Prepare our legions. Cthulhu awaits us.

In the Frozen Void, Near Neptune's Orbit

Far from the subterranean chaos of Hollow Earth and the tense vigil in Cancún, in the heart of his cyclopean Mothership—or perhaps in a hidden citadel in the frozen methane depths of Neptune—Supreme Commander Amitiel watched the unfolding events with cold, dispassionate satisfaction. Screens of pure energy, larger than any human cathedral, displayed streams of cosmic data, the dance of Lyran fleets in their desperate resistance, and the pulsations of Cthulhu's consciousness spreading through the solar system.

A Luciferian Netlin, one of his lieutenants, of terrifying beauty and eyes like fragments of dead stars, bowed before him. "Grand Strategist," the Netlin's voice was a dissonant harmony, "we have received an... impression... from the Great Old One."

Amitiel did not move, her form of solidified light and shadow enthroned in the center of the vast command room. "Well?" Her mental voice was calm, but with a weight that made the air vibrate.

"The essence of the Anunnaki-Commander, Enlil," the Luciferian transmitted, "has... vanished from the depths of Terra. Dispersed. Broken. The Great Old One no longer perceives it as a coherent obstruction or an active threat. It considers its... task of neutralization in that sector complete." She added, almost as an afterthought, "It also reports that the Chaos parasite, Nyx, and her beast, Poimandres, have been silenced, their energy virtually extinguished."

A very slow, almost imperceptible smile touched Amitiel's perfect lips. It was not a smile of joy, but of cold calculation and an ancient, satisfied grudge. Enlil... thought the Fallen Strategist, always so predictable in your warrior arrogance, so desperate to prove your worth to a father who never saw you as anything more than a hammer. Finally, the weight of your own ambitions and constant failures has crushed you. One less obstacle in the Grand Design. The lineage of Anu weakens even further... excellent.

"And the Ancient One?" Amitiel asked, her attention already shifting from Enlil's supposed fall.

"He is... reorienting himself, Grand Strategist," the Luciferian replied. "His primary consciousness, the one that had anchored itself deep within Terra, is beginning to withdraw from that immediate focus. His... energetic appendages and dimensional projections are retracting and converging. The new vector of his primary emanation is... the Saturn system."

Amitiel nodded, a glimmer of cold understanding in his quasar-like eyes. Saturn. A ringed giant with a hidden history. Ancient dimensional portals, according to some forbidden Netlin texts. Or perhaps, a key stronghold of the Lyran races that dared to resist. Or a strategic objective in their own vast plan to "Order" the system.

"Good," Amitiel projected to her Luciferian commanders. "The Great Old One has completed his... initial sanitation of the most immediate threats on Terra. He has demonstrated his power, sown the necessary terror. Now, let him join us in the real task." Her gaze shifted to a star chart showing the last known positions of the Reptilian, Gray, and Insectoid fleets. "Together, we will eradicate the troublesome and persistent insurgency of the Lyran races. Their scattered fleets are an affront to the Order that must and will prevail in this sector."

He rose from his throne of dark light, his figure casting a shadow that seemed to devour the stars. "Prepare our legions. Cthulhu awaits us. The purge of this solar system has only just begun. Terra's self-proclaimed 'allies' will soon discover the true futility of resistance when the Cold Light of Order and the Truth of the Void join in glorious annihilation."

In the icy darkness of Neptune, the Fallen Tactician smiled again, a vision of cosmic nightmare. The game was playing out according to his millennia-old designs. Or so he believed. Earth and its puny defenders were a footnote in his grand symphony of cosmic rectification.