In the pouring rain:
Nova's fingertip rested against the crystal window, the nano-combat suit's sensor array silently analyzing the glass at a molecular level.
She then signaled Stone, who responded with a subtle nod visible on his visor screen and deployed a micro-concussive device from his bracer.
A barely perceptible hum followed. Under precise frequency resonance, the crystal window disintegrated, shattering instantly like melting ice.
The four infiltrators surged into the room.
Mengsk's private quarters were cloaked in oppressive darkness. A holographic starmap slowly rotated across the ceiling, casting ominous shadows of the family crest projection onto the floor.
Yet an unusual energy ripple permeated the air—
Too quiet. Unnaturally so.
Nova's psionic senses spread like a spiderweb, detecting several high-energy signatures hidden in the shadows.
"Ambush," she said coldly over the neural link.
VMMMM—VMMMM—!
Suddenly, more than ten ghostly blue psionic blades pierced the darkness.
Long-concealed Ghost operatives emerged from the shadows, their hostile-environment suits merging perfectly with the gloom—only the flashes of their blades betraying their presence, deadly like serpent fangs.
These elite assassins had surrounded the four completely. The oppressive sensation of psionic lock-on pressed against the air like a physical weight.
"Surrender, traitors," rasped the lead Ghost operative. His pupils, visible beneath the mask, glowed a murky blue from deep neural conditioning. "The Emperor's mercy is granted only once."
"Heh."
Stone sneered, muscles beneath his nano-suit tightening slightly.
Nova, meanwhile, calmly raised her palm—
BOOOOM!!!
Brilliant golden psionic energy erupted from her hand like a supernova.
The ring-shaped shockwave of pure psionic force blasted outward. Wherever it passed, Ghost operatives were flung like broken puppets, crashing into walls, display cases, and the zerg carapace floor, bones audibly cracking.
But more lethal was the wave's disruption to their brainwashing protocols.
The fallen Ghosts clutched their heads, howling in agony as implanted memories were shredded by the golden tide.
"Protocol... breaking..."
One Ghost tore off his mask, momentarily lucid. "I remember... the children of Tarsonis..."
Nova had no time for sympathy.
Her tactical visor suddenly flared red—palace energy readings were spiking wildly.
"Self-destruct sequence!" Stone shouted.
At that exact moment, the ceiling and walls vibrated with the roar of hydraulic mechanisms.
Massive alloy blast doors crashed down like guillotine blades, sealing the entire top floor into a steel tomb.
Scarlet emergency lights flared. Amid the shrieking alarms, a mechanical female voice announced without emotion: "Purification protocol initiated. Countdown: 15 seconds."
"Mengsk planned for this all along," one former Ghost growled, scanning the sealed space. "The bastard turned the top floor into a trap!"
Nova furrowed her brow.
"14 seconds."
Stone dashed toward the nearest gate, plasma cutter extending from his arm bracer.
But the energy readings on the alloy surface made his expression darken. "Damn it, it's composite armor with a specialized coating!"
"12 seconds."
The countdown ticked like a funeral bell.
Nova suddenly dropped to one knee, pressing her palm to the zerg-carapace floor. Her psionic energy seeped into the seams like golden streams.
"Buy me five seconds," she said calmly.
Stone and the others formed a triangular defense around her, weapons trained on the struggling Ghost operatives.
Though their programming had fractured, their combat instincts were still lethal.
"8 seconds."
Nova's energy surged through the carapace floor like golden roots, stabbing into the palace's "neural network."
"3 seconds."
She clenched her fist—
KR-BOOOOM—!!!
The entire palace trembled violently. All psionic dampeners exploded in overload.
Nova seized the moment to inject pure psionic energy into their suits and, in the blink of an eye, activated a short-range group "psionic phase shift."
"One second."
RI————
As the countdown hit zero, plasma flames hot enough to vaporize battleship armor erupted from nozzles in the ceiling and walls.
BOOOOOOOOM—!!
The top floor twisted and melted under temperatures of a hundred million degrees, becoming a swelling fireball that burst through the palace dome.
The explosion's shockwave slammed into the earth like a divine hammer, shaking the palace under an orange-red mushroom cloud.
Plasma fire sprayed out in radial bursts, painting the night sky a sickly shade of orange. The circular pressure wave vaporized rainwater within a 300-meter radius into white mist.
Lead-alloy coatings on the palace's outer walls melted like wax, dripping down in molten silver mixed with fire rain, burning black holes into the garden's stone paths.
The battlefield fell into an eerie stillness.
Terran soldiers peeked from cover, the flickering firelight reflected in their CMC visors—
In the chaos of cut communications and disabled surveillance, the fireball consuming the top floor became the most devastating psychological weapon of all.
Someone was the first to drop a Gauss rifle. The clatter of metal on wet stone echoed sharply in the rain.
"Has... the Emperor fallen?" a trembling Marine sergeant asked aloud.
That question spread like a virus across the defense lines.
The soldiers deprogrammed by the Jedi were the first to cease fire, long-lost clarity finally surfacing in their bloodshot eyes.
More decisive still was the disturbance in the rear ranks. Three siege tanks suddenly rotated their turrets, aiming their 180mm cannons at the still-resisting Royal Guard.
"We've been betrayed!"
The tank commander's voice blared through external speakers. "Command knew the Human Empire had unbeatable strength—and a so-called goddess of war aiding them! That bastard... Mengsk sent us here to die for his escape!"
Chaos spread like dominoes.
A contingent of Marines in elite violet armor suddenly unlocked their weapons—shoulder plates etched with noble house crests from Korhal.
These "private troops" had clearly received new political instructions from their patrons.
Even the palace's east-wing anti-air battery halted operations. Operators silently watched red warnings blink on their control panels, exposing massive gaps in orbital defenses.
Meanwhile, four golden streaks shot through the firecloud.
Nova Terra was one of them. As she emerged mid-air and plummeted earthward, she twisted her body. Micro-thrusters unfolded from her suit's back, turning freefall into a controlled dive.
As her boots touched the wet ground, a ring of mist exploded outward, yet made no sound.
Stone and the two former Ghosts landed with equal precision.
The Royal Guard responded swiftly.
These elite troopers, marked by execution tallies on their pauldrons, instantly formed overlapping fire zones. The hydraulic hum of CMC-660 suits harmonized with the chilling hiss of dozens of charging Gauss rifles.
"For Emperor Mengsk!" the Guard Captain bellowed through the rain.
Nova needed no spoken command. A network of pure psionic resonance already linked the four operatives.
As the first supersonic flechette neared her brow—just 30 centimeters away—the entire world slowed to a surreal crawl. Raindrops floated midair, rifle muzzle flashes froze like captured lightning, and even the Guard Captain's spit under his faceplate was clearly visible.
Nova calmly stepped out from the center of the ambush.
Having received the Emperor's "blessing," her psionic level had long surpassed the prior Class-10 ceiling. Normal weapons no longer posed any threat to her.
"Kneel."
She spoke.
The voice wasn't loud, but its authority was absolute.
Golden psionic energy flared from her center, splintering into countless filaments that pierced through every soldier's helmet—into their brains.
These threads danced over cortical surfaces, probing ancient neural clusters for fear and submission.
THUD—!
One Guard's knee struck the ground, cracking the tiles. Then another, and another—
The crash of power armor hitting the ground echoed like a funereal drum.
Their fingers remained on triggers, but muscles no longer responded. Nova's golden threads had turned their steel bodies into puppets.
Stone looked at her with concern. "Maintaining psychic control at this scale—your psionic reserves..."
A bead of blood trickled from Nova's nose, spreading a pink tint in the rain.
She felt the mental strain.
These Royal Guards had far stronger wills than regular Marines—like tempered blades, constantly trying to cut through her psionic filaments.
Worse, those under control were trying to broadcast alerts to their comrades, forcing Nova to divide her focus to jam the data flows.
She gently wiped the blood from her temple.
Golden psionic patterns pulsed beneath her skin like molten gold.
"No problem," she said mechanically. "More than enough to last until the fleet arrives."
Though her tone remained calm, a flicker of unwillingness passed through her icy blue eyes—
Mengsk had still slipped through her fingers.
Stone holstered his pulse pistol. His tactical visor showed Baze's squad's live coordinates.
"A first victory. There'll be more chances." He patted her shoulder, the nano-suit humming faintly. "For now, let's send these tin cans to entertain Mr. Malbus at the front gate."
Nova nodded slightly.
With a single mental impulse, the kneeling Royal Guards stiffly rose. The CMC-660 suits groaned with misaligned servos.
Yet their synchronized, puppet-like movements were chilling. Controlled by unseen threads, they began marching toward the palace's main gate.
Meanwhile, the lowest level alloy gate slowly opened under biometric key authentication, revealing a vast underground chamber.
This sanctuary, which Mengsk called the "Doomsday Ark," was over a hundred meters high. Its vaulted ceiling was supported by a Protoss crystal matrix, with ghostly blue psionic flows flickering between prisms, bathing the space like a sunken temple.
Mengsk strode into the chamber, his boots clacking crisply on the floor.
His gaze swept over the Royal Guards stationed along the corridor—
Their shoulder plates bore the crimson "Ω" sigil, signifying their selection through dozens of psychological trials—absolute loyalists.
Each CMC-660 suit had been specially modified, giving them firepower rivaling heavy armor units.
"Your Majesty, the escape pod is fully prepped," the technical director reported, handing over a datapad. "Counter-surveillance mist now covers a five-kilometer radius."
Mengsk's eyes settled on the streamlined "vessel" in the chamber's center.
The "Phoenix" escape pod stretched over 200 meters. Its hull was made of recovered Protoss phase-cloaked armor, and its engine core combined the latest Terran and Protoss tech.
Quantum warp arrays on both flanks pulsed faintly—like the breathing of a sleeping giant.
"Execute Final Protocol," Mengsk said, pulling the biometric key from his chest pocket. Azure DNA light patterns glowed in his palm. "If my son thinks—"
His words stopped abruptly.
The unmistakable sound of charging Gauss rifles filled the chamber, dozens of them—aimed not outward, but at him.
Mengsk turned slowly.
The Ω Guards had all raised their rifles—at him.
"You—"
Two Guards suddenly lunged. Their servo systems screamed under overdrive.
One clamped his wrist, locking the biometric key with a hydraulic claw. The other tore open Mengsk's ceremonial uniform, exposing the explosive implant interface at his collarbone.
"Sorry, Your Majesty," the Ω Commander said, lifting his visor. His face was veiled in neural augmentation. "You taught us: always side with the victors."
The crystal matrix on the dome flickered violently, projecting a live feed of the palace exterior.
Emperor-class battleships of the Human Empire were breaking through the clouds, missile bays like the eyes of demons opening beneath their hulls.
Closer still, inside the chamber, a black-robed figure strolled calmly through the automatically parting Ω Guards—his blind face wearing a serene smile.
Mengsk's pupils constricted in shock.
Clearly, the Jedi Master from another universe hadn't been part of his calculations.
"You think controlling my guards means you've won?"
Mengsk suddenly chuckled darkly, his restrained right index finger twitching subtly. "Korhal's chain-reaction program was long ago—"
But the Ω Commander severed the detonator circuit at Mengsk's collarbone. Blood shimmered purple under the crystal-blue light.
"We know your plan, Your Majesty," the manipulated commander said, voice grating like rusted gears. "Including the fission mines buried beneath Korhal's surface."
At that moment, the escape pod's hatch opened—not to reveal engineers, but two Jedi in black robes.
Their lightsabers remained dormant, yet the Force surrounding them warped the air itself.
"Game's over, tyrant," Chirrut Îmwe's voice echoed through the chamber, distant yet all-encompassing. "You will face the 'justice' of the Human Empire."
(End of Chapter)
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