I am John, serial number 117.
I do not remember my name, nor my family, nor my home.
But I still remember that game. We played it every day. I never once lost.
That game… it is the only thing I recall from before I met Dr. Halsey. From that moment on, my life became one of endless battles.
Through thirty years of war against the Covenant… I always knew my fate.
I knew that one day I would fall on the battlefield. It was my destiny—the destiny of a warrior. And yet, it never came…
It was as if Lady Luck favored me. I do not know if that was a blessing or a curse.
Whether as a Spartan of the UNSC Spartan Operations, a regular auxiliary officer of the Sacred Selene Empire's Second Legion Astartes Punishers, Sequence Conquered World—Universe-117, or now as a specially conscripted soldier of the Imperial Inquisition's Grey Knights Chapter…
My comrades and superiors always said I would become the ideal warrior. Strong, agile, and brave. A natural leader.
Is that true? I do not know.
A new nation, new laws, a new ruler… even former mortal enemies, the Covenant Elites (Sangheili), now stand as comrades beneath the same banner.
Together, we swore allegiance to the Empress—an existence revered by humanity as a god.
It was no falsehood.
I have seen Her power, Her grandeur, Her majesty. The brilliance of the stars curls and spreads within Her palm; newborn stars pulse brightly beneath Her authority; constellations are rearranged with the turn of Her thought.
She is Creator, She is All. The myriad races of the cosmos prostrate themselves before Her radiance that sunders heaven and earth, hailing Her as Divine Empress and offering supreme authority. The lives of uncountable beings across domains and worlds lie in Her hand—their life and death by Her will.
What power this is, what will.
Sometimes, I cannot help but wonder—does She truly need our allegiance? Is She using us for some greater end?
God loves mankind?
Forgive me—I have no answer.
In the UNSC, as a soldier, my duty was to protect humanity at all costs.
In the Sacred Selene Empire, as a soldier, my duty remains to protect humanity at all costs.
That is my only answer.
…Though as an Imperial citizen and an Inquisitorial warrior, by their standards, my thoughts may already count as blasphemy and heresy.
Clatter!
Inside a Stormwolf Assault Boat, beneath the golden gaze of the Empire's double-headed eagle emblem, a silver-armored warrior slowly lifted his head. The Book of Truth adorned his pauldrons and breastplate. His silver, spindle-shaped helmet, distinct from the Astartes' standard, shimmered faintly with blue electronic light across the visor.
The deck beneath his feet trembled with the clang, clang of colliding planetary debris; the walls and hull rattled. The roar of engines and the violent jolts all told the same story—they were en route to an unknown battlefield.
Bzzz!
"Landing imminent… Hm? John, our sergeant major and great philosopher, once again pondering the meaning of battle—or of life and destiny?"
"…"
Suddenly, pale-blue streams of light coalesced. The AI servitor housed within his power armor—Cortana—manifested her form. Twisting her body playfully, she teased, "Come now, tell me. What are your thoughts?"
"…Not bad."
He turned his head. Reflected in his visor's glow was the youthful face of the AI, strikingly similar to Dr. Halsey in her younger days. Silent for a long moment, he finally forced out two words.
"Oh my, Chief. Such an answer won't satisfy anyone."
The finely detailed holographic projection perfectly manifested the features of the beautiful female AI servitor—golden-haired, blue-eyed, with Germanic traits and a graceful figure. With her hands clasped behind her back, she tilted her head slightly, her lifelike, humanlike expressions making it hard to believe she was an AI.
"..."
The tall man clad in silver heavy armor remained silent.
Whistles— ×N
His comrades, armed variously with power halberds, power swords, storm bolters, or meltaguns, joined in the teasing chorus, their low whistles rippling across the cabin. Even the calm heart of John—117 was stirred.
Perhaps it was because of Dr. Halsey. Like most Spartan-IIs, to the Master Chief, Dr. Catherine Halsey was akin to a mother.
He knew that Cortana had originally been created by Dr. Halsey. Back in Empress Selene's supraspatial network, they had met her before, and he had thought she would become one of the Empress' collected treasures.
Never did he expect to meet her again in this form, now serving as the strategic support AI for his Chapter.
"What are you all doing? You're about to enter battle—your first battle. Be serious! Check your equipment. The Inquisitors specifically requested you because you recruits already had prior experience against insectoid threats. This is an honor that every Imperial military sequence competes for."
Before the Chief could speak, Cortana's playful smile instantly straightened into a stern expression.
"If anything goes wrong, don't you dare say I was your support AI."
Cortana was the same as ever. As an AI servitor specially dispatched from on high to assist the Grey Knights, she had taken an interest in the taciturn John—117 from the moment she arrived. Whether chatting, teasing, or poking fun…
In short, across the entire Chapter, John—117 and Cortana had the best rapport. Their cooperation was also the most efficient and seamless.
The rest of the Grey Knights often felt, when subjected to Cortana's sharp tongue during training, as though they were nothing more than groceries picked up on the side. It was as if Cortana had been created solely to serve Master Chief John—117.
Otherwise… how could the difference in treatment be so vast? Why was their synchronization so absurdly high?
Clack—
Red-and-green alternating alarm lights began flashing rapidly. The giant bearing the 117 serial number on his left pauldron rose slowly to his feet.
"Cortana, calculate the landing trajectory. Scan the surrounding debris field for traces of lingering life."
"Deploy drones. I want samples of everything—remains of insectoid limbs, animals, plants, fungi… all DNA specimens."
John's voice was utterly calm. His enhanced hearing picked up clearly the steady echo of his own breathing within the helmet.
"Understood."
Cortana replied crisply. Under her control, the external cameras activated one after another.
John flexed his powerful arms, layered in triple defense and amplification: Tyrandean cellular composite titanium-alloy nanoweave underarmor, electronic muscle bundles, and the Holy Shield-pattern power armor. His physique was stronger even than Spartans enhanced through biological augmentation.
Standing over 2.8 meters tall, with superior proportions and biomechanics, two hearts and three lungs, non-human regenerative abilities and survival hibernation capacity—his skeletal strength and immense musculature far surpassed even the strongest Spartan-II. All of it encased in power armor weighing several tons.
And this was only after the second layer of enhancement…
John swiftly suppressed all unnecessary thoughts. This was not the time.
"Landing imminent. All units, prepare."
"For the Sacred Selene!" ×N
With unparalleled military discipline, the Inquisitors immediately ceased all jesting at the sound of the order, standing as still as marble statues.
"For Selene." He returned the salute.
Through the external camera feed, the assault craft slid through the wreckage of shattered worlds. Not far away, fragments of a planetary continental shelf streaked past like raindrops, causing the void shields to flicker.
Twisted biological remains drifted amid the debris, their surfaces frosted white: massive manta-shaped flyers, mantis-like beasts with huge mandibled limbs, and all manner of bizarre things—arthropod scythe-limbs, translucent dipteran wings, mammalian spines and flesh…
Clearly, this was no product of natural evolution.
John studied every image relayed from the assault craft's optics, data scrolling across his visor—precise measurements of speed and distance, uncertain estimates where readings failed.
As they approached the largest asteroid fragment locked as their target, the void grew choked with drifting, warped corpses.
"The Grey Knights Chapter's first mission—bugs, kin of the Flood, is it?" he muttered.
The fragment was nearly ten million square kilometers. Hard to imagine a hollowed continental plate, carved into hive tunnels, maintaining such vast size even after planetary collapse.
It resembled the lair of a Flood Gravemind—honeycombed caverns crammed with insect corpses mortared into walls, yellow-green slime staining the soil.
The ruptures oozed like necrotic tumors, spilling rot from diseased wounds.
The sight reminded him of hunting Flood remnants under the Punishers. The same gut-churning disgust.
The insects had died en masse to protect something. He felt it—something larger lay within.
And as an Imperial soldier, facing his first war of conquest, even one as stoic as he would not spurn the chance to seize glory.
Boom—!
Deceleration slammed through the craft, explosions and impacts roaring.
With no smooth landing zones in the asteroid field, they blasted their own path—armored hull and directional bombs carving a flat site by brute force.
Imperial ships were advanced, yes—but their methods were often crude. That was John's thought.
Hiss—!
With pressure valves releasing, the ramp dropped. Combat servitors poured from side hatches first, expanding the perimeter. At John's lead, the Grey Knights advanced, weapons raised in cautious formation.
John hefted his power halberd and strode out.
Under the dim void, their silver armor gleamed undimmed. Energy shields hummed alive along both shoulders.
"Fungal mat?"
At his feet, dark-purple biomass had frozen solid in the cold of space. Each step crunched with brittle cracks.
No need for orders—the assault craft's triple-linked plasma cannons rotated and fired.
Bzzzt—!Boom!
A searing pillar of plasma struck, boring into a wall of piled insect corpses, melting them like butter.
Rumble—!
Carcasses liquefied, yellow-green ichor spilling, white smoke hissing as it scorched and corroded stone, leaving pools of foul slime.
Even through his power armor, John could feel the hot, rancid stench against his face.
Bang! Bang-bang-bang—!
Two tactical squads of ten Inquisitors raised their storm bolters, unleashing probing volleys into the gaping maw of the hive.
After the barrage—
"Cortana. Link to the dispersed drones. Guide the path."
"Stay alert. Don't ignore any insect corpse underfoot."
Thousands of meters in, the tunnels widened. John halted, scanning the sprawling hive network. Among the filth and endless bodies lay shattered, blackened pods.
Eggs.
They had been scorched by plasma fire, ichor still trickling. Some half-formed larvae twitched weakly, hissing steam. But most striking was the sea of living eggs, quivering to the horizon.
"They're here." John raised his left-arm plasma cannon.
"Hold formation."
At once—
Buzz-buzz-buzz—!
The cavern floor writhed, buried under a tide of insects. Bloated creatures with sacs of acid, grotesque and swollen, rolled like bowling balls from every tunnel.
Expected. Either nothing, or this.
"Suicide bugs. Watch your shields."
"Advance. Find the hive mind."
Bang-bang-bang—!
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