The giants, each over two and a half meters tall, stood drenched in blood. Fragments of Dominion soldiers still clung to their Titan armor, and the smoke from their bolters had yet to clear.
The civilians at the front instinctively stepped back. A few children broke into terrified sobs.
The Salamander squad leader immediately sensed the spread of fear.
He did something none of the civilians expected—
The commander holstered his bolter on the magnetic lock at his thigh and raised both armored hands in a non-threatening gesture as he slowly stepped back.
The other five Astartes instantly followed suit, mimicking this standard position of de-escalation. They deliberately softened the sound of their mag-booted steps and retreated to the sides of the corridor to clear the path.
At the same time, Mike adjusted the broadcast frequency, and the public address system of the spaceport rang out once more:
"Attention, all civilians. These giants are our allies. I repeat: the Astartes are friendly forces here to assist in the evacuation. Do not believe the Terran Dominion's propaganda. The Astartes before you will not harm you."
The message echoed through the spaceport.
A woman holding an infant was the first to stop. She stared trembling at the nearest Salamander.
When she saw the giant even lower his head slightly, avoiding direct eye contact with the baby in her arms, she suddenly said:
"They really... aren't like those beasts…"
The words were like a magic spell lifted.
The crowd began to move again, and this time, some even nodded respectfully toward the Astartes.
"Civilians first! Stop those overdressed scumbags!" Mike's sharp voice suddenly blared from the speakers.
Dozens of well-dressed men and women were trying to sneak into the crowd. One middle-aged man with a chest badge and slicked-back hair had even shoved a pregnant woman aside. Clearly, they were elites—family members of officers and local dignitaries.
A nearby Salamander instantly stepped forward, grabbing the man by the collar. He deliberately applied minimal force, careful not to tear the man in half.
"What are you doing?! Let go of me!"
The Astartes ignored the screams and casually set the man down in a holding area.
Then, with a voice like grinding metal, he issued a warning:
"Wait here. You will board last. Disobey, and you die."
Other members of the elite class tried to argue—until one Astartes crushed a steel turnstile gate with his bare hand in a clear display.
At that, all the privileged elites went quiet like quails. A noblewoman's pearl necklace even snapped from fright, beads scattering across the floor.
"Hahaha! Look at these 'fine gentlemen!'"
A boisterous voice rang out from the spaceport entrance.
Tychus strode in, cigar stub clenched between his teeth. Smoke still curled from the barrel of his rotary cannon.
Behind him came Jim Raynor, clad in his signature power armor. His Raiders followed, armor battered but spirits high.
But when they saw the scene inside the spaceport, the entire group froze.
Beyond the evacuating civilians, they saw the six Salamanders standing among at least a hundred Dominion soldier corpses—and acting as if nothing unusual had occurred, calmly helping manage the evacuation.
One was even kneeling, holding out his palm to return a fallen stuffed toy to a little girl.
Tychus approached a Dominion heavy trooper's body and nudged aside the perforated chest plate with his boot, muttering:
"This guy's armor didn't even slow it down… Damn."
He knelt, running a rough finger along the bowl-sized hole in the plating, its edges scorched from extreme heat.
Such firepower was beyond even the Raiders' elite anti-armor squads unless using armor-piercing rocket volleys.
Yet nearly all the corpses here had been killed instantly.
Bolter rounds had torn through the toughest armor—or the softest skulls—leaving no chance to resist.
The Raiders whispered among themselves, eyes darting between the Salamanders and the piles of corpses.
A young soldier started mimicking an Astartes' height—only to get smacked in the back of the head by a veteran.
"Cut that out! You want to piss off those giants?!"
Jim Raynor took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.
Sure, the Raiders could beat enemies several times their number—but not like this.
Six men. Zero casualties. A hundred elite Dominion soldiers wiped out in under five minutes.
No artillery support, no tactical maneuvers—just brute-force dominance. The Dominion's propaganda often painted enemies as monsters to stoke fear and divert attention—but this time, the Dominion hadn't lied.
"Boss…" a Raider whispered, barely audible. "If these guys were enemies, should we just start writing our wills now?"
Raynor didn't reply. He narrowed his eyes, turning to Leon and Mike, who had just exited the command center.
Neither bore a scratch. It was as if the battle had been a walk in the park.
Mike clapped his hands and called out, "Alright, folks. The civilians are aboard. Next—"
He was interrupted by a low, deep rumble from above.
Everyone looked up to see a convoy of transports, escorted by fighters, piercing through the clouds and descending into the spaceport.
Their sleek shapes, dark green paint, and unfamiliar insignia clearly showed they were neither Dominion nor Raider vessels.
"What is that?" Raynor frowned.
"Our transport fleet," Leon answered briefly. "They'll escort the civilians out."
As orders were given, the previously loaded civilian shuttles began taking off, flying skyward under escort.
Next, several massive Luna-class transports opened their cargo bays, revealing the cold lighting within.
Leon turned to Raynor, his tone calm.
"Commander Raynor, you and your Raiders are welcome to join us in escorting the civilians to the dimensional gate."
He paused before adding, "And you'll get to see what that 'gate' really is."
Raynor's brow furrowed deeply.
He knew this kind of 'invitation' too well—once accepted, there was no turning back.
But on the other hand, he didn't want this alliance to end. The Raiders needed allies—especially ones who could crush the Dominion and still treat civilians with dignity.
Tychus chimed in, smoke curling from his cigar and mischief in his tone. "What's wrong, Little Jimmy? You scared?"
Raynor ignored the jab and finally nodded. "Fine. I'll see what kind of game you're playing."
Orders spread quickly. The Raiders holstered their weapons and began boarding in order.
Assault vehicles and siege tanks were secured in the Luna transports' cargo holds. The Salamanders stood silent by the hatches like statues, their visor lights flickering as they silently evaluated their new allies.
As the last Raider stepped aboard, the hatches sealed shut.
With a roar of engines, the Luna transports and Thunderhawks took off, leaving trails of white fire in the sky.
The fleet pierced the atmosphere, entering low orbit. Outside the portholes, the black void of space and twinkling stars left many of the Raiders breathless.
They'd flown through space before—but this felt different. It was as if some invisible force was drawing them toward an unknown destiny.
Soon, the transports adjusted course and reentered the atmosphere.
When Jim Raynor looked down through the window, all he saw was desert and wasteland.
But due to a certain "special girlfriend," the Ranger commander had developed a faint psionic intuition. And that intuition screamed that something was off down there—a hazy mist covered the entire region, as if cloaked by a force field.
"What the hell…?" Raynor frowned, tapping the window.
Mike's voice came over the comms with a light chuckle: "Patience, partner. Just a few more seconds."
As soon as he finished speaking, the transport pierced through a shimmering veil—
And instantly, a massive military base unfolded like a painting beneath them, along with the skeleton of a new city.
Modular metal buildings arranged in precise formations, towering alloy frameworks supporting massive structures nearing completion, and automated machines darting between sites like busy ants.
But none of this held the Raiders' attention. Their eyes were locked on the colossal structure at the center of the base.
A gigantic dimensional gate, stretching into the sky.
Golden energy veins pulsed across its frame. At its center, a mirror-like surface rippled like mercury—steady, ancient, eternal.
Its glow wasn't blinding, but it carried an unearthly quality that bent the laws of physics itself—light warped along its surface.
"This can't be real…" a Raider muttered.
The transport began to circle, letting everyone get a full view of the gate.
They saw magnetic lev-trains and other transports entering and exiting through the gate, yet nothing existed on the far side.
No space station. No docking arm. Just pure void.
Those vehicles seemed to appear from nowhere—defying everything they knew about space travel.
Tychus' expression froze completely.
The cigar stub in his mouth had fallen to the floor without him realizing it. His fingers clenched the rotary cannon instinctively.
As a seasoned warhound, Tychus knew what this technology meant—
It was far beyond the reach of humanity in the Koprulu sector. Maybe even beyond the limits of all human technology.
Raynor inhaled sharply, turning to Leon. "Everything you said… was true."
Leon simply nodded, saying nothing more.
The truth stood undeniable. No one would build something this massive just to trick a band of Raiders.
But sweat trickled down Tychus' back.
He instinctively reached to activate his hidden comms, trying to contact Arcturus Mengsk.
But when he pressed the button—only silence answered.
Comm link dead?
Tychus' pupils contracted violently.
He knew Mengsk well—if a "pawn" fell out of control, Mengsk's first move would be to remotely detonate the prison suit, ensuring no secrets escaped.
So why was he still alive?
What Tychus didn't know was that the dimensional gate emitted a shielding field that completely blocked all "unauthorized" external signals.
Mengsk's control protocols in the armor had also been cut off. For now, the suit was just a normal power armor—no longer a remote-triggered death trap.
But once Tychus left the field and the signal reconnected, the result would be fatal.
"Prepare for landing."
The pilot's voice broke Tychus from his thoughts.
The transport slowly touched down on the base's landing platform.
As the hatch opened, a cool breeze swept into the cabin.
Raynor stepped out first, but his eyes remained locked on the distant dimensional gate.
"Let's go," Leon said as he passed him. "It's time you saw what humanity's future really looks like."
As the group disembarked, they saw several civilian transports descending into the city's resettlement zone.
Under the towering alloy domes, automated med-bays and supply stations were already in place.
In the distance, squads of clone troopers in black heavy armor marched in perfect formation.
And more chilling still—skeletal Terminators, war machines whose every step made the ground tremble. Their glowing red optics seemed to freeze the very air they passed.
The Raiders instinctively cleared a path. A young soldier gripped his rifle until a comrade placed a calming hand on his shoulder.
Just then, a magnetic train bearing the olive branch insignia arrived. As the doors slid open, brilliant golden light flooded out.
All eyes turned—and saw Athena, Victory Spear in hand, leading a hundred Greek demigods.
Her very presence radiated divine power, pressing on every nerve.
As her gaze passed over the Raiders, at least half of them felt their knees weaken—an instinctive reverence buried deep in human DNA for the divine.
Mike stepped forward and offered an explanation.
"Everyone, that's Pallas Athena—goddess of war and wisdom from Olympus. And now, one of the Human Empire's most loyal allies."
He added, "No need to kneel. But best show respect."
Tychus, however, looked like he had just swallowed an entire Zerg.
His mouth opened, then closed—and all he could manage was a hushed curse:
"Shit."
But though he muttered under his breath, it instantly caught Athena's attention.
As the group arrived at the Intelligence Division's command center, Leon abruptly stopped and turned to face Tychus.
It was not a request—but a verdict.
"Now, let's talk about your issue, Mr. Arcturus Mengsk's spy."
The air turned to stone.
The Raiders took half a step back in unison. Tychus stood still, brows furrowed.
"No lie can survive here."
At that moment, Athena appeared silently behind him, golden radiance blooming around her.
The light enveloped them in a shimmering veil, her voice tolling like a divine bell:
"Speak the truth, mortal."
(End of Chapter)
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