Thud.
The heavy boots of power armor struck the deck with dull, echoing thumps, jarringly sharp within the silent corridor.
There were no lights here. In the gloom, faint but unmistakable, anguished screams drifted from several nearby cells. Mixed with the low hum of engines, the sound created a deeply unsettling atmosphere.
Inside, the only source of light came from a single candle fixed to the wall. By that thin glow, one could see that beneath it, on the deck still slick with half-dried blood, lay several severed alien limbs.
The air was thick not only with the scent of blood, but also with a suffocating mixture of rot and scorched flesh.
Bang bang!
"Norris, stop playing for now. We have visitors. Turn on the lights." Stepping into the interrogation chamber, Nathaniel knocked on the valve frame and called into the darkness.
"Commander Nathaniel, you just missed quite the show."
From the shadows, the giant who had just finished an interrogation exuded a heavy stench, like he had stepped straight out of a slaughterhouse—a mingling of torture drugs and alien blood and flesh.
By the faint candlelight and the night-vision systems of his Mjolnir exoskeleton, the Master Chief saw that the man inside was not wearing a helmet. Long black hair fell loosely over his shoulders. Within his dark, glossy eyes flickered an eerie light. A faint flush tinged his pale, refined face.
Bzz.
As the Midnight Lords interrogator Norris spoke, the chamber was suddenly flooded with light.
"Grrr..." Perhaps from prolonged darkness, the sudden brightness drew a low growl from the depths of one of the inner cages.
"Gurgle! Gurgle~"
Only now did the Master Chief see clearly. In the outermost cage huddled a large group of Unggoy, trembling in the corner, their breathing masks and methane tanks still attached.
Looking further in, he even spotted numerous insect-like alien creatures.
"Yanme'e..." he muttered.
These flying, insectoid beings were known to the United Nations Space Command as Yanme'e—the Covenant's aerial combat troops.
Why had they captured so many Covenant soldiers?
Under the torchlight not far away, the man wore deep blue power armor. A pair of finely crafted pistols hung at his waist. In his hands, pliers and a scalpel were slick with blood and chunks of flesh.
The Master Chief first cast a startled glance at Nathaniel, then shifted his gaze into the chamber. When his eyes met Norris', he instantly saw cruelty and indifference within them. The blood dripping from that gore-soaked hand made him look anything but benevolent.
"How are the Sangheili?"
"Norris, don't get too creative with them. It's not critical, but catching replacements would be troublesome. Our next stop is Reach. We probably won't run into more Covenant scum for a while."
Nathaniel asked.
"Relax, I know the limits. Haven't touched them yet." As he spoke, Norris removed the candle from the wall and muttered almost regretfully, "Still, it's a pity. With the lights this bright, the mind-awakening candle loses some of its effect."
The mind-awakening candle, as the name implied, sharpened senses, stimulated the mind, and heightened perception in animals. It was one of the Midnight Lords' internal little toys.
And used in an interrogation chamber, no less. Did anyone truly believe it was just for sharpening the mind?
As for not seeing clearly in the dark—ha. The Midnight Lords lived for the dark.
"There'll be plenty of chances. What's there to regret?"
Taking the pliers from Norris' hand, Nathaniel examined the fresh strands of blood upon them and walked toward the dissection room within. "After those chimpanzees met the Sangheili, did they start mocking each other and fighting?"
"Of course they did. When the Sangheili you captured arrived—heh—the scene was something. Even while I was cutting them open, those apes wouldn't curse me. They kept hurling insults at those four-jawed fellows instead."
"What kind of grudge is that..."
"John, keep up."
"Understood." The Master Chief withdrew his gaze and followed.
Clack.
Deeper inside, not only were there more Unggoy and Yanme'e, but the number of Kig-Yar increased as well. Upon seeing the Master Chief in his dark green power armor, they widened their eyes in terror, shouting words like "Demon."
"Oh? It seems..." Norris glanced back at the Master Chief, pausing at the white 117 emblazoned on his chest plate. "Mister 117 has quite the reputation."
"Nothing special. Just doing my duty." His tone remained even.
Because the Jiralhanae had engaged in large-scale cannibalism before, the Midnight Lords had deliberately confined these apes beside the dissection tables. After the Sangheili prisoners arrived, harboring malicious intent to intensify tensions, the Midnight Lords placed them directly opposite the Jiralhanae captives.
Having dissected, soul-searched, and tortured so many aliens, they understood plenty about the Covenant's internal filth. The conflict between the Sangheili and Jiralhanae within the Covenant had long since become public knowledge—even the lowly Unggoy were aware of it.
As soon as the Master Chief stepped past a sliding door, a fierce argument reached his ears.
Jiralhanae—one, two, three... eighteen of them—and... thirteen captured Sangheili. They had not only fought on Madrigal.
"Raar!"
It was impossible to tell what they were saying.
"Catch." Thoughtfully, Nathaniel tossed him an earpiece.
"Thanks."
Attaching it to the side of his helmet, he heard:
"Ha! Look who's here to join us. Aren't these the noble, brave, mighty Sangheili? Go on—tell us how you were defeated and captured by human heretics!"
"Watch your place, Jiralhanae. You neither need nor deserve to know."
"ROAR—! Captured already! And you cowards still pretend at dignity. Disgusting! The very smell of you makes me sick!"
"Shut up! You lowly Jiralhanae brutes have no right to speak of us!"
"No right?! Cowards! Afraid to admit it! If you Sangheili have even a shred of backbone left, admit it! Did you betray the sacred faith? Did you defy the teachings of the Prophets? Did you betray the Covenant?!"
"You spout nonsense! Twisting the truth! What right do you blood-drinking savages have to speak? The Covenant was founded by the Sangheili and the San'Shyuum together! Latercomers slandering the founders, calling the founders traitors—how laughable. If there are traitors, it's you!"
"You're the one spewing filth! Weak crawlers who cling to ancestral glory—only fortunate to have come earlier. Sangheili, if you didn't betray us, then why do these damned humans treat you differently? Why do they heal you instead of torturing you? Why do they feed you? Tell me—why?! Isn't that betrayal?!"
It was no wonder the Jiralhanae suspected the Sangheili of treachery.
The disparity in treatment between the two species was simply too great.
The Jiralhanae were either beaten or strapped onto torture benches and operating tables. What they were fed was little more than slop to keep them barely alive. As for the Sangheili—never mind the food—they were left largely untouched, even tended by medical officers.
They had already disliked the Sangheili to begin with. Now, the Jiralhanae exploded.
"I'll say it again. We don't know. And we absolutely did not betray anyone." The Sangheili did, in truth, admire humanity's stubborn resistance over more than twenty years of war, the trouble humans had caused the Covenant.
But admiration was one thing—hatred was another. Admire or not, war was war. They had never shown mercy on the battlefield. Betrayal was unthinkable.
"Who would believe that?"
The two races argued with escalating fury.
"Oh? So lively." The moment Norris' voice rang out, the chamber fell silent. Even the arrogant Jiralhanae warriors wilted.
It was clear that Norris' methods were extremely violent.
Several injured Jiralhanae were mangled from head to toe, their flesh torn and blood-soaked. They huddled together, wrapped in crude bandages, groaning in agony.
"Commander Nathaniel." Two Midnight Lords on duty rose at once when they saw Nathaniel behind Norris. They stepped away from the operating table, shutting the air valve and ending their little pastime.
Behind them, from the surgical platform, boiling corrosive gas poured forth, searing the flesh and bone of a Kig-Yar. Its already ugly face had become more hideous than a demon's—twisted expression, blinded hollow eyes, tongue lolling outward, streaked with mucus, tears, and drool. The sight was nauseating.
"It's you!"
"You're awake?" Nathaniel stepped forward, addressing the captured Sangheili commander clad in red armor. "Looks like you've recovered quite well."
"ROAR—!"
Bang!
A heavy fist slammed against the metal bars as thick as a human forearm. Several Jiralhanae thrust their arms through the gaps, eyes bulging as they glared at the opposite cell, trying to claw at the cowards across from them.
"Cowards! And you still claim you didn't betray us!"
Seeing the human officer ignore them completely and walk straight toward the Sangheili as if to "check on" them, the Jiralhanae flew into a rage. Their faces flushed red, dark skin turning even more ominous, veins standing out sharply on their foreheads.
"Silence."
Crackle!
"ROAR—!"
The bloodied Jiralhanae suddenly screamed.
The violent pain made their bodies tremble. They released the bars, desperately trying to tear free of the specially designed collars around their necks.
"Still full of strength, I see. Norris, take these few out. Run them through the 'procedure.'"
"Understood." Norris made an OK gesture. A bloodthirsty red glint flashed through his black eyes.
"Out!"
Three Midnight Lords on duty roughly grabbed several of the loudest Jiralhanae by their hair and dragged them out alive.
Then they were taken into the dissection chamber. Blood splattered everywhere—the scene...
It perfectly showcased the Midnight Lords' madness and darkness as enforcers of terror.
Yet the remaining Jiralhanae glared at the Sangheili with even deeper hatred.
Seeing this, the red-armored Sangheili commander gave a bitter laugh. "Human, what exactly do you want? This attempt to sow discord is useless."
"Useless because you say so?" Nathaniel bared his teeth in a grin. "Do you truly think your Covenant is united as one? That those ostrich-like, ugly aliens at the top truly trust you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Are you pretending not to notice? Or are you genuinely blind? What are they for, then? Aren't they meant to replace you?" Nathaniel pointed toward the Jiralhanae in the nearby cages. "The Covenant has already abandoned you. Alien race—Sangheili."
"Impossible! No matter how you twist your words, the Councilors and the High Prophets will never bend to your wishes. Human, the Covenant will never submit to you!"
"Hmph. If you refuse to submit, there will only be war. I'm merely the messenger. On the contrary, I welcome every alien scum choosing resistance. That way, I'll have more specimens for my collection."
"Until the last rebel dies, the war will never end."
With a faint chuckle, Nathaniel searched his memory for the carefully polished 'letter of surrender' sent down from above. After adding a suitably threatening tone befitting the Midnight Lords, he activated the interrogation chamber's projection device.
"Someone will answer your questions."
Bzzz—
It would have been better if he hadn't turned it on. The moment the projection activated, everyone froze.
"By the Throne... what in the void is this? Royal Guard?!"
Not only the captured Sangheili were stunned—even the Midnight Lords who had activated the projection were momentarily dumbfounded.
In the projection, standing behind the Imperial officials in ornate civil robes, were towering figures clad in brilliant golden armor.
This gold-and-red livery was unlike anything else. Not even the Seventh Legion, the Imperial Fists, whose armor was yellow, bore such a shade. Other Astartes Legions were even less comparable.
Yellow and gold were very different.
Radiant gold armor within the Empire's military hierarchy belonged exclusively to the Royal Guard. Aside from a few custom-forged suits worn by certain Legion Commanders, it had never appeared in formation.
"Why are the Royal Guard here?"
For the golden-armored Royal Guards, who normally guarded the Grand Imperial Palace in the Imperial Capital, to appear personally at the frontlines—there was only one possible reason.
They exchanged looks. Pupils dilated. Breathing grew heavy. Swallowing unconsciously, one of them whispered, "There's only one possibility... Her Majesty has arrived."
As a reconnaissance detachment assigned in advance to the Second Imperial Guard Legion's Retributors formation—Universe 117—they had been deployed before Selene herself arrived. Naturally, they had not yet received news of the Empress' personal visit to the front.
Even if the Midnight Lords were not like the Seventeenth Legion, the God-Empress Preachers, with their near-pathological fanaticism, for a mid-to-lower-ranking Astartes veteran, learning that the goddess they served was so close still stirred unavoidable awe, excitement, and fervor.
As the Astartes Legions expanded rapidly in scale, those early Imperial Guard veterans from the Imperial Capital who had once followed Selene—and the first generation of Astartes—had long since risen in rank or been ennobled, now serving as mid-to-high-level commanders within the Legions.
The lowest among them were veteran sergeants.
For most newly inducted Astartes, opportunities to approach Selene closely were now exceedingly rare.
"Her Majesty?"
Watching the pale-faced Midnight Lords officer Nathaniel flush with a color he would have thought impossible, the Master Chief was genuinely surprised.
If he imagined himself in that position, facing his direct superior, Dr. Catherine Elizabeth Halsey, beyond obedience to authority, he might feel some gratitude and perhaps a measure of familial respect.
As for the generals of the UNSC defense forces, or even the senators and chairman of the Unified Earth Government—at most, he would stand at attention and salute.
Under the influence of emotion suppressors and years of relentless war, unnecessary feelings simply did not arise.
In the Master Chief's judgment, Nathaniel—an augmented warrior even stronger than a Spartan—should have been even more rational and efficient than himself.
From the slaughter of Covenant elite forces, to the cold but reasonable handling of the Madrigal resistance, to the brutal interrogations of Jiralhanae and Kig-Yar captives—everything had testified that Nathaniel was an efficient killing machine, a tool built for mission completion.
Yet the fervent reverence now visible in his eyes forced the Master Chief to reconsider.
"Royal Guards... Her Majesty..." he murmured.
Such titles had long vanished from the Unified Earth Government of the 26th century. One would only find their equivalents in human history before the 21st century.
That implied a feudal monarchy? A constitutional monarchy? Or perhaps merely a codename for a leader?
Though the thought lingered in his mind, the helmeted Master Chief's voice remained steady and calm as he looked at Nathaniel, who had slightly bowed his head.
"Commander Nathaniel, who are they?"
...
Meanwhile, near planetary orbit above Reach, at one of its orbital defense platforms.
Radar Control Room.
As violent fluctuations appeared on the instruments—signals of a slipspace rupture unfolding—alarms blared throughout the station.
"Report! Slipspace exit aperture detected... Unable to identify. Vessel not registered."