Chapter 3: Innate Ability
Omega moved faster than human eyes could track. The Rangda Cerabvore commanders, creatures with formidable psychic abilities, fell before they could even register his attacks. To him, killing them was no different than slaughtering livestock.
A hundred thousand slave-soldiers? They couldn't make him sweat a single drop..
When he'd first arrived in this sector, Omega had even considered some grand plans to start this new life. He would carve out his own kingdom, build something worth ruling.
But reality had other ideas. His ship crashed on a lifeless rock, with no humans, and not a single trace of any civilization, not even a primitive one, nothing. His ambitions died before they could even begin.
He spent decades stranded on that barren world. Then luck finally smiled on him. He discovered the Pale Spear buried in the wreckage of an ancient spacecraft and used the ship's navigational data to locate a habitable world. Unfortunately, it turned out to be a xenos pirate stronghold.
After stealing a ship and barely escaping with his life, he discovered the entire sector was consumed by war between the Imperium of Man and the Rangda.
There was no safe haven here, only the grim darkness of the war.
For years, he drifted along interstellar trade routes, searching for somewhere peaceful to settle. The sector hadn't been Imperial territory originally; most traders were xenos, which made travel dangerous for a lone human.
Only after the first two Rangda campaigns did human Rogue Traders start appearing regularly, and that's when he heard about Balsavor. The planet had a reputation: advanced technology, strong defenses, and stability.
After suffering through the hardships of void travel, he finally reached it. He'd been ready to settle down, to learn, to master new technologies and build an actual life.
Then the Rangda invasion began.
Intelligence reports made one thing clear, the Imperium was monstrously powerful. They'd achieved countless victories against the Rangda in a war that had consumed this sector for nearly a century.
The stories about Holy Terra, the Emperor, and the legendary Astartes fascinated him. They also made him uneasy.
Explosions tore through the street behind him. Omega spun around and saw the cavalry charge, thousands of armored riders mounted on war-beasts two to three meters tall, firing heavy las-rifles as they thundered forward.
Civilians scattered in panic, but there was nowhere to run.
Omega didn't hesitate. He launched himself forward and, in moments, crossed hundreds of meters to meet the first rider.
One sweep of his spear cleaved both mount and rider in half. He became a blur of motion, appearing beside one target after another, leaving bisected bodies and blood-soaked pavement in his wake.
By the time five or six hundred cavalry lay dead, the sky lit up with energy cannon fire. Explosions hammered the area, collapsing buildings and filling the air with smoke and debris.
But the dense urban terrain gave him cover, and these airborne weapons lacked the devastating power of orbital bombardment. Omega used the chaos as camouflage, continuing his slaughter methodically.
Ten minutes later, slave-soldiers flooded into the district. Four Cerabvore commanders surveyed the carnage, humanoid figures wrapped in heavy armor and black robes, their faces squirming masses of tentacles. Each carried an ion weapon.
They didn't speak aloud. Instead, psychic pulses carried their conversation.
"The Overseer wants this human captured alive, but he's far too dangerous!"
"Only the Overseer himself could handle someone this powerful. If we can get him under mind-control, he'd be an invaluable war asset!"
"Exactly. We'll send wave after wave of slave armies to exhaust the city's defenses. Once the planet falls, capturing one warrior will be trivial!"
"Agreed. Deploy the slaves."
One of the Cerabvores suddenly went rigid, staring at something beside them.
A figure in power armor stood there, spear in hand. He hadn't been there a second ago.
"How—?" The psychic warning came too late.
The commanders scrambled to raise their weapons as a streak of light flashed through the air.
The lead Cerabvore split apart, armor and all. An ion beam lanced toward Omega's position but struck only empty space. Before the others could react, his spear cut through them in a blur of motion.
Omega flicked the ichor from his weapon and surveyed the corpses with contempt. The surrounding slave-soldiers stared in shock, then opened fire. Las-bolts converged on where he'd been standing.
He was already gone.
For the next hour, Omega turned the ruined city into a hunting ground.
He tracked down officers and commanders, killing them the moment they exposed themselves. Dozens fell to his spear. Single-handedly, he ground a million-strong invasion force to a halt.
Raw strength alone couldn't explain his effectiveness. Omega had an innate ability that made him uniquely lethal.
He could suppress his presence completely, becoming indistinguishable from an ordinary person in a crowd. It sounded simple, but the applications were devastating.
This was how he'd walked among civilians earlier without being detected, not by people, not by surveillance systems, not even by the bio-ships' psionic sensors scanning for threats.
He could get close to enemies without triggering any alarm. To them, he felt like one of their own, nothing worth noticing, until his spear struck.
Earlier, he'd stood beside those Cerabvore commanders for several minutes, listening to their psychic conversation. Only after confirming they weren't using verbal communication did he reveal himself and attack.
He called this ability "Audience."
It came with a secondary benefit: enhanced observation.
Sometimes he could perceive situations from an outside perspective, as though watching himself through someone else's eyes. Over time, this had shaped his personality: cautious, methodical, and averse to drawing attention.
The ability worked by manipulating presence. The more distinctive someone was, the stronger their presence and the more attention they drew. His power suppressed that presence entirely.
However, if his own presence grew too strong, through reputation, power, or fame, suppressing it became more difficult.
On Balsavor, Omega was the strongest person alive. But right now, protecting the city mattered more than maintaining his anonymity.
Throughout the day, human defenders watched in confusion as the Rangda army descended into chaos. Command structures collapsed. Artillery strikes hit the enemy's own slave-soldiers. Officers died under impossible circumstances.
Nobody could explain it, but the defensive lines held because of it.
That night, the core city was ablaze with light, despite the war. Aircraft filled the aerial corridors in endless streams, and street traffic flowed without pause. The city refused to stop living.
One aircraft peeled away from the high-speed lanes and descended to a mid-level landing platform on a residential tower. A figure in power armor stepped out, carrying a long spear, and walked to his apartment door.
The interior was sparse, just a sofa, table, and chairs. Omega stripped off his armor and headed straight for the shower.
Afterward, he wiped steam from the bathroom mirror and studied his reflection. Two and a half meters of solid muscle, completely bald. His arms were thicker than most men's legs. He looked exactly like what he was: a living weapon.
He grinned at himself, then returned to the living room. A red light blinked on his communicator.
He activated it.
"Boss! The planetary government is offering huge bounties for xenos kills. Want me to register us?!"
Omega started to decline, but the voice kept going.
"Finally! I was starting to think the Rangda grabbed you and slapped a control collar on your neck. Anyway, I've got interesting news from Dr. Hermo!"
[End of Chapter]