Zagara—Kerrigan's right hand, a brutal, resilient, and cunning Broodmother.
In the original StarCraft lore, after Kerrigan's ascension, Zagara's philosophy clashed with Abathur's; she favored peaceful development while Abathur believed only in endless war and consumption. Now, this leader with intelligence far surpassing other Broodmothers was about to gain a new Master.
Her massive form slowly manifested from higher dimensions. "Master," her voice echoed in Alexei's mind.
"From now on, you are responsible for managing the Hive in this sector. Develop them, and eliminate any threat to our survival," Alexei ordered.
"Understood, Master." Her monstrous form scuttled toward the heart of the Hive.
Next, Alexei unlocked two more Zerg genetic templates representing the evolution of the Hydralisk: the Lurker and the Impaler. These units could attack from underground, skewering flesh and steel with high-density retractable spikes—perfect for area denial against massed enemies. He handed the templates to Abathur for refinement and ordered Zagara to build Lurker Dens.
His intuition told him it wouldn't be long before the Tzeentch cultists lost their patience.
With everything arranged, Alexei left the Hive. He no longer needed to worry about the daily growth; Abathur and Zagara would see to it. He could monitor everything through the psionic network.
"When the time is right, we launch the final offensive," he thought, walking back toward the gang headquarters. Many scavengers still haunted the dim paths, though their numbers were dwindling as Alexei recruited them into his factories.
For many scavengers, a stable job in a factory—even a 24/7 grind—was a dream. It meant steady water, food, and protection. That a gang like the Sons of the Tide would accept "vermin" like them was unheard of. Alexei screened them, isolating those who looked human and capable of work to prevent cultist infiltration.
Alexei's mindset had shifted. He no longer wanted to run; he wanted to turn this planet into his base of operations. The strength of his three-race units gave him the confidence to overthrow the Planetary Governor. As for the Imperium? As long as he paid the Tithe and pledged loyalty to the Emperor, they wouldn't care who ruled the planet. His Terran-manufactured weapons could serve as the Tithe itself.
Regarding the approaching Tyranid fleet, he felt that with his hybrid units, he could handle a splinter fleet. After all, the main Tyranid forces were occupied elsewhere or broken into smaller tendrils. The time it took for them to decelerate from warp would give him enough time to develop.
As he walked, a figure appeared ahead. He narrowed his eyes at a man in a black robe holding a wooden staff. A bad feeling welled up, and he gripped his Power Sword.
Richis Hordem, brother of the Planetary Governor, shouldn't have been on an assassination mission personally. But with the massive heretical rebellion at the northern pole, almost all assets were deployed there. Having betrayed the Emperor, they couldn't call for Imperial aid.
He spotted his target: a clean-cut man who looked like an Upper-Spire noble. "The ritual in the Hive failed because of this man..." They could have suppressed the planet's threats, but a force capable of repelling Warp demons had appeared and seized control of the Underhive in just a month. Lacking an army, they turned to assassination. A "nest of rats" always collapsed once its leader died—that was noble consensus.
Strangely, they couldn't track him through their Master's power, forced to use primitive methods.
"A bug is still a bug," Richis thought, gathering psionic energy to crush the man.
Alexei watched the motionless robed figure, confused. Suddenly, he felt a strange sensation... "Achoo!" He sneezed and looked at the man.
Richis: "?"
Alexei: "?"
The robed man raised his staff, which glowed with psionic light. Zap! Psionic lightning shot toward Alexei. He dodged instantly—a cultist.
Alexei activated his Power Sword, its blade wreathed in lethal energy. He lunged forward like a cannonball. Thanks to his growing power, his physical attributes now rivaled a standard Astartes.
A flash of light followed. Richis's staff was severed. The wind from the strike blew back his hood, revealing a demonic visage.
"Why? Why didn't the Psionic Stasis Field work..." was Richis's last thought as his vision spun, seeing his own headless body.
Thud. The head and body hit the floor. Alexei deactivated the blade.
"Was Art killed by this guy too?" Alexei looked at the corpse. He noticed a bracelet on the body and tore it off. He recognized the crest—one he had seen on Art.
"The Hordem family..." Alexei mused. Things were getting interesting.