The warships' appearance was indeed dazzling, almost luxurious in their beauty.
But the sheer destructive power they revealed struck terror into both the Human Federation and the Huain civilization.
According to combat AI calculations, in the span of just one second, thousands of warships had already been destroyed.
"Who are they?"
That question echoed simultaneously in the minds of every human and Huain who witnessed the sudden, indiscriminate assault.
Yet there was no time to dwell on it.
A signal forcibly breached both Human and Huain defensive AI systems. Instantly, every ship's screens were hijacked, all displays switching to a single broadcast.
The image that appeared was of a being resembling a human male. By human standards, his features were flawless—so much so that even the most exacting modeling instructor would find no fault.
The only physical difference lay in his sharply pointed ears, and in his expression: naked, unrestrained arrogance.
When his lips parted, his voice flowed like music, beautiful yet alien.
"We are the Children of the Old ones, the Rulers of the Galaxy, the Wanderers of the Void… the Aeldari!"
"I, Glaichuser Ulanna, declare that you and your entire species shall henceforth be slaves of my people, graced with but a sliver of our radiant glory."
"Kneel and surrender now. That is the best fate available to you. Refuse… and you will taste our wrath."
Through the force of psychic resonance, his words were instantly translated into every tongue, understood by all. His tone, however, was unmistakable—commanding, condescending, as though a king were speaking down to lowly serfs.
In that instant, countless humans and Huain alike were inflamed with rage.
Even Ryan, hardened commander that he was, felt a deep surge of anger. Never in human history had an alien dared to demean them so brazenly.
Yet as supreme commander, his instincts and discipline kept him from acting rashly. The fact that this so-called Aeldari had instantly overridden all fleet communications and imposed his image upon every ship was enough to command grave caution.
But Ryan's restraint did not extend to everyone.
Especially not the frontline soldiers—many of whom had just narrowly escaped death. Hearing Glaichuser's words, their fury overflowed.
As for the difference in power? To soldiers locked in combat, that meant nothing. With adrenaline high and numbers vastly on their side, hot blood drowned out reason.
One warship opened fire. Then another. Within seconds, like an uncontrollable contagion, nearly half the combined fleets were unleashing their arsenals.
Billions of laser beams, plasma bolts, and kinetic warheads filled space like a torrential storm, converging on the twelve Aeldari warships.
Both the Human and Huain commanders frowned, yet neither intervened. They too despised the arrogance of these newcomers, and saw merit in testing their strength.
As for Glaichuser—he regarded the barrage with nothing but disdain.
As commander of an Aeldari slave-hunting squadron, he had already assessed the enemy's technological level. To him, the Humans and Huain were little more than primitives. Their so-called weapons were laughable, crude toys.
A faint, mocking smile tugged at his lips. As his psychic energy pulsed outward, the void around each Aeldari vessel shimmered. Without a sound, layers of extradimensional shielding unfolded into being.
Every incoming projectile, every beam, every missile vanished upon contact—diverted harmlessly into some unknown subspace.
Seconds later, as the storm of firepower subsided, the twelve Aeldari warships remained utterly unscathed. They had not even shifted position.
"Our turn."
"Do not worry—we won't kill you all. After all, you still have… value."
Glaichuser's voice, laced with cruel amusement, reverberated through every screen.
Then the warships' metallic hulls split open, revealing arrays of strange mirror-like constructs.
Ryan, himself a powerful psychic, immediately felt a wave of dread. The pressure was suffocating, his instincts screaming of mortal danger.
"Quickly—!"
But before he could issue a command, blinding lances of light erupted.
Each of the twelve warships flared brighter than a sun, beams of annihilation bursting forth. The surrounding void was illuminated as if by twelve colossal stars.
Where those beams struck, Human and Huain warships melted like paper held to a flame. Hulls dissolved, reactors detonated, explosions blossomed across the battlefield in rapid succession.
In only a few seconds, more than one-third of the combined fleet was obliterated.
Wreckage and fireballs drifted everywhere, red flames erupting from shattered ships. The commanders of both species stared on in stunned disbelief.
The gulf in technology was beyond imagining.
The Aeldari stood on a level utterly unattainable.
And yet, they did not even consider this a battle.
For this was no armada, not even a formal strike force. Merely a private slaving expedition—a small squadron by Aeldari standards.
But such was the difference between civilizations: even a band of slave-hunters could erase entire fleets with ease, as casually as hunters in jeeps driving down a herd of sheep.
Once again, Glaichuser's voice thundered across the void:
"Now, I grant you one final chance. Submit to me, and bask in the reflected glory of my people."
As he spoke, irritation tinged his tone. A decision formed in his mind: once captured, every prisoner from this expedition would be sold to the Cult of Excess—the Haemonculi of the Blood Choir.
Those twisted masters of fleshcraft would teach these base races what it meant to encounter the true lords of the stars. They would learn humility—not by choice, but by agony.
A faint smile curved Glaichuser's lips. He himself often delighted in torturing captives, preserving their remains as grisly trophies. Yet even he shuddered at the madness of the Blood Choir.
Compared to their artistry of torment, his own cruelty was as gentle as a breeze. They were the most depraved, most terrifying sect among the Aeldari. Their very name inspired dread across countless enslaved races.
Though unaware of Glaichuser's thoughts, Ryan—psychic that he was—felt the malice radiating from that arrogant smile. He sensed that surrender would bring no salvation, only a fate far worse.
After a brief moment of calculation, Ryan discreetly gestured to his adjutant.
The officer's eyes widened slightly, then he gave a subtle nod of understanding.
_____
T/N:
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