly. "I want to personally deny each one."
"Of course, Goddess," Gion replies with a cruel smile. "Estimated completion of planetary cleansing: six hours."
You watch impassively as the genocide unfolds. By evening, the Batarian homeworld is nothing but ash and molten rock. Their species, with its tradition of slavery and cruelty, has been effectively exterminated. Logasiri, their final colony, falls shortly after. The Batarian Hegemony ceases to exist.
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Two days later, you stand on the bridge once more. Your transformed Asari harem members wait behind you in formation – Liara, Benezia, Aethyta, Samara, Morinth, Rila, and Falere – all wearing revealing attire that accentuates their magically enhanced curves, their gold-ringed eyes watching you with complete devotion.
"Council fleet detected entering the system, Goddess," Gion announces. "Three hundred and seventeen vessels, including their flagship, the Destiny Ascension."
"Excellent," you purr. "Open communications."
The holographic forms of the Council appear before you. Tevos looks stricken, Sparatus angry, and Valern calculating.
"The genocide you've committed against the Batarians is unprecedented," Tevos begins, her voice trembling slightly. "In the name of galactic peace—"
"Peace?" Gion interrupts with a cold laugh. "You speak of peace while allowing slavery to persist for centuries? Your hypocrisy is astounding."
Sparatus bristles. "Mind your tone! You address the Citadel Council!"
"I address those who failed their duty," Gion replies evenly. "Those who will be held accountable."
"This is your final warning," Valern states. "Withdraw from Batarian space immediately or face the consequences."
Gion simply smiles, saying nothing. The silence stretches uncomfortably.
"I said withdraw!" Valern repeats, more forcefully.
Still, Gion maintains her silence, her expression one of amused contempt.
In frustration, Sparatus signals to someone off-screen. "Fire a warning shot across their bow!"
A Turian cruiser launches a missile that detonates harmlessly in space near your flagship.
Gion turns to you, a predatory smile spreading across her face. "They fired first, Goddess."
"So they did," you reply softly. "Show them what that means."
Gion's eyes gleam as she activates her neural link. "Deploying second half of First Fleet. Summoning Second and Third Fleets from hyperspace."
The Council watches in horror as space tears open around them. Massive carriers – each the size of a small moon – emerge from slipspace, disgorging hundreds of smaller vessels. The Galaxy-class carrier Inevitable dominates the scene, releasing four Infinity-class carriers from its cavernous launch bays. Each Infinity-class then deploys ten frigates.
All around the Council fleet, more vessels appear: Epoch-class heavy carriers, Orion-class assault carriers, Marathon-class heavy cruisers, Valiant-class super-heavy cruisers – hundreds upon hundreds of warships, utterly dwarfing the Council forces in both size and number.
"Goddess," Gion says with barely contained glee, "the Council commander is requesting to speak with you."
"Put him through," you instruct, settling back in your command chair.
A Turian general appears, his mandibles slack with shock. "What... what is this? How can you possibly have so many ships?"
You and Gion exchange a private glance, both struggling not to laugh at his expression.
"General," you reply smoothly, "what you faced in Batarian space was merely half of my First Fleet – approximately ten percent of my total naval forces."
The general's eyes widen in disbelief. Behind him, you can see frantic activity as his officers receive the sensor data confirming your claim.
"Now," you continue, leaning forward, "shall we discuss your surrender? Or would you prefer a demonstration similar to what the Batarians received?"
The Turian swallows hard, his military discipline crumbling before your overwhelming might. "I... I need to confer with the Council."
"You have five minutes," you inform him coldly. "After that, we open fire."