Cleveland, Ohio

Ruwan Ackerson watched dozens of stars bloom in the noon-time sky. He couldn't believe that the Covenant had reached Earth. For the longest time, he believed that the scale of the alien's attack on humanity was exaggerated as an attempt to justify the militant nature of the UNSC. 'They were supposed to be a boogeyman so the Military-Industrial Complex could keep getting a government handout.'

An ancient conspiracy theory regarding the military-industrial complex was far more comforting than the truth.

The truth was that the universe was not a welcoming reality full of wonder and discovery. It was a nightmarish and twisted realm of unyielding conflict for the most basic of all rights: the right to simply live. Ruwan came to that sobering and crushing realization as he watched a mournful red comet streak across the horizon.

"How many people were aboard that?" Ruwan mused out loud. He took a drag of his cigarette as he desperately tried to ignore the fact that several million people had likely died while he was drinking his beer and smoking.

He felt like a complete asshole.

His cell rang and drew him out of his slightly sloshed wallowing. 'Jimmy? What the heck are you doing calling me in the middle of a war?'

"Bro?"

The line was full of static and distant rumbling thunder that could only be explosions. "Ruwan, this'll be the last time we'll talk. I know I haven't called since Christmas in '49, but…"

"The War," Ruwan finished. "I never imagined it was…like this…"

There was a hideous growling sound in the line. "Worse, actually. Look…I just wanted to let you know that you were always the only family I ever gave a rat's ass about."

"Yeah," Ruwan couldn't believe he was listening to his older brother's deathbed confession. "Remember those games we played about the Key of Osanalan?"

"T-That's actually why I'm calling," Ruwan could tell James was talking out of his ass, but there was likely a reason for that. The Covenant might be listening or some military shit like that. "You know how important it is. The Array won't activate without it."

"No shit," Ruwan's response was more of a sarcastic question, but he figured aliens had no concept of sarcasm.

"I'm going to miss you, Ruwan. Keep the Key safe. There's a Covenant Assault Carrier above my location. I plan on going out swinging."

Ruwan half-laughed, half-cried at the realization that his brother was well and truly dead. "Like that one time, where we were overrun by Orcs and you decided to charge the Warchief just so you could kick it in the balls before you died?"

"Just like that one time. Let's see if I can kick a few Covenant bastards in the nuts before I die."

The line went dead and the truth of War dawned on Ruwan Ackerson.

Cairo Station

"Void Shields holding!" An UNSC officer shouted.

Another officer attempted to channel one of the Adeptus Mechanicus priests of the Imperium of Man and whispered to the console in front of him. He spoke after a moment of interference passed. "The Covenant is using Destroyers and CRS-class cruisers to shield their landings!"

"Battlegroup three," Lord Hood barked into an Imperial vox. "I need you at point Five-sixteen-three! Covenant ships are pushing through the gap left by the destruction of Athens and Malta stations."

"This is Ca'ma'dyr Ta'my of the Muso ke Nete, confirmed Lord Admiral. In the name of the Mimo Olori, we will carry out your orders!"

Lord Hood acknowledged the Imperial Commander. He was grateful that the AI of Cairo Station had a translation list for the myriad Imperial ranks and titles.

"I need to know what the situation is on the surface! Where are the Covenant forces focusing on?"

An officer cried out over the reverberations of the apocalypse. "Primary Covenant landings are in East Africa. Secondary landings in Central North America, and Southeast Asia."

"Southeast Asia? What could the Covenant be after there?"

Sydney, Australia

The roar of F-99 Wombat UCAVs filled the air. War had come to Terra. It was not the first terrible conflict to scar the cradle of the Human race. It would not be the last.

This war possessed a singular quality due to its sheer naked desperation.

If the UNSC and Imperium of Man could not hold the line, it would signal the end of humanity as a species.

'If we fall, so too will reality,' the ancient and enigmatic embodiment of Humanity's psychic potential mused. The man known by many names throughout history, but currently Behar Tzavaras to the UNSC/UEG, The Emperor to the Imperium of Man, and the Anathema to the creeping horrors that lurked beyond the fragile veil of reality, had reached out and found the Warp oddly uniform.

There was only Chaos.

No other unified psychic signatures cried out among the currents of the Immaterium. The songs of the Eldar, the K'aiol, the Orks, and dozens of other species were either being drowned out by the Dark Gods or worse had been wiped out. The Emperor was unsure which possibility was more troubling; that the Forerunners had never restored them or that Chaos had claimed them. The Orks and Eldar were likely not restored by the Forerunners…if the ancient aliens had even encountered their far more ancient forebears.

The absence of Humanity's all too ancient and future enemies would complicate and simplify Behar's long-term plans.

For one, the lack of Ork WAAAGHs! would permit humanity to recover from the Covenant War, focus more military assets against the Great Enemy, and claim far more worlds than in the Time of the Imperium.

That was a ponderance for a later time.

His focus was needed here and now. The Once and Future Emperor felt the psychic wake of several hundred alien minds before the proximity alarms began their lamentations.

"Covenant cruisers heading for our location! Onagers can't hold off that many!" A panicked officer of the UNSC Army cried out.

In a voice of calming waters, Behar declared, "I can." It was barely a whisper, but all were awed by the power of the declaration and the truly incomprehensible amount of psychic might behind it.

Several of the Imperial officers dropped to their knees and began to pray. Instinctively, Behar nodded to acknowledge them as he left the command complex. Leagues away, half-a-dozen Onagers were allowing their Machine Spirits to vent their hate and rage at the Covenant. The rage was noble and sharply honed, but it was not enough. Behar extended his Sight and observed the six CRS-class approaching Sydney.

'The Covenant Shipmaster is skilled. He is minimizing exposure to the primary batteries by shielding his raiding flotilla with Sydney's Space Elevator.'

There were eighteen million, six-hundred and fifty-three thousand, seven hundred and twenty-two civilians living in Sydney. It was an affront to Behar's primary reason for existence to brook any threat to a single human life. The Shamanistic Soul Collective that formed the core of his being burned with purpose as he felt the psychic resonance of each and every human soul in Sydney.

A single whisper traveled through the Warp. It materialized in the midst of the Covenant vessels. The point of thought was physically the size of a human fist clenched in defiance of fate. Behar's tear in reality lashed out with tendrils of Mankind's anger and determination to stand against the Covenant. One CRS was bisected instantly by the rays of golden light. Two others burnt to ash as they passed close to the psychic phenomenon. One vessel's main reactor simply ceased to exist. The mighty vessel lost all control and plummeted into the waters of the Pacific Ocean. Another simply exploded under the weight of Behar's psychic onslaught.

The explosion doomed the final vessel to the worst fate of all. Humanity's Rage passed through the Covenant CRS-class and dragged the ship into the Warp. There, the Covenant crew was doomed to an eternity facing the retribution of humanity.

"This work is done. The Great Works continues."

Only silence responded to the Emperor's decree.

Refugee Convoy fleeing Atlanta Georgia

The Covenant had hit the Atlanta Spaceport hard. Refugees scattered to the four winds as the UNSC Army and local militias tried to hold the city proper. One of the largest convoys was heading north along Interstate 85 towards an Adeptus Mechanicus modular base in the sprawling industrial complexes of Spartanburg.

A great cheer erupted from some of civilians as the vast residential and commercial districts of Greenville became visible. Imperial and UNSC troops had turned the twin city of Industrial Spartanburg into the front lines. Astra Militarum modular facilities and UNSC Firebases were a marked contrast from the civilian architecture. Marine Corps Turreted Towers towered over the squat Heavy Bolter or Krak Missile turrets of the Imperial Guard. The crab-like Onager Walkers of the Adeptus Mechanicus stalked amongst the various structures.

Despite the civilians' relief, the surviving soldiers kept their eyes skyward. The Imperial and UNSC navies were fighting tooth and nail, but the numbers of the Covenant were telling.

It was only a matter of time before the Covenant launched an assault on the major facilities in the Carolina Upstate.

Captain Multrey of the 6th Company of the Astra Militarum's 19th Yeyton Mech frowned as he exited his autocannon-equipped Chimera. 'This location is too valuable to serve as a refugee center. The xenos scum won't pass up an opportunity to attack such an enticing target.'

"Captain!" A UNSC soldier called out. "Major Watson has requested you in the Command Center."

The Captain nodded and followed the soldier. A flash of red in the distance distracted the Imperial Captain. The Imperium, by order of the God-Emperor Himself, was unleashing the full weight of its arcane sciences. That flash could have been anything from a Super-heavy tank to a Leviathan Command Vehicle, to a Knight.

Any of those engines of destruction would be most welcome in defending the Spartanburg Manufactorums.

Major Watson rose to his feet as Captain Multrey entered the small command tent. Multrey was a learned man, as befitting the son of a minor Hive Noble, and recognized that in the UNSC Command Structure Major's outranked Captains. He saluted sharply, which was returned by the UNSC officer. As a sign of mutual respect, Watson extended his hand. The Imperial gripped it firmly and shook the offerred hand. The gesture may have appeared small, but from a noble to a non-noble, it was a significant step.

"My company is prepared to assist in the defense of this facility," Multrey said crisply.

"We're grateful, Captain." Watson crossed his arms. "Command wants to lure the Covenant here. Word is the 'Mechanicus' and their Skitari have something cooked up for anything smaller than a CCS the Covenant might send our way."

"The Mechanicus is unleashing archeo-tech I have never seen in my service to the God-Emperor and all Mankind."

The UNSC Major nodded. "We'll need everything we can get. I'll come back from the dead as an angry ghost if it meant driving the Covenant from our Homeworld."

"This is Terra! My entire life, I dreamed of a Pilgrimage and the privilege to walk its sacred soil. My company will fight to the last round and the last drop of blood. Our fists will break upon a xenos skull before our spirits crack!"

"Amen," Watson echoed. "Speaking of spirits, your name will help. Moultrie has a lot of history in these parts."

History of Terra was something to be celebrated. Knowledge of the ancient days of the most sacred world in the universe was something to be jealously hoarded.

"What kind of history?"

"Military. He was a Colonel in 'The American Revolution' nearly a thousand years ago. Won a huge defensive battle. Here's hoping for a repeat."

The rest of the meeting proceeded quickly as the finer details of defending the industrial complex were worked out.

"Commend your souls to the Emperor, the Gods of the allowed faiths, and the Machine-Spirits of your loyal Wargear to the Omnissiah!"

The near-silence that followed the announcement from the Astra Militarum's forward scouts was the worst part. Only the sounds of engines filled the air. Human engines snarled and growled like beasts cornered by a predator.

Thirty years of genocidal war had rendered humanity incapable of recognizing the elegance in the gentle curves of the Covenant vessels. Instead of an almost artistic design, Homo Sapiens saw a hideous predatory abomination.

"All units," Major Watson said over the most secure channel. "They are preparing to drop an assault force. There will be a three second period where their shields will be in flux as they activate the gravity lift."

"Cognitors are substantiating your observation," the dry and all-too-flat voice of the Adeptus Mechanicus military leader added. "Optimal targeting formulae established."

The ray-like vessel slid into position and the moment arrived. "The moment is nigh!"

An anonymous soldier's proclamation heralded the launch of a single rocket. The speed and proximity of the launch site prevented even the Covenant's AI from reacting to the incoming threat. A second sun bloomed dozens of miles to the Southwest. Spartanburg's factories, military positions, and cowering civilians were buffeted by a wind of searing heat. Several UNSC AIs reported that the small town of Roebuck had been simply erased by the blast.

In a miracle for the Covenant, the small cruiser's speed and shields had allowed it to survive a direct impact from a Death Strike missile. The force of the explosion and the craft's own forward momentum had nearly caused it to crash into the ground. It was a mere 180 meters above the ground.

"Praise the Omnissiah. Onager Dunecrawlers, unleash the wrath of your Neutron Lasers."

Twenty Neutron Lasers erupted from various locations across the defensive line. The powerful weapons tore wicked wounds into the already crippled alien vessel. Minor explosions dotted the warped hull. Major Watson and Captain Multrey felt satisfaction as the cruiser plowed into an evacuated region surrounding Highway 29.

It died quickly.

There were two more cruisers on their way.

La Spezia, Italy: Ultramarines Command Center

Captain Ixion stared at the defenses of the UNSC military base that the Ultramarines had named as their Command Center. Lord Macragge had possessed the foresight to assign two of the Chapter's Stormraven Gunships to the effort to purify the UNSC's galaxy of its infestation of the Emperor's enemies. Ixion had put the aircraft to good use deploying Tactical Squad Horatio to the Holy Sites of Jerusalem. The Word Bearers, one of the Chapter's most hated and ancient foes, would no doubt attempt to defile the numerous religious centers of that ancient city.

"Brother-Captain," Sergeant Marius of the 9th Company's fifth Squad approached the Captain of the Seventh. "The Navy has slowed, but cannot stop the xenos Covenant from launching a full Planetstrike."

Ixion appraised the situation with all the clinical efficiency that had defined the Ultramarines since the glories of the Great Crusade. The hateful xenos were dedicating an unusual amount of their forces to East Africa, Southeast Asia, and Central North America. The political centers of Sydney, Australia and Geneva, Switzerland were secondary targets.

The Captain of the Ultramarines quickly pieced together the skeleton of the Covenant's plan.

"It is not the Covenant's intention to occupy Terra. They have other objectives. The Forerunner structure at the heart of Mombasa's ruins is the key to the totality of this War. Contact our brethren in the Imperial Fists and offer our assistance if required."

"Brother-Captain…you said War," Veteran Sergeant Marius repeated.

The captain flexed the fingers of his power fist. "Yes, brother…War. All will be decided in Mombasa."

Onyx

Colonel Gregor val Treval considered his current task the purest form of worship one could offer the God-Emperor of Mankind. The Imperium, and this UNSC was part of the Imperium in the Colonel's mind, could not just be saved by winning a few cataclysmic battles. The whole of the human race must be defended and preserved. Currently, the UNSC facility known as "The Orphanage" was in desperate need of relief…or vengeance.

It was known that one of the Celestial Lions' Drop Pods made planetfall near the Orphanage, but there had been too much Traitor Vox Jamming to get a clear picture of the battle.

Sound was a completely different matter.

The air was filled with the unyielding din of combat. Imperial and UNSC aircraft roared in the sky as they hunted down and overwhelmed the few remaining Chaos Heldrakes and the more numerous Hell Talons of the traitors.

"Get us to the objective!" Colonel val Treval bellowed at his driver. The 9th Andraste Templars were primarily a Grenadier Foot Regiment, but they had a limited number of Taurox APCs. Now, the command company was pushing them to the limits to reach the most strategic location in this battle sector.

"A…UNSC or Im-Imperial Forces in Grid Five-Alpha Three Golf…as…urgently…Chaos…"

"Isolate that signal!" val Treval bellowed again. He was not a subtle man and was known to have a single selfish desire. The Colonel wished to be a father. As such, he had a soft spot…a weakness…for protecting children.

It was why the Emperor had decreed his presence on Onyx. As a loyal citizen of the Imperium, Gregor had been completely submerged and indoctrinated in the Imperial Cult since conception. The Colonel, and the regiment, would never question a command from their Emperor…and their God.

The Astra Militarum regiment took after their commanding officer. Their place was here on Onyx.

At least that was the public reasoning. The Emperor knew that the Word Bearers were coming with their accursed allies. Chaos would exploit Gregor val Treval's noble sentimentality. The Imperium of the Forty-First Millennium did not have the luxury of selectively deploying forces. The threats were too numerous, too pressing, for such indulgences to be allowed. Here, the nascent unification of the UNSC and Imperium could be slightly more discerning.

This knowledge was hidden and obscured from the regiment.

Here, the innate nobility of the regiment could be used for the greatest good of the human race. The Grenadiers were fighting with tenacity and valor. Even the distrustful Celestial Lions were gaining a modicum of respect for the mortals.

They possessed a truly laudable unreasoning, unrelenting, and unending hatred of traitors.

Hatred gave the unit purpose and drive. The Andraste Templars reached their objectives before even the most optimistic projections. Hate was truly a tool of the righteous.

The humans respected the purity of purpose provided by their uncompromising and close-minded hatred. In their indoctrinated minds, it was a sign of the Emperor's favor.

If the soldiers of the Astra Militarum were blessed with a potent hatred, then the formerly golden construct charging out the explosion of a fallen Leman Russ's Battle Cannon shot was the incarnation of such virtues. The Imperial war machine was rent and torn, but it roared in defiance. In hate.

The charge was a thing of beauty and sanctity.

Melta weapons were part of the Imperium's 'Holy Trinity' of weapons. It was rare for Colonel val Treval to witness the melta perform its glorious work as ordained by the Emperor in his Aspect as the Machine God. The cone of atomic rage scythed through tainted armor and the heretical filth residing within was purged to the sub-atomic level.

"I will die when the Emperor wills it!" The Celestial Lion roared. Val Treval could clearly see the heraldry remaining visible in holy defiance of the heretical assault.

"Sir! Traitor platoon advancing from Point O-Ten!" Veteran Sergeant Niel bellowed.

"Why aren't you firing?" the Colonel snapped. "This is a war of annihilation! There is only one order worth remembering! Attack! Attack! Attack!"

There was no response with words. There was only the crack of ionized air and the thunderous retort of autocannons. Imperial return fire reaped a bloody harvest. An entire squad-sized formation of Chaos Cultists disappeared under withering cannonade from the Taurox APCs.

The 'Orphanage' facility was not silent in the face of the latest attack. Autogun and frag missile fire purged another squad. The final grouping wavered.

"See the folly of an open mind!"

In an instant, the battered but unbroken Celestial Lion was upon the cowed cultists. Few things were as faith-affirming as witnessing heretics being smote by the wrath of the faithful.

"Guardsmen of the Imperium! In the name of the Celestial Lions and the Emperor of Mankind, I acknowledge and honor your support. I am Illiam, formerly Captain of the Fourth Company, and we have much to discuss."

Reverently, the soldiers of the Astra Militarum emerged from their transports. Colonel Gregor val Treval bowed in respect for the Space Marine. It was a natural reaction, for did the blood of the Emperor Himself not flow in the Space Marine's veins?

"How may we carry out the Emperor's Will?"

"Fortify this position. My Aspirants require relief. They are still mortal and require rest."

"Of course, Lord Astartes," Colonel val Treval responded crisply. His soldiers performed their task adequately in the eyes of the exacting Dreadnought.

Confident his orders were followed and that the tide of traitorous filth was ebbing on this front, Illiam strode towards the Orphanage's entrance. The doors yawned wide and a small group of Aspirants emerged. There were four older aspirants wearing woefully inadequate combat armor. They were likely barely into their second decade of existence. Illiam was…unprepared…for the youth of the second larger group.

'Even the Chapter does not recruit such youths,' Illiam thought.

"Thank you, sir," the female SPARTAN Aspirant spoke first. Fatigue was evident in her voice, but pride, determination, and adrenaline overpowered it. She refused to submit to any foe. Illiam thought it admirable.

"We would have been overrun without you. You saved our lives…you made a big sacrifice for us. We'll repay you. We promise."

Illiam recognized the boy as Gregory. He spoke with the same determination as the girl, Miranda, demonstrated. The Dreadnought quickly noted the boy's potential. Khaba needed to be made aware of this Aspirant.

"You all have learned well in the fires of war," Illiam praised. "Now, it is time for my second lesson. I am a Space Marine interred in the Sarcophagus of Dreadnought. My every moment is sacrifice for Mankind. It has been this way since I walked and fought as you do…as Aspirants. This is what it means to be a Space Marine…"

He paused and, for the first time of his long life of service perhaps, felt a stirring of an unusual emotion. He could not place it…was it regret, confusion…pity? The Ancient could not be sure, but he felt the emotion. He knew that the females would never truly join the ranks of the Chapter, despite wishing within their heart of hearts for it to be true.

"To be a SPARTAN," Illiam added before continuing. "Tell me of your sacrifice…and I will tell you how it will forge and hone you into the sword that holds the terrors of this benighted galaxy at bay."

The Aspirants continued to exceed Illiam's expectations. A child, barely capable of wielding the autopistol cradled in his arms, stepped forward. "My name is Iago Martinez. The aliens…killed my family…killed my world. I hate them for taking everything away from me."

To the shock of the SPARTAN trainees, they saw Illiam for the first time. Through a hole rent in his ancient armor, the watched as the nearly mummifed head of the Space Marine shook to correct Iago.

"A man who has nothing can still give his life. You have much, child. You have your hate…you have your honor…more than that. Above all that…you have your brothers," There was a pause. "Your…sisters…And you have The Chapter."

Tsavo West National Park

"…found him! Holy shit, I'm still picking up life signs!"

The sound rang in Master Chief's head. At the periphery of his foggy perception, the memory-ghost of Cortana snidely commented, "You always did know how to make an entrance, you lucky…lucky soldier."

"Chief! You still in one piece in there?" The familiar drawl of Sergeant Avery Johnson chased the gloom of Cortana's absence away.

"Affirmative, sir." Chief attempted to move, but his suit was locked up.

A soldier ran up and put a hand on the SPARTAN's shoulder. "You're in lock down."

"Corpsman, tend to the biological components," a hollow and distant voice entered the conversation as smoothly, yet mechanically as a cog. "I will commune with the Machine Spirt residing in the SPARTAN's armor…"

Chief recognized the member of the Adeptus Mechanicus. The recognition wasn't personal, but there was no mistaking which branch of the Imperium the cyborg belonged to. The Mechandrites quickly did their work. John-117 had only seen this level of clinical efficiency with the mechanical in Covenant Engineers. In only a few moments, the Techpriest had ended his armor's lock-down, and seen to the short that occasionally reared its ugly head in his motion sensor, and double-checked the armor's firmware.

As…unsettling…as the Tech-priests appeared, it was hard to fault their affinity with machines.

Sergeant Johnson extended his hand, which was readily accepted by the super soldier. "Good to have you back."

"Thank you sir," the Spartan replied. "What is the situation?"

"Tense," Avery admitted after a few moments. "Word from the fleet is that the situation in space is a clusterfuck. Covenant numbers are too big to stop."

John-117 nodded. He had been right in the middle of the 'clusterfuck'. The battle raging in the Sol System made the Fall of Reach look like a grade-school slap fight. He had personally heard reports that the entire 'Sixty-seventh Battlegroup of Solemn Propriety' had been obliterated by a trio of Imperial Grand Cruisers backed by a dozen of the UNSC's Marathon-class Cruisers.

"On the ground, sir?" Chief questioned.

Avery smiled wickedly. "Oh, we're giving the Uglies hell for every centimeter they step on our homeworld. Captain Thomas and his Imperial Fists have turned Voi and four other cities in Africa into fortresses. The Imps have Voi wrapped up tighter than Prom Night. The Covenant has tried four times to take Voi and we've beaten them back each time. Right before you dropped in, the Covenant brought in a CRS to crack the defenses," Avery paused and nodded at the Techpriest. "Our Mechanicus buddies played an Ace in the Hole. Revealed something called an 'Ordinatus'. You think a Scarab's Main Plasma canon is a big gun? Wait till you see this old lady. She's large, in charge, and oh-so experienced in fucking up aliens. I may be in love."

The Techpriest bristled at the crude description of one of the Omnissiah's Holy Mysteries. "Ordinatus Medusa is a sacred instrument of the Ominissiah's Divine Will! It demands respect and reverence!"

Johnson rolled his eyes. "We've got work to do. After we collected you, we were ordered to hit the Covenant wherever possible to relieve some pressure on Voi."

"I thought you said the Imperial Fists had Voi fortified. They are holding," Chief said as the Techpriest retrieved a weapon from a tortured-looking hybrid of man and machine. The unfornate being was clearly only vaguely aware of its surrounding. The Techpriest almost tenderly carried a weapon back to the Master Chief.

"The Astartes have indeed built a fortress blessed by the Emperor and the Omnissiah. The might of the Ordinatus Medusa has rendered the approach to Mombasa unassailable. Now, Master Chief Petty Officer, designation John-117…the Adeptus Mechanicus wishes to honor your castigation of the xenos Engine with this consecrated weapon."

The weapon was superficially similar to the lasguns carried by almost every Imperial Guardsmen John had seen. However, this rifle seemed more robust and had no visible magazine-like power pack. There was a semi-armored cable that extended from the port behind the gun's pistol grip. Overall, it had the appearance of a bullpup rifle similar to the UNSC's Battle Rifle.

Though, knowing the Imperium, it was excessively powerful and brutally desctructive.

Perfect for the meat grinder battle raging across Humanity's Homeworld.

"Thanks," Chief said with rare uncertainty. He was not used to receiving gifts. Furthermore, he honestly had no clue what rank the hunched back heavily-augmented Cyborg fit in the unified command structure the UNSC and Imperium had established.

The weapon's cable fit tightly into one of the ports in John's MJOLNIR armor. There was a moment of odd…'white' noise…as the weapon interfaced. However, it passed and the new weapon was ready to fire. Unsettlingly, the words Purge and Purify appeared for a microsecond before the weapon's coolant levels appeared on the Master Chief's HUD.

"What weapon is this?" Chief asked carefully

"The Guardsmen know it as a 'Hot-shot Volley Gun', but its proper title is the Focused Heavy Lasrifle Mk 4-Gama," the Techpriest answered mechanically and respectfully.

"We have to move," Avery reminded everyone. "Command isn't paying us by the hour."

"Wait," an Imperial Guardswoman wearing a patch from the Fifth Tygriss Dragoons interjected. "You all get paid?"

Angkor Wat

Angkor Wat was an ancient temple complex. Like many ancient structures, it had secrets. The Covenant in their unyielding desire to erase the stain of humanity from their Lords' creations, had no desire or inclination to delve into the ancient secrets of humanity.

The true nature of humanity's ancient secrets were lost even to the species's genetic memory. Humanity may not remember, but an instinctive fear and reverence for the ancient places of the world. There were secrets that should remain secrets. Humanity knew that ignorance was the greatest protection against such malevolence.

The psyker-less Covenant had no such blessed ignorance.

Only recently had they been confronted by the Powers of the Immaterium. In their cursed ignorance, they believed the powers of the Warp were just one more foe to be battled openly and with force of arms. Covenant leaders and armies were unprepared for the truth of the war that had erupted acros all of creation.

Prophet of Iconoclasm, the Covenant's foremost authority on rooting out conterfiet Forerunner technology…and now the very history of the hated humans, had no concern for the destruction of Angkor Wat. He had detected an incredibly faint signal that the humans had somehow missed. It had required specialized equipment and properly ordained associate intelligences to locate the weak signal.

"We have six-hundred meters to go, Chieftain," the Prophet announced while adjusting

"Of course, Honored Prophet. I am eager to reclaim and cleanse the holy relics. They have been too long defiled by their presence on this filthy world."

The San'Shyuum sighed in relief. "It is so refreshing to work with your species, Chieftain! Faith before all!"

"The Sangheli," the Brute spat the name. "They were clouded by the pursuit of personal glory. The Covenant comes before all, even one's own species."

Eventually, the Covenant task force reached the chamber deep within the bowels of Angkor Wat. The Brutes set to work clearing the walls encasing the only technological center in the entire complex.

"This…is not the work of our Gods," the Prophet of Iconoclasm spat. "It is a perversion of our Lords' Work!"

The Prophet glided across the room, as if guided, to the lone active console. "And lo, were the proud cast aside…"

Machinery that had slept silently for longer than recorded human history crawled and growled towards activation. The dust of ages was cast off.

Unfortunately, so too were the protective wards.

Angkor Wat was not simply a temple built over the location of an ancient technological marvel. Angkor Wat was a prison. The Ancient Human Empire, long ago cast down by the Forerunners, had encountered a Warp Storm. It had confounded their arcane sciences as they attempted to study the blasted hell-wound ravaging the local fragment of reality. All study had been called off after a week and numerous suicides, falls, and tragedies. However, it was the being that had emerged from the festering gash in space that gave birth to such pure madness. The creature could not be killed…only contained.

And now, the beast was no longer contained.

"I had expected Thunder Warriors of the Anathema, but the Gods care not for the type of sacrifice…so long as sacrifices are made in Their Name. GLORY TO THE DARK GODS!"

The pronouncement was punctuated by a wave of pure Chaos. Brutes and Grunts screamed as their flesh flowed like wax or entire squads were forced together by a perverse parody of a singularity.

At the end, only a crippled Prophet and the Chieftain remained alive. The howling masses of the Covenant soldiers served to weaken the psychic barriers binding the Daemon to Angkor Wat. The Chieftain, a giant even by the standards of the Jiralhanae and buoyed by incredible faith…and now madness, charged the Daemon Prince. He and his charge were pitiful in the face of a Chosen of the Dark Gods. A contemptuous flick of the wrist was the only assault the Daemon needed. The Jiralhanae and the high ranking Covenant Prophet simply evaporated as a wave of pure Immaterium passed over them.

"So, Terra itself is under siege…this…is unexpected," the Daemon mused. "The Dark Gods call for their forces…"

Cleveland, Ohio

A high-pitched noise that Ruwan couldn't identify assaulted his ears. The hotel concierge was acutely aware of three things. One, the sound wasn't a Covenant vehicle. Two, the sound was deep inside his brain. That was a very unpleasant scenario. Finally, the screech was blocking out the somewhat frantic yelling of his current companion.

"Ruwan, get up!" Myras Tyla yelled again. The styllight musician roughly pulled Ruwan to his feet.

"There's a service tunnel for VIPs about twenty meters to our right. It's hidden." Ruwan smacked the back of his head to clear the last vestiges of noise from his mind.

"I thought they were joking about that," Myras clicked her tongue.

The younger brother of Colonel Ackerson pulled Myras down and they crouched/ran towards the tunnel. Every step was seemingly punctuated by an explosion or the roar of some weapon.

"And I always thought the Covenant threat was…exaggerated," Ruwan confessed. "I wouldn't put it past Jimmy to over sell something that would keep the military well-funded."

"Jimmy?" Myras asked, grateful for any distraction from the hell engulfing Cleveland.

"The only family I really have; my brother, and a pathological liar."

Myras didn't know how to respond to that. Fortunately, the tunnel was close. The pair of fleeing civilians was met by a few other hotel workers at the tunnel. One of the workers was a bouncer at the hotel's bar. He was ex-military and took 'point'. The musician didn't particularly like her little band's chances if they came across any Covenant. She held a strange pistol-like weapon. Ruwan had a crowbar. The Bouncer, whose name she hadn't caught, had a civilian model pistol. The weapons weren't a comfort. In fact, they held the opposite impact. Covenant soldiers would probably just kill them.

'The Covenant would just kill us anyway…' She corrected herself.

"Hey, Myr," Ruwan whispered to her. The celebrity was caught off guard by the pet form of her name. She turned her attention to her companion. "We're going to make it. Know why?"

"Why?" Myras asked as the other civilians strained to listen.

"Because there is no fucking way I am dying in Cleveland."

The little moment of levity was worth its weight in bullets. Even Bouncer cracked a smile. He held up a hand for the group to wait as he opened the exit door.

"Looks clear. Everyone stay low, stay fast, and stay close."

That was a series of instructions that wouldn't have to be repeated. Everyone scampered out of the tunnel.

A young woman was fiddling with her personal device. "Hey, I've got something!"

"Don't play it through your speakers! Just tell us what it says, okay," Ruwan surprisingly didn't snap at the teenager. "We have to stay hidden as best we can…"

"Oh, right…" the girl looked down at the ruined street beneath her feet. "The army has set up a refugee center in Akron. They've secured the monorails out of the city to help with evacuations."

Ruwan and Bouncer exchanged a nod. "Let's catch a train."

"You sounded like a soldier there," Myras complimented. "Did you ever want to join like your brother?"

"Hell no. I want to open a craft brewery," Ruwan snorted.

"Oh shit! Everyone down!" One of Ruwan's friends, a girl named Georgia, cried out. The now infamous sound of a Covenant vehicle ground down the street nearby. Brutes herded Grunt soldiers as they swept the streets.

"I smell you, human filth!" An armored Brute bellowed. The smaller Grunts fanned out at the menace behind the order to, "Find the humans!"

"Something's up," Myras whispered. "Why aren't they just tossing grenades?"

"They want us alive," the bouncer whispered. There was a sudden electrical crack from somewhere and the bouncer collapsed in a headless heap.

Ruwan smacked the plasma pistol out of Myras's hand and threw his arms up. "There's a sniper."

His tone was matter-of-fact yet completely defeated. The last thing he wanted was to surrender, but he knew resisting would get them all killed immediately. This was the only way to ensure that the tiniest sliver of a chance existed.

The Covenant swarmed over the humans. Gasps and cries of fear filled the small group. The survivors had never seen an actual alien. Ruwan thought they were absolutely hideous.

Absolutely terrifying was also a gross understatement of the current situation.

"Surrender! Surrender or I'll feast on your charred flesh!" The large Covenant Commander howled. The humans complied fearfully and were herded towards an odd alien vehicle. It looked like an exposed Double Decker Bus.

"Take them to the coliseum. Surely one of these insects knows about the Key of Osanalan!" A Jiralhanae Major growled.

"They actually believed that shit about the Key of Osanalan? The actual fuck?!" Ruwan whispered. 'Jimmy…what have you done?'

Onyx

Fear had been made physically manifest. Catherine Halsey was a woman of science. There should be no way emotion should be matter. Worse, the scientist shouldn't instantly know which gaseous cloud of emotion was ambition, fear, hope, or desire.

"This…shouldn't be…"

"No, but this is Chaos. You are bearing witness to the fate of Mankind should these Heretics and Traitors complete their fell objectives," Chapter Master Khaba said from the Sekmet.

Kurt joined the conversation. "Has the Fleet achieved Orbital Superiority?"

"Yes, Lieutenant Commander." The Space Marine Driver was nearly an automaton to nearly everyone, but there was an inkling of respect for Kurt and the other Spartans. It seemed that the Space Marines were an insular group.

"Heretics!" The Razorback's gunner hissed. Halsey flinched at the religious term more than the crack of superheated and ionized air created by the firing of the vehicles massive energy weapon.

"There is a Forerunner Facility ahead!" Halsey cried out as unknown knowledge filled her head. The nine-times-nine thoughts echoed through her head. A vague memory of an ONI report framed by the echoes of her ambition flitted at the corners of her perception. "It was described as their Shield."

Ambrose scowled behind his SPI helmet. The dark look was born from his anger at ONI's obsession with 'compartmentalization', the Chaos attack on his Spartans, and the betrayal of the UNSC by Tom and Lucy. The scowl deepened as the very thought of his two former Spartans filled his mouth with ash. A haggard cough expelled actual ash from his lungs. "The hell?"

An unnaturally deep voice rumbled from the comm and interrupted any further questions. "An accurate description, Spartan Ambrose. This is the taint of Chaos manifesting. The Great Enemy holds sway here. Our reality is bound by the whims of the Enemy."

"Dr. Halsey, what is the Forerunner Facility a Shield against?" Kurt asked. "Is it related to this?"

"No, the defense is against the Halos. Reports from the survivors of the first Halo contained references to the Forerunners classifying Halo as their Sword."

The convoy came to a halt as they reached the facility. As everyone exited the vehicles, they were assaulted by the twisting unreality bleeding through from the accursed Immaterium. The assault was subtle and toyed with their senses, thoughts, and weighed darkly on their souls.

"I'm calling in a supply drop. Speed and surprise should be some protection against all this," Ambrose informed his comrades and the Space Marines of his plan.

He received an almost imperceptivity small nod from the Chapter Master. A few minutes later, a number of pods launched from the UNSC California Juniper impacted near the Sekmet. The Land Raider had highly advanced tracking software. Human-created AIs managed to triangulate the drop site using information gleamed from the Land Raider, Ambrose's CNI, and Linda's MJOLNIR armor. Most of the pods arrived safe and untainted. However, there were three of the twenty pods turned into fractal bird-like creatures that spoke the Nine Lies of Tzeentch as they scattered.

"We have to stop this," Ambrose growled. "Whatever it takes, we have to stop this."

Hindu Kush Mountains, North of Kabul, Afghanistan

The Hindu Kush Mountain Range was home to some of the most difficult terrain anywhere on Terra. Many an invader had been drawn into a conflict here and bled dry. Captain Senectus was determined to maintain this tradition. The fratery of the Iron Snakes would not shame the proud martial tradition of mankind by failing in their duty. Each Phratry Squad had sworn oaths to safeguard the dozens of refugee camps sheltering in the mountains to the Emperor Himself.

Senectus was waging war alongside Squad Akylas. The Phratry was equipped in a manner comparable to the Sternguard Veterans of chapters that followed a rigid interpretation of the great work of Roboute Guilliman; the Codex Astartes. Each Battle Brother carried numerous magazines of specialized ammunition. So far, Akylas and Captain Senectus were acting as the Seeker Squads of Old. Covnenant command and control found themselves hunted down and destroyed.

"Brother-captain," Sergeant Africanus called over the Vox channel. "Covenant Contact at Point Delta."

The Captain recalled the topographical map of the region. He brought all known Covenant troop concentrations to the forefront of his mind. A million details filtered through Senectus' superhuman mind.

"They are attempting an encirclement," Senectus announced. Neither humanity nor the Covenant had achieved orbital superiority. There was no concrete information. It had become nearly impossible for the Astra Militarum or the Covenant to effectively coordinate. Space Marines were above such concerns. "Contact Cladius and Gregori squads. Cladius is to reposition eight kilometers south-southeast of Delta. Gregori is to use their jump packs to harass the Covenant as they advance. Our objective is to turn their advance further north."

Senectus was contacting the other Phratry Squads. The Iron Snakes were amongst the most flexible Astartes present on Terra. Phratry Squads were designed to operate independently from each other. Isolation was no impediment to the effectiveness of the Fratery. That was not to say there was no connection. Iron Snakes were brothers and would never abandon their kin under any circumstances.

"Our orders, Brother-Captain?" Sergeant Africanus asked again.

"Unchanged. The Auguries of the Blood Ravens Librarius have revealed a Prophet is leading the Covenant operations in this region. We shall cleanse the beast from Terra's sacred soil."

The Space Marines were not slowed by the mountainous terrain. Power Armor and transhuman physiques made traversing the Afghan countryside trivial. In a matter of hours, the Astartes had located the Covenant Forward Operating Base. The Covenant had established their occupation center in the shadows of enormous carvings of Buddha. It had not been a deliberate choice, but Captain Senectus could not help but notice the symbolism. The xenos false prophet had established his facility on the 465th anniversary of the restoration of the ancient statues.

Senectus respected the achievements of the past. They were a symbol of mankind's resiliency and elevation over the bestial xenos that laughably claimed to be Humanity's sapient equals. He was also aware of the ONI and Inquisitorial projections that the statues would be a priority target for Traitor Astartes Iconoclasts.

"Target sighted, Brother-Captain. Assigning Priority Sigil," Brother Caetano intoned.

The Captain acknowledged Caetano, "Establish overwatch position." The venerable Astartes reset comms priority to the rest of the squad. "Brother Rasce, I have marked position Charter in your autohelm. Target priority is xenos air assets. Secondary priority is enemy armor."

Caetano shouldered his Stalker-pattern Bolter and slipped into the shadows. Rasce maglocked his Godwyn bolter in place and commenced the Rites of Arming for his missile launcher. In an instant, Rasce had departed.

"Brother-Sergeant Africanus; take Brothers Gnaeus, Nerva, Sethre, and Tullus to Position Echo. Target priority is Covenant Phantoms and Shadow transport craft."

"Brothers Scaevola, Pliny, Gallaus, Cuinte, and Apothecary Jovian; you are with me. Prioritize use of Vengeance rounds," Senectus commanded. "Follow!"

As was the expectation of the Adeptus Astartes, the Iron Snakes were in position rapidly but unseen.

"Brother Caetano, neutralize." Captain Senectus' order was acknowledged by a single bolt round. The Prophet of Temperance fell in near silence as the modified Kraken round tore through his engorged cranium. The bolt was not stopped until it struck a Covenant field generator. The momentary disruption of the power grid sent the F.O.B into as much disarray as the rest of the Phratry's assault.

Combat Squad Africanus fell upon the roosting Phantoms and Shadows in a cascade of violence. Combi-meltas tore into the unsuspecting transport craft. The air glowed incandescently in the passing of the energy weapons. Viscious, angry gashes were torn into the fliers. The Covenant transports were not completely destroyed, but they would not be contributing to xenos operations ever again.

Senectus and his brothers advanced under the illumination of stricken Banshees. Rasce was unerring in his covering fire. The Covenant attack craft were flying so close to the ground that the Iron Snake only used Flakk Missiles against tightly packed shoals of Banshees. Vengeance rounds made a mockery of Jiralhanae semi-powered armor. The Honor Guard and Chieftains fared little better.

"Brother Cuinte, engage enemy armor at o-ten," Senectus hissed as he brought his Storm Shield in front of him. The clank of his combi-plasma locking onto the rear of the shield was soon drowned out. In its place, there was only the shrill roar of a Hunter's Assault Cannon. The Chapter Heirloom shrugged aside the vicious beam.

'Formidable,' Senectus was nearly complimentary in his thoughts on the xenos weapon. The Captain sprinted across the battleground admist his brothers culling the xenos. Brute Majors, Chieftains and Ultras were falling to bolter, combi-melta, combi-plasma, and power sword.

Senectus produced his power maul and roared, "I FEAR NO XENOS. FOR I AM FEAR INCARNATE!"

Demon…an approximation of the word rumbled forth from the Lekgolo colony. The powerhouses met in a vicious melee. Blows that would cleave through the armor of battle tanks were turned aside by shield and sheer will. Senectus was viewing the Hunter as a surprisingly worthy foe. There was little true respect. Instead, the Iron Snake Captain appraised the Mgalekgolo as a big game hunter would appraise a lion as a worthy trophy. To Senectus, this gestalt colony was simply one more offering to place on the altar of Humanity's eventual triumph over the Materium.

Captain Senectus moved with a speed that many would deem impossible due to the sheer mass of his Astartes physiology. He sidestepped a vertical swipe of the Mgalekgolo's shield and struck the exposed back of the Covenant Combat Form. The sheer concussive force and caustic energy field of Senectus' power weapon obliterated hundreds of the Lekgolo worms. The colony experienced such trauma that the entire structure withered and died. A roar of pure fury announced the charge of the Hunter's Bonded Partner. The beast completed a single step before Caetano split the beast in half with an unerring bolter shot.

The echo of the shot was the only remnant of the assault. The burning of Covenant vehicles and war materiel provided a symphony of the night. Senectus and his Battle Brothers had overrun the base and slaughtered hundreds of Covenant in less than eight minutes.

"Captain Senectus…this is Hyderabad Station," a mortal voice echoed in the Iron Snake's helm.

"Acknowledged," Senectus responded.

"Confirmed Covenant CAR frigate en route to your position." Senectus smiled at Hyderabad's announcement. The kilometer long vessel was a significant allotment of enemy resources.

"It shall be cleansed," Senectus reported. He turned his attention to his brothers. "Leave the Covenant wounded in the open and ensure the Prophet's corpse is visible."

"Yes, Brother-Captain," Africanus inclined his head in response.

Senectus hefted his Power Maul. "Prepare your hoplons and sealances, Brothers! We may be far from the seas of Ikatha, but a Wyrm shall be slain this day!"

Onyx

They will be stopped. They will be stopped.

Kurt 'Ambrose' repeated the mantra over and over in his head. Earlier, there had been a tiny flickering ember of hope for Tom and Lucy. Kurt had hoped that their attack was political.

A mewling, malleable mass of manifested malfeasance emerged from the malaise of the defiled monument to the Forerunners. Fires born of pure corruption and arrogance danced at the ever shifting digits masquerading as a hand.

The SPARTAN fired and fired again. His aim held true and the demon collapsed into ashes of pure perjury.

Unnaturality was the only constant in this hellscape. Kurt willed his mind to focus on the mission.

They must be stopped. They must be stopped.

It was all that had kept him going for the eternity of war he had been submerged in for an eternity. He tried not to think about the anger Halsey had shown as the Celestial Lions and SPARTANs had left her behind with the Razorbacks. This was no place for her. This was no place for anyone. This was simply abomination. If this was the vision for reality Tom and Lucy possessed, there was no redemption possible. Death was the only option now.

Linda-058 dropped from her perch as crystalline thought nearly encased her in an eternity of madness. "We can't fight this conventionally."

Chief Librarian Nassor intoned harshly, "We must remove the Catalysts. The Sorcerers Te'oma and Lucilla are sixteen kilometers forward. The third catalyst is eight kilometers within."

"Within? Forward?" Kurt asked.

Khaba shook his head. "This realm is on the edge of the Materium and Immaterium. Conventional thought, much less conventional tactics, are ill advised in this accursed place."

The Space Marines conversed in a language with no frame of reference for any of the UNSC soldiers. After a terse nod from the Chapter Master, translatable speech resumed.

"Ambrose, we must part ways. Time conspires against us. The Celestial Lions shall head within. It is up to you to press forward to confront the traitors."

"So be it, Chapter Master," Kurt responded. "Good luck."

"In the name of the Emperor," Khaba's response was truly respectful for the first time.

The Astartes thundered towards their unnamed objective. Kurt turned to Linda, Fred, and the few remaining SPARTAN-IIIs accompanying them. "Move out. We have words for Tom and Lucy."

Words failed all attempts to capture the writhing abomination of Chaos. Seas of thought that dwarfed the Indian Ocean drained into basins of lies the size of a Scorpion Tank. The Shoals of Sky-Rays blinked in and out of existence. Vistas of unfathomable words appeared on the horizon only to burn into nothingness. History and prophecy warred for prominence around the SPARTANS.

A single mantra kept Kurt moving forward: They have to be stopped.

The SPARTANS arrived in a bubble of reality after aeons of battle. At the center, Tom and Lucy stood around an elevated basin of shocking simplicity. It was unadorned and untouched by the ravages of Chaos.

"Tom-B292 and Lucy-B091, you are hereby ordered to surrender in order to answer to charges of treason." Kurt leveled his weapon on the two Chaos Mages.

Te'oma turned his ornately adorned helm to his former commander. "Treason? Treason against a lie is no crime, Trevelyan. It is liberation. It is the breaking of chains that render us chattel when we should be GODS!"

Lucy ran her hands through the liquid in the basin. "We were so close…but it was just another lie."

Kurt, Fred, and Linda exchanged a dark look as Lucy's unnatural wings extended to their full span. The Sorceress turned away from the basin, a look of betrayal etched into her neotenous features. "To think, it was all to isolate her."

"Do you not see, Trevelyan?" Tom asked. "We are pawns…to be cast aside and discarded."

"Stop calling me that! I am Kurt-051, Lieutenant Commander Ambrose!"

Lucy shook her head. "You should have been like us…drawn to knowledge. Circumstance had such lovely libraries…"

"Enough! We are here to stop you!" Kurt thundered.

"You are here, as we are, because Tzeentch has no further need for us upon the main stage…We are but bit players now."

Across the universe from Tom's declaration, the Celestial Lions were carving a bloody path through the descending rings of an ancient Forerunner Facility. Tzeentch had warped the Core Room Antechamber into a parallel of the levels of Dante's Inferno. Each level saw more horrific Daemons of Tzeentch confront the Celestial Lions. Daemons fell by the legion. Numbers were meaningless to the Warpspawn.

They were not meaningless to the Celestial Lions. Fifteen Celestial Lions had descended into this nightmare realm. Three had fallen. Brothers Arje, Uyat, and Kei had been martyred defending their brothers. Uyat had died gloriously. Before his final breath, the Daemon Prince G'goho'xadao had been banished.

Khaba's white-hot rage that such a hero of the chapter's geneseed was unrecoverable fueled his war. There truly was no counting the Daemons that were smote to ruin on the blades of his Lightning Claws.

Days of tireless combat followed until at last…absolution.

A Greater Daemon of Tzeentch, the avian Lord of Change, lounged casually in front of the entrance to the Forerunner 'Dyson Sphere'. "You are here at last, mortal."

"And you shall die at last!" Khaba shot back as the Celestial Lions charged. Nassor held back, weaving a psychic binding of exceptional power. Krak Missile and Assault Cannon fire raced ahead of Storm Bolter fire and Assault Terminators.

"Khaba…Lions, do you fail to recognize that your true liege is the God of Hope? Tzeentch? Do you not hope for a restoration of your chapter? To see new secrets of your chapter lore brought into being?"

The Daemon flicked its wrist contemptuously and the incoming weapons fire simply vanished. A sweep of its scepter sent an arc of sorcerous energy cascading forward. Three Celestial Lions were hit by the catastrophically powerful Doom Bolt. Two were eradicated in totality. The third was badly staggered. His Storm Shield saved his life, but the ancient relic was warped and slagged beyond future use.

Khaba's anger burned all reason away. The unthinking rage pushed aside the Daemon's attempts at control, even as the whispers slowed the perceptions of some of the battle brothers. They were loyal beyond all doubt, but to superhuman beings like an Astartes half a second was an eternity.

A trio of krak missiles impacted against the beast. The Lord of Change had somehow been unable to stop the attacks from striking true. He was rendered to a kneeling crouch. Khaba took the opportunity to leap onto the Greater Daemon's knee and again towards its head. The Daemon scarcely managed to block the attack. In his distracted state, a thunderous power fist blow hit with the force of a sun. The Daemon howled in pain and crushed the Terminator in a cage of electrified ambition. Khaba slashed widly at the Daemon. The Chapter Master roared oaths of loyalty to the Emperor of Mankind and the entire human species.

Faith was his greatest weapon. Pure, blinded, raw faith fueled his hatred. His hatred guided his blows. His blows cleaved deep into the legs of the Daemon. The Greater Daemon roared in shock that such an insignificant creature had wounded it. The monstrosity raged at the failure of its foresight. As it collapsed, Khaba fell upon it and grabbed at the pinions of his foe.

Fury tore both wings clear. In a moment of transcendent strength, Khaba had crippled the Daemon and given his Brother-Librarian time to bind the Daemon. A vortex swallowed the Greater Daemon of Tzeentch away. The purifying absence cast aside the Warp corruption.

In that moment, the military victory for humanity was assured.

At the basin, Tom and Lucy felt the banishment of their Daemonic Patron.

"And so, it is done." Lucy turned her back on the SPARTANs. Her hands danced in the air as if she were sitting in front of a loom. She could feel her ship as it evaded the vengeful Imperial and UNSC fleet. Tom realized what she was doing and quickly added his sorcereous might the ritual. Kurt, and the others, felt they were under attack and took shelter behind what limited cover was available. In an instant, the two former SPARTANs were gone. A few sparks of light erupted across Onyx as Tom and Lucy collected those of suitable loyalty. The traitors had returned to the Sorceress' Eclipse.

The UNSC had defeated them in combat. Their personal objectives had been denied. But their master's plans had advanced. Tom and Lucy had a new goal and information Tzeentch deemed inconsequential. The Architect of Fate was focused more on his whispers and on Lorgar to delve into the thoughts of two marginally useful pawns.

Most importantly to Lucy and Tom, they had the impotent and frustrated curses of Kurt Ambrose ringing in their ears.

Cairo Station

"Admiral Hood, Covenant reinforcements have just exited Slipspace 800,000 kilometers sunward of Venus!" A lieutenant shouted over the sirens raging throughout the station.

"Vladivostok Station confirms Boarders repulsed," a Marine reported from another terminal.

"Divert power to Gellar Fields!" An Astropath, who wished to remain nameless, began screaming. "The first of the Prodigals has returned!"

Lord Hood's eyes went wide at the pronouncement. "All ships! Prepare for Chaos Incursion! Imperial vessel activate Gellar Fields!"

The order went out instantly. A horrible burning spread from the Admiral's CNI as the primitive anti-psychic technology incorporated into the design strained under the immense stress.

The warnings of Colonel Ackerson flared equally as powerful as the fire at the base of Hood's skull. 'The key is Will. You cannot break,' echoed in the Lord Admiral's head.

"Slaves of Terra," An ancient voice that tore bloody rends in the fabric of the soul echoed forth. "Slaves of the San Shy'uum."

"Isolate and purge that signal!" Hood bellowed.

"We can't! It's not on any signal!"

"A psyker," Lord Hood said fearfully.

The hideous smile was practically visible through the psychic signal. "The Gods of Chaos have ordained that I, Lorgar Aurelian, shall Bear their Word. Illumination, vindication, and immorality are at hand for all who bend their knee and offer their souls to the Immaterium. Those who resist…shall be burnt away…and broken alongside the temporary, stagnant Materium. All who embrace The Word shall survive, but there will be no mercy for you…Father."

No one could deny, and many could not comprehend, the sheer venom and abyssal hatred behind the word 'father'. There was little time to meditate on the words of the First of the Damned. Moments after Lorgar's pronouncement, reality screamed. It howled in agonized pain. The Immaterium poured forth with a fury not witnessed by any living being in a lifetime.

There was one who remembered. He swore that he would not remain passive in this Siege.

As the Anathema of Chaos swore his Oath, three Space Hulks emerged. The craft were covered in their transition by lightning bolts of pure Daemonic energy. Dozens of Imperial, Covenant, and UNSC vessels were obliterated. Chaos escorts raced ahead, eager to close with the enemy or begin the assault on Terra.

The Battle of Earth had become true Anarchy. There was no objective save…survive.

Reality rested on a tenuous, white-knuckle edge. The Long War continued and across reality there was a single underlying sound.

The Laughter of Thirsting Gods.

Author's note: We have officially hit the home stretch! Until the Ark, there will be no plot lines that are not related to the Battle of Terra. A few characters whom you probably have forgotten exist will be mentioned next chapter. We will also start a plot line I've had in my head since the beginning of this story.

If any of my readers live in Denver, I am well and truly sorry. If you DO live in Denver and want to give me some details about your home town...so I can blow it up accurately...I mean, present it in a faithful manner let me know.

And the part about Upstate South Carolina? Yeah...I kinda blew up every town I've ever lived in for longer than 6 months.

Reviews welcome! If you don't review, you can explain to Ancient Illiam why you have forsaken your duties to the Emperor!