The Entirety of Reach Descends into Chaos
Beep!
The elevator hummed to life, rising steadily. Yet, for Admiral Parangosky, there was no sense of relief—only the growing dread of these superhuman warriors.
On the monitor, the UNSC Defense Forces, mobilized under her orders to suppress what had been labeled an "insurrection," were annihilated in an instant.
Corpses littered the ground—some torn in half, others missing limbs, and some completely decapitated.
It was brutal. It was savage.
The Astartes' combat style made Parangosky recall her most feared adversaries—the Jiralhanae of the Covenant's main fleet, beings of pure, unrestrained violence.
She also worried for her own career. The chaos unfolding within the Reach Fleet Command Base was a disaster. Once the interrogation chamber's security barriers had been breached, she had abandoned any unrealistic hopes of containment.
At this rate, suppression was impossible, and the casualties would only mount.
Whether she managed to regain control or not no longer mattered—her political enemies would seize upon this debacle.
Although military service was ostensibly separate from politics, her rise to this position had been inherently political. The UNSC Security Council had limited seats; for someone to advance, another had to fall.
And it seemed her ascent had just come to an abrupt halt.
Her unease deepened.
Before Nathaniel's sudden outburst, his conduct had been impeccable. In a gesture of goodwill, she had confiscated his weapons but had not forced him to remove his power armor.
Part of her reasoning lay in her confidence in the base's defensive strength.
Another factor was that Nathaniel was alone. Without a helmet, confined to an interrogation chamber, and with anti-materiel weapons trained on him, she had assumed that any resistance could be immediately neutralized. Even a Spartan would not survive a direct headshot at close range—what was there to fear?
She had projected her knowledge of Spartans onto Nathaniel. Even if these bio-enhanced warriors from the Outer Colonies were stronger than Spartans and had deep ties to Dr. Halsey, she had believed their strength had limits.
Her assumption seemed justified when, after Nathaniel turned hostile, the prepared anti-materiel weapon fired, striking him directly in the head.
Yet, despite predicting this, she had never expected what came next. No one could have foreseen that this bio-enhanced warrior could withstand a hypersonic tungsten-core armor-piercing round to the skull—or that he was equipped with some kind of micro-teleportation device.
In the blink of an eye, dozens of heavily armored super-soldiers had materialized out of thin air.
Experience had failed her.
Even more alarming was Nathaniel's teleportation device. Parangosky had never heard of such a thing. Humanity didn't possess it, and neither did the Covenant—their teleportation and slipspace technology required massive machinery.
"Where is Halsey? Has she been captured?"
Parangosky's face darkened. Deep within her, an inexplicable fury took hold, growing stronger—especially after her confrontation with Nathaniel. Her emotions had become increasingly unstable.
Her voice sharpened as she issued her next command: "And all Spartans are to be disarmed immediately. Until we confirm that Halsey hasn't implanted any hidden failsafes in them, they are to remain under guard!"
"But General, without deploying the Spartans, how can the UNSC Defense Forces hope to suppress them? We are severely outmatched!" One of the surviving aides protested, his face pale with fear.
"Then send more troops! Deploy the ODSTs as well—crush the insurgents!"
"But—"
"No buts! What happens if the Spartans turn against us in the middle of battle? These 'bloodthirsty monsters' were brought here under Halsey's influence! Can you take responsibility if anything goes wrong?!"
Her unchecked thirst for power twisted her reasoning further. The thought of blaming Halsey, shifting full responsibility onto her, continued to warp her judgment.
Bang!
Parangosky grabbed the aide by his collar, slamming him against the elevator wall with the fury of a raging bull. "Halsey's 'creations' cannot be trusted until all suspicions are cleared! Do you understand?!"
"...Yes, ma'am."
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The underground transit hub erupted with deafening shrieks as explosive rounds shattered the silence, their echoes reverberating across the closed space.
The sharp roar of bolter fire filled the air. The UNSC Defense Forces and their M12/FAV 'Warthog' vehicles were obliterated in a hail of flesh and debris.
The Night Lords, World Eaters, and Punishers unleashed devastation with heavy bolters, melta weapons, incendiary devices, and plasma weaponry, their firepower unparalleled.
Despite this, the UNSC soldiers retaliated with everything they had, unleashing torrents of metal rain upon the Astartes' energy shields.
Several Astartes had their shields overloaded, bullets hammering against the reinforced adamantium-plated ceramite of their power armor, ringing out with metallic clangs.
Occasionally, grenades detonated against their armor, stripping layers of ornate golden and silver engravings from the power suits, yet failing to penetrate their defenses.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Boots clad in magnetic soles crushed the once-smooth composite flooring beneath them.
The Astartes advanced like an unbreakable wall, their bolters spewing death as they marched forward.
The World Eaters radiated a terrifying bloodlust, their hulking frames lunging at the horrified UNSC soldiers with wicked grins.
Roaring with laughter, they raised their revving chain axes, driving their power armor forward as they launched a horrific, brutal assault on the crumbling UNSC lines.
Ratatatatata!
Bullets stormed toward the charging World Eaters.
Mounted heavy machine guns and grenade launchers atop 'Warthog' assault vehicles unleashed a furious barrage, emptying their ammunition in mere moments to stop the approaching giants.
But the World Eaters did not falter.
Instead of dodging, they charged directly into the storm, their energy shields absorbing the rounds. Once overloaded, they relied on their armor alone, enduring the onslaught like unstoppable juggernauts.
Ting! Ting! Ting!
Bullets clinked harmlessly against the thick ceramite plates, failing to cause any meaningful damage.
Whoosh—Vrrr!
In the blink of an eye, a World Eater stormed up to a UNSC vehicle amidst the hail of bullets.
Crack!
With a single downward swing of his axe, he cleaved through both the vehicle and its occupants, splitting them in two.
Moving with terrifying efficiency, he slaughtered the surrounding UNSC soldiers in less than a second.
Before they could react, more Astartes stormed forward like an unstoppable armored phalanx, crashing into the fragile human lines like a formation of charging war tanks.
In an instant, flesh and limbs were sent flying, blood and viscera painting the battlefield. The air reeked of slaughter, gunpowder, and burning metal.
Splurt!
A Night Lord swung his power sword, lightning streaking through the air as he decapitated an unfortunate foe. Blood sprayed in a crimson arc.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
A Punisher warrior, his expression cold and unyielding, locked eyes on a heavily armored vehicle spitting fire from its gun ports. Without hesitation, he raised his power hammer.
Boom!
The roaring flames were silenced as the ten-ton armored vehicle was hurled through the air, crashing into another nearby vehicle with a deafening explosion.
A massive fireball erupted, smoke and debris billowing in all directions.
Vwoom—Boom!
An M650 armored personnel carrier, unable to evade in time, was incinerated by a blinding beam of thermal energy, its crew reduced to molten slag. Its still-active engine detonated in a secondary explosion, sending nearby UNSC soldiers flying like ragdolls.
"Feeble resistance. You are human—surrender..."
Unlike the Covenant, the United Nations Space Command (UNSC) relied on conventional, though effective, military technology—ballistic weaponry, wheeled vehicles, and combustion engines.
Though their grasp of scientific principles far surpassed that of the Covenant, their application of those principles lagged significantly behind.
Their weapons were undoubtedly more advanced than 21st-century firearms, incorporating electromagnetic accelerators and digital targeting interfaces, but fundamentally, they remained projectile-based, reliant on chemical reactions.
Of course, they had made progress—magnetically accelerated weapons, advanced ammunition tracking, and highly reliable battlefield electronics. The UNSC had achieved remarkable advancements in horizontal and vertical military development.
However, when compared to the Covenant's sophisticated weaponry or the newly uncovered Forerunner technology, their arsenal seemed woefully primitive.
Tat-tat-tat-tat.
Gunfire rang out in defiance.
"Hahaha! That's more like it!"
A World Eater in the vanguard bellowed in laughter, his chainsword roaring to life with renewed ferocity.
From the moment battle began, the outcome was inevitable. This was an utterly mismatched war.
The UNSC's human soldiers could not keep pace with the Astartes' superhuman agility, while the Astartes themselves could obliterate armored vehicles with a single strike.
Thud!
Nathaniel stepped onto the blood-drenched ground, lifting his gaze toward the ascending elevator, as if he could hear Parangosky's desperate commands. A smirk played across his lips.
"Well then, Admiral—you're no longer needed."
Boom!
Nathaniel's jump pack roared to life.
With a powerful crouch and surge of energy, he launched himself skyward.
Inside the elevator, Parangosky, her expression dark, had just finished relaying orders to the orbital defense platform.
Beep! The elevator doors slid open with a metallic chime.
"Where is Halsey? Have you captured her yet?" she demanded for the third time.
She stepped forward—only to hear an unfamiliar, chilling voice behind her.
"Madam, Dr. Halsey is our friend. You mustn't harm her..."
"Damn it!" Her face contorted with rage, and she sprinted forward without looking back.
But she was merely human—an aging, frail human.
Krrrunch!
The deafening roar of a chainsword revving to life, the screeching tear of metal—Parangosky felt an oppressive presence behind her.
She barely had time to react. After only a few steps, a monstrous hand seized her, lifting her off the ground as if she weighed nothing.
Towering over her in gleaming blue power armor was none other than Nathaniel.
"Mr. Nathaniel, do you realize what you're doing? This is a crime! The entire Unified Earth Government will hunt you down..."
Parangosky struggled desperately, trying to break free from Nathaniel's grasp, but her efforts were futile.
"I really must thank you for ordering the disarmament of the Spartans, preventing them from joining the battle." Nathaniel's cold, rasping voice carried a tone of amusement.
"Otherwise, things might have gotten messy. Especially with 117—killing him would've been a shame. I quite admire them... It seems my newly learned hypnosis technique worked quite well on you."
"You—!"
Parangosky opened her mouth, attempting to regain control over her body, but an overwhelming biological fear paralyzed her.
"Why are you doing this? This benefits no one—not you, not me, not anyone. Is this all for Halsey's promise?"
"No, no, no. You've been mistaken from the very beginning."
Nathaniel chuckled, shaking his head before opening his pitch-black eyes once more. The sheer fervor burning within them sent a chill down Parangosky's spine.
"Why do I do this? For Selene!"
Splurt!
Without another word, Nathaniel crushed Parangosky's skull with a sickening crunch, splattering blood across the gleaming double-headed eagle insignia on his armor.
With an indifferent flick, he discarded the lifeless body, then stepped to the side of the corridor, gazing up through the glass dome at the night sky. He whispered, "Let the show begin."
...
Above Reach, in low orbit, the planetary defense platform had scrambled a fleet of aerospace fighters in response to Parangosky's last command, surrounding the ancient "colonial ship."
As the officers debated whether to board or outright destroy the vessel, an unexpected event disrupted their deliberations.
The "old ship" suddenly emitted a blinding purple-red glow, distorting the surrounding space with an intense warp field. Recognizing the anomaly, the UNSC fighters immediately opened fire, but their rounds were intercepted by the Void Shield arrays of the Sacred Selene Empire's specialized light cruisers.
Then, as the defense platform's personnel struggled to comprehend the situation, reality itself was torn asunder. All scanning equipment across the platform faltered and shut down as a massive fleet emerged from the rift.
What greeted them was a vast armada clad in midnight-blue. Beneath the bold golden insignia of the double-headed eagle lay an even more striking symbol—a crimson-winged skull.
The Eighth Legion Astartes—The Night Lords.
Yet before the stunned UNSC forces could process what was happening, another rift split open in the void. From within, an alien fleet of sleek, curved vessels began pouring out in an endless stream.
Three vastly different fleets—each with its own unmistakable architecture—stared one another down in eerie silence.
UNSC: ?
Night Lords: ??
Covenant: ???
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