In the depths of a pitch-black starfield, a dark red planet moved slowly along an elliptical orbit, like a festering wound in the fabric of space. This was Char.
Once a thriving core world of the Terran Federation, it had now become a hellscape overrun by the Zerg.
Thick volcanic ash blanketed its surface, while intense radiation from the binary star system turned the atmosphere a sickly orange-red.
At perihelion, its sun-facing side transformed into a boiling sea of magma. At aphelion, the lava hardened into grotesque black archipelagos.
Despite such harsh conditions, the Terran Federation had once launched several colonial wars here to claim its rich heavy metal resources. Now, only Zerg writhed between lava and sulfur.
Suddenly, the space within Char's gravitational well began to violently distort—
Whoosh—Whoosh—!
Hundreds of warp scars flared into existence simultaneously. In the next moment, a fleet of terrifying scale—massive even by StarCraft standards—gradually emerged, numbering over 500 ships.
The mainstay of this fleet was composed of behemoth-class battleships (comparable to the Hyperion class). All vessels deployed in a flawless wedge formation, their prow-mounted particle cannons charging up, blue-white energy flickering at the barrels.
More small ships completed their warp jumps in waves, soon forming a visible steel jungle within Char's gravity well.
At the fleet's center, aboard the Gorgon-class battlecruiser Bucephalus, Valerian Mengsk stood before the panoramic viewpane.
The crown prince of the Terran Dominion wore a deep red robe trimmed in gold, and his platinum hair was neatly bound by a black circlet.
His slender fingers absentmindedly stroked the antique longsword at his waist, while his gaze reflected the eerie glow of Char's magma seas.
His handsome face betrayed no emotion, but the slight furrow between his brows revealed the weight on his mind.
He stared intently at the rolling lava beyond the glass, as though seeking answers from the churning inferno.
"General Warfield."
Valerian's voice was calm and measured, but those who knew him could hear the tension beneath it. "I need an assessment of the number of ships from the Human Empire."
At his side stood a tall Black general clad in custom white CMC power armor—Horace Warfield—who immediately pulled up a tactical holomap.
The aging general's weathered face looked even more resolute under the blood-red glow of Char.
"According to the latest intel, Your Highness…" Warfield said with equal gravity, "The Human Empire has dispatched approximately 240 vessels."
"…"
Valerian said nothing. His fingers tapped the window frame in a slow, heartbeat-like rhythm.
Then he gave a slight nod, eyes still locked on the burning landscape outside.
The bridge fell into silence, broken only by the hum of machinery and the occasional report over the comms.
"General,"
Valerian spoke again, this time so softly it seemed like he was speaking to himself, "Do you think our fleet deployed at Char can go toe-to-toe with the Human Empire?"
"This…"
Warfield didn't know how to respond.
All of the Dominion's upper echelons now understood the Human Empire was an enormous power from another universe—and that it might be aided by so-called "gods."
The real issue was this: reliable intelligence indicated their mainline warships were generally over a kilometer long. And with infantry like the Astartes—what could the Dominion possibly do against that?
If Arcturus Mengsk hadn't rigorously suppressed all true intel and slandered the Human Empire's actions within Dominion territory, the regime would've already fallen into chaos.
No—had already fallen into chaos.
After all, even the crown prince had secretly pulled half the Dominion's fleet to his side. The Mengsk regime, under Arcturus, was already on the verge of collapse.
Warfield personally believed the only reason the Human Empire hadn't already launched a full-on assault on Dominion space was because they genuinely valued humanity, avoiding further bloodshed among kin.
Otherwise, the Dominion wouldn't have lasted this long.
"…"
At that moment, Valerian's fingertips trembled faintly on the window frame. Warfield's silence was more deafening than any answer.
The prince gazed at his reflection in the shatterproof glass—
The face that was supposed to inherit an empire of tens of billions, now twisted and unfamiliar in Char's crimson light.
He thought of the eternal throne in the Korhal palace, of the cold clack of his father Arcturus's staff striking the marble floor.
Though his father had treated him and his mother poorly, and he had never liked nor respected him, Valerian was still the rightful heir.
If not for the Human Empire's sudden arrival, he could have slowly, legally, usurped power—won the people's favor, seized control of the vast empire, and ascended to the pinnacle.
But now, all his carefully laid plans, all his political posturing and manipulation, were rendered laughably childish before the overwhelming force of the Human Empire.
"When… will they arrive?"
Valerian's voice was squeezed out between clenched teeth, every syllable soaked in suppressed fury.
He deliberately dropped formalities. His left hand gripped the antique sword at his waist—a once-proud symbol of Mengsk nobility that now felt like a toy.
"…"
Warfield opened his mouth, Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to form words. The CMC suit's servos let out a soft hum.
Then—
Whoosh—!
Reality outside the window tore open.
A warp vortex over a hundred kilometers wide erupted like a god's eye opening in the void. Its cerulean eddies bathed Char's atmosphere in ghostly blue light.
First to breach the veil of reality was a Pilgrim-class Black Templar dreadnought. Its blade-shaped hull resembled a moving tectonic plate, and the scriptures engraved across its surface glowed blindingly in the turbulent energy.
Next came a death phalanx of Emperor-class battleships—armored behemoths that resembled cathedrals and temples drifting in space. Their hulls gleamed with a sheen like molten metal.
"My god…"
Warfield's shoulder armor trembled, and his helmet's HUD flooded with constantly updating scale readings.
The secondary batteries on those ships were as wide as the Bucephalus's bridge, and their armor thickness defied Dominion understanding.
Just then, the communications officer shouted in alarm:
"P-Prince! They're forcing access to our comms!"
No sooner had the words fallen than the holo-projector exploded in a flash of blue light.
Four towering figures began to take shape from converging particles—
Sigismund's black armor was etched with scripture, his massive power sword adorned with skulls; Gaozan's bronze Terminator armor exuded the heat of battle; Phoros's wings shed glowing motes in the energy flux; and Tyberos's shark-tooth helm spat cold mist.
Their projections nearly touched the bridge ceiling. The hydraulic hiss of their power armor was like dragons growling.
"!!"
Valerian involuntarily took a step back, bumping into the tactical console.
His proud height made him look like a child before these walking war machines. Even breathing became difficult.
His pupils contracted sharply, reflecting Sigismund's faceplate.
"According to Article 17 of the Inter-Civilization Contact Accord—"
Sigismund's voice was like sandpaper grinding steel, each word shaking the bridge's systems. "You are hereby conscripted as auxiliary forces."
And before he finished, Tyberos—towering and terrifying—leaned forward, casting a shadow over Valerian's ashen face and growling:
"Any objections?"
"…"
Valerian's lips parted slightly, the hem of his robe trembling.
The crown prince of the Dominion suddenly realized that his carefully prepared diplomatic rhetoric and political cunning were nothing more than child's play before these warriors forged in fire and death.
The Human Empire's fleet formed up outside. A single salvo from those main batteries could redraw Char's geography.
And he—Valerian Mengsk—was now struggling just to remain standing.
As he tried to force out a syllable, throat convulsing in fear, the air in the bridge suddenly thickened.
The holo-projector burst into radiant gold light. Athena's form coalesced from swirling particles.
Though she appeared "only" a little over two meters tall, her presence multiplied the gravity in the room.
Every pattern on her golden armor flowed with divine brilliance. The tip of her Spear of Victory cast dancing sparks on the deck.
Valerian's knees buckled. He clutched the console edge to stay upright. Worse still was her gaze—
Those eyes, burning with golden flame, seemed to pierce his skull and lay every shadow in his soul bare under sunlight.
The prince's carefully constructed mental defenses crumbled under divine scrutiny. He felt like a dissected specimen, each thread of ambition laid out for judgment.
"Heh… child."
Athena's soft chuckle dropped the room's temperature. Each step she took left molten footprints on the metal deck. "Your plans are… cute."
The words stabbed Valerian like a dagger. Every coup, mutiny, and usurpation he'd planned flashed before him—exposed in an instant.
The goddess raised her hand. A clash of golden bracers rang out.
At once, every Dominion fleet comm channel activated. Her voice rolled like thunder across every bridge:
"This is Pallas Athena of the Human Empire. From this moment forward, you are conscripted as auxiliary forces."
The Bucephalus's lights flickered, as though the ship itself trembled under divine will. "All actions and operations will be under our command."
With that, Athena cut the comm—and stepped closer to Valerian.
Her impossibly flawless face filled his vision, yet he dared not look into her eyes.
"Child," this time, her voice was barely a whisper, meant only for nearby ears, yet it froze the blood more than any roar. "I know what you're thinking…"
Veins bulged at Valerian's temples. Childhood memories surged unbidden—
The riots on Korhal, his mother's tears, his father's cold scepter.
Athena placed a finger on his brow. A thread of golden energy passed through the hologram—across thousands of kilometers—into his skin.
"The Human Empire can be gentle."
Her voice took on a seductive rhythm. In Valerian's mind, he saw himself being awarded honors in a Human Empire uniform.
"But I can also bear the Emperor's sins of slaughter…"
Her illusion suddenly shifted—Korhal Palace in flames. Mengsk family corpses hung from shattered pillars.
Valerian's lungs felt crushed by an invisible hand. Cold sweat soaked his luxurious robe.
When he finally forced out the words "Understood… ma'am," a trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth.
Athena's expression softened instantly. The divine pressure faded like a receding tide.
She gently straightened his collar with the grace of a court tutor.
"A wise choice," Athena affirmed. "Now then—"
WAA—WAA—!!
Before she could finish, a shrill alarm shattered the tense stillness.
The tactical screen lit up with a sea of red dots. A shaken officer stammered out the report:
"Massive Zerg fleet approaching! Numbers—growing exponentially!"
At this, Athena showed not the slightest fear. She merely said calmly:
"Looks like the audience has arrived."
Her image began to fade, but her final words echoed through the bridge:
"Let the Dominion soldiers witness real war."
The four Astartes captains vanished along with her.
"Cough—cough—cough!"
General Warfield suddenly broke into a fit of coughing. Other crew members gasped for air as if released from a crushing weight. Data slates lay scattered across the deck.
It was as if the moment "divine might" faded, everyone instinctively dropped what they were holding.
"Your Highness…"
The old general wiped blood from his mouth—but found Valerian staring out the viewport.
In Char's red light, the Human Empire fleet was shifting formation.
Strange Chinese characters lit up in the seams of their colossal hulls, while farther out, the Zerg swarm darkened the stars, spreading like a plague.
Valerian's trembling hand pressed the comm key. His voice rang through all 500 Dominion warships:
"All personnel… obey the Human Empire's command."
The words drained all his strength—but carried a strange sense of release.
The view outside suddenly made him understand that his lifelong pursuit of power games was nothing but dust before true cosmic might.
(End of Chapter)
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