Miles secretly returned to the surface base under the cover of night, without disturbing anyone, and slept soundly until the next morning.
After getting the basic required amount of sleep, he walked out of his personal barracks. The base was sparsely populated; Sentry Towers and Automated Machines were responsible for security, guarding against raids by the Na'vi.
As the Security Chief and the highest-ranking officer at the base, Miles habitually inspected the defenses before heading to the military camp to begin his daily routine exercise.
Although middle-aged, the Colonel maintained extreme self-discipline. His physique was very robust, and coupled with his sharp, deep gaze, he resembled a fierce tiger descending a mountain.
When the morning sun rose over Pandora, the troops exited the barracks, ate breakfast, and prepared to assist the miners in extracting Superconducting Ore.
Miles's gaze was like a torch. As usual, he stood atop the base's lookout Tower, overlooking the entire base, watching the Steel Behemoths awaken from their slumber.
But today was different from before.
In the eyes of this iron-blooded soldier, who held the belief of Human Supremacy, there was only fanaticism and ruthlessness.
He swept his binoculars across the base and saw several tall, blue figures walking in the plaza, his eyes filled with undisguised revulsion.
Those were Na'vi Replicas, cultivated by human scientists using biological genetic engineering after collecting Na'vi genetic data.
They lacked self-awareness. Humans connected to them via a Neural Link Device, using consciousness to achieve remote control, facilitating human exploration of Pandora.
Beneath the beautiful surface of this planet lurked danger; while the atmosphere contained oxygen, it also contained various toxic gases harmful to humans.
Although the environment on Pandora was good, humans found it difficult to survive long-term in the wilderness, confined to the protection offered by the base's Air Purification Devices.
The Na'vi Replicas created through genetic engineering were perfectly suited to handle wilderness exploration duties and bypass the various local dangers.
The Na'vi are three meters tall, have blue skin, slender limbs with stripes, and facial features similar to humans. Their eyes are large and bright, capable of perceiving more colors, and they have luminous spots resembling glowing glands on both sides of their nose bridge and various parts of their body.
They are agile, soaring freely through the jungle, traversing the forest like flat ground.
Although they lack advanced technology, their individual strength is immense, and their primitive bows and arrows possess astonishing power, easily penetrating the high-strength glass of human aircraft and killing the internal operators.
What most astonished the human scientists was not the Na'vi's strength or intelligence, but their integrated evolution with the planet.
All creatures on Pandora, including the Na'vi, have neural bundles growing from their heads, resembling hair, which allow for physical connection and the mutual exchange of thoughts.
This unique, primitive, and mysterious bio-organ caused great suffering for the humans who came to colonize.
The Na'vi established connections with the local Jungle Behemoths, driving the jungle beasts and Sky Predators to attack human technological creations and resist the advance of human invasion.
The Colonel put down his binoculars, a look of disdain flashing in his eyes, and a cruel smile appearing on his lips as he waited for the Na'vi Replicas to leave.
He was waiting for an opportunity to completely eliminate the weak-minded thinking in the base, seize control of the Pandora Base, and prove himself!
Abandon harmony and coexistence, embrace Human Supremacy!
"Base Guard, assemble." After watching the Alien Replicas and scientists leave, Miles growled into the communication channel and launched the purging operation.
At the Security Chief's command, the Base Guard dared not delay, assembling fully armed in the base plaza.
At this time, most personnel had already left the base to perform various tasks in the field. The base was filled with soldiers ready for deployment, prepared to respond quickly to alien incursions.
Looking at the young men standing beneath the scorching sun, thousands of soldiers formed neat squares, their formation impeccable.
The Colonel revealed a look of satisfaction. This was the direct line of troops he had brought from the Mother Planet; their combat effectiveness was considerable, and their loyalty was deeply ingrained.
"Soldiers!" he shouted, causing the troops to puff out their chests and raise their heads, offering their supreme respect to their superior officer.
Anyone with eyes could see that Miles held extremely high personal prestige among the military, earning the soldiers' complete admiration and obedience.
"Sir!" the soldiers roared in unison, answering the Colonel's call.
Miles offered a satisfied smile, then his expression abruptly changed, becoming stern and sharp, his face flushed red from shouting: "Do you trust your commanding officer?"
"Trust! Trust! Trust!"
The soldiers' emotions were instantly ignited, their spirits soaring uncontrollably as they raised their rifles and shouted, their cries echoing through the sky.
It has always been this way for soldiers; trust is the foundation of handing over one's back to another.
In a perilous, unfamiliar world, soldiers live dangerously, and the bond between comrades is deeply rooted.
The fierce shouts of the troops attracted many onlookers, but after observing for a moment, they simply assumed the grunts were idle and venting excess energy.
"Very good! Full of spirit!" Miles was extremely pleased and gave the troops a suggestive reply: "Return to your posts. Wait for my command. The Sudden Storm is about to arrive."
The soldiers did not doubt him; they saluted and dispersed, returning to their posts to await their commanding officer's order.
Many of them were excited, keenly sensing that the Colonel was different than usual, and anticipating what would happen next.
Miles hurried along, taking his trusted officers and soldiers onto the Aerospace Shuttle, preparing to head to the High-Orbit Starship.
"Colonel Miles, you do not have authorization—"
The transport crew spoke up, sternly reprimanding the officers who had barged into the cockpit.
Normally, no one was allowed to enter the transport without shuttle clearance.
But the next second, the crew members dared not speak and raised their hands; the cold muzzles pressed against their foreheads silenced them.
"Captain, do I have authorization now?" A Major looked vicious, his finger resting on the trigger, ready to fire and kill the crew.
The Captain swallowed, his eyes shifting slightly as he realized the pistol's safety was off, and the soldier's killing intent was undisguised.
"Esteemed Sir," the Captain forced a smile, turning to the aggressive soldier and saying casually, "You will have unimpeded access."
He then slowly lowered his arms, started the transport engine, and opened the communication channel, saying: "Tower, this is the Hercules Transport. Beginning return to space."
"Order received. Cleared for takeoff."
"What are you staring at? Get to work!" the Captain cursed angrily, rousing the stunned Co-Pilot and others, "
Property belongs to the company, but your lives are your own."
Prompted by his reminder, the crew members suddenly snapped back to reality and began assisting with the transport's takeoff.
The base's highest military Commander had rebelled—he had launched an uprising!
Here, where the mountains were high and the emperor far away, the Colonel had immense prestige and power. He only needed to seize control of the starship to be qualified to negotiate with the Mother Planet.
Once they occupied Pandora's Resource Vault, wouldn't immense wealth follow?
Working themselves to death mining here, how much money did the company give them in a year? Why risk their lives?
Having understood the crucial point, the crew members sped up their movements, piloting the Aerospace Shuttle skyward, returning to the High-Orbit Starship.
Miles's expression was calm. He sat with the soldiers in the cabin, reassuring the fighters with his steady resolve.
Whenever Major battles occurred, he always fought alongside his soldiers, building prestige while calming their fears.
The Commander in attendance, the soldiers were naturally full of courage, checking their firearms and preparing for a quick raid to take control of the entire starship.
The Aerospace Shuttle docked with the starship, and the fully armed soldiers descended like hungry tigers. They didn't even need to fire their weapons; their fierce aura alone subdued the security personnel.
Miles personally led the troops, effortlessly occupying the starship, first establishing himself in an invincible position.
"Control the base!" He commanded from the Starship Command Post, ordering the prepared ground forces to move and control everyone at the base.
The ground troops moved swiftly. The moment external communications were cut, they rushed into the Ground Command Post and secured it.
The Armory, the Ammunition Depot, the Vehicle Bay, and the Communication Tower—almost simultaneously, the entire base fell to Miles's army.
Many people hadn't even reacted, being forcibly escorted away in confusion until they were locked in the Concentration Camp, only then realizing the army had mutinied.
Having completely secured the base, the army quickly filtered out those willing to cooperate and began sending Return Orders to the outside world, waiting for the fish to deliver themselves one by one.
Seeing the workers return, the soldiers swarmed them, indiscriminately dragging people roughly out of their vehicles and locking them into the temporary jail.
The rebellion led by the highest Commander, who knew the base like the back of his hand, was swift as the autumn wind sweeping away fallen leaves. The plan was meticulous, with every step interconnected.
First, occupy the starship to secure the high ground; then, control the base to achieve an invincible position; finally, just wait for the personnel outside to deliver themselves.
Humans simply could not survive in the wilderness of Pandora.
"I'm leaving the above to you. I must go down and handle some matters." Once the overall situation was settled, Miles handed the starship over to his loyalists, intending to descend to the surface.
"We definitely won't let you down!" The officers and soldiers entrusted with the heavy responsibility had flushed faces, straightened their backs in a salute, and were immensely excited.
The commanding officer's uprising had succeeded, and handing the starship over to them was undoubtedly a trust from the heart.
The aerospace transport plane descended from the sky. Miles strode out, and the army erupted in deafening cheers.
The army had completely seized control of the base. Soldiers patrolled the high walls with rifles, while helicopters and fighter jets circled in the air on alert.
This was the base's most vulnerable moment. Although the uprising was successful, they needed to guard against indigenous attacks and secure the fruits of victory.
The plaza was packed with people—all controlled personnel, including scientists, engineers, miners, and basic laborers.
It was approaching afternoon, the hottest time for the sun in the Pandora system, causing everyone to sweat profusely.
Miles walked onto the platform. Sweat dripped from his resolute face as his sharp, cold, and merciless gaze swept over the crowd.
The adjutant handed him a data pad containing the list of all detainees, awaiting the ruling of the Supreme Commander.
As the list was presented, a squad of soldiers marched forward proudly, escorting several prisoners to the front platform, and crudely using a forklift to carry a Na'vi clone.
They were important prisoners, designated by Miles during the uprising—the detestable "Human Traitors" he had specifically ordered the army to capture.
"Human Traitors, kneel!" In front of the assembled crowd, Miles made no attempt to hide his disgust, shouting loudly, "You are sinners against humanity."
Soldiers used their rifle butts, striking the prisoners' knees, forcing them to kneel on the ground.
Employing a tactic of "preemptive assertion," the Colonel used simple means to first define the nature of their actions, making the subsequent trial revolve around the Human Traitors.
Miles possessed an iron fist but was not a mere brute; his mind was sharp, and he knew how to give the rebellion a legitimate cause.
The army's sudden takeover of the base had caused much internal dissatisfaction, so an outlet was needed for people to vent their emotions.
These Human Traitors were the perfect scapegoats, standing against the greater good.
Sure enough, upon hearing the verdict of "Human Traitor," countless angry stares fixed upon the prisoners, openly displaying their revulsion.
"Colonel Miles, what exactly are you saying? Why did you launch a rebellion?" The female scientist shrieked, attempting to break free, and instead questioned the army's act of rebellion.
As a high-ranking intellectual, she naturally knew she couldn't answer. To be associated with "Human Traitors" meant eternal damnation!
Everything she had done was to promote coexistence between humans and the Na'vi, jointly developing Planet Pandora and integrating into the planetary ecosystem.
Miles recognized the female scientist.
She was quite talented, having developed the Neural Link Device, which showed the Mother Planet another possibility and reduced military expenditure.
Without a doubt, she was a Human Traitor!
As a top human talent, she stood beside aliens, advocating for harmonious coexistence between humans and xenomorphs.
"Doctor Augustine," the Colonel began slowly, his voice carrying authority and pressure, "you and your project are the greatest blasphemy against humanity!"
"I will announce your crimes and make you face the judgment of the masses before your fellow human beings!"
He pointed at the Na'vi clone lying on the forklift and issued a severe reprimand: "These alien xenomorphs are hideous. How dare they coexist with humanity?"
"We are humans, the supreme advanced race, possessing pure genes and wisdom, dominating the sea of stars."
"The xenomorph race is backward and savage. You should be researching how to integrate them into humanity, not making humanity compatible with them."
Miles's voice boomed like a great bell; his roar echoed across the plaza even without amplification, clearly audible to everyone: "Your thinking is so depraved, you are unworthy of the status of a high civilization!"
After the fierce condemnation, Miles felt a rush of satisfaction inside. The pent-up frustration poured out, and his thoughts became clearer.
Had it been before last night, although he hated the alien xenomorphs, he would never have dared to so arrogantly belittle other sentient beings.
Having witnessed the majestic figures of those great individuals and gained a rough understanding of the Imperial Truth, his sense of identity with humanity had risen to an unimaginable level.
Boom—
The Colonel's words were like a rolling boulder striking a calm lake, causing ripples and throwing the plaza into an uproar.
Thousands of people at the base lived together in the same circle; everyone knew what the Doctor was doing.
They usually paid little attention, but now that it was exposed, a deep sense of dread washed over them, making them break out in a cold sweat.
Many people whispered amongst themselves, their low conversations buzzing as they discussed the Colonel's words.
Miles raised his hand to stop the adjutant from suppressing the noise. This was exactly the effect he wanted: to plant the seed of contempt for xenomorphs and solidify the consensus of human supremacy.
Without a doubt, his words resonated widely. Most people nodded in agreement, looking at the Human Traitors with increased disdain.
Their eyes seemed to say: Human civilization has crossed the sea of stars, and will never coexist with lowly xenomorphs.
We are conquerors who bare their fangs!
Doctor Augustine's face was deathly pale. She understood that her project was finished. Miles had succeeded in stirring up the emotional resonance of the majority.
She raised her head, looking up at the Colonel, unable to argue: "The Na'vi..."
"They are not human!" Miles interrupted rudely, firmly refuting her: "They are space xenomorphs."
The Doctor despaired. Every word she spoke at this moment, intended to defend the Na'vi, was testimony used against her in her own trial.
Colonel Miles was now inciting and manipulating public opinion, becoming a military dictator who would bring the flames of war to this beautiful world.
But there was one thing she didn't understand.
Why? Why did the Colonel suddenly launch a rebellion, using thunderous methods to declare his stance, doing so hastily and impatiently?
Her heart sank. Could there have been a change on the Mother Planet? Had they decided to use a hardline policy against Pandora?
No, that's wrong. The Doctor quickly shook her head, dismissing the guess in her mind.
If the Mother Planet had changed its attitude, there was no need to treat her project this way; they could simply order its termination. Why hold a public trial?
The more she thought about it, the stranger it seemed. The Doctor glared intensely at the Colonel, unable to fathom why he was so uncompromising and vehemently hostile toward the Na'vi.
Feeling her intense gaze, Miles inwardly sneered but ignored her probing look, shouting with powerful vigor: "Bring up the xenomorphs and the Human Traitors."
"You... Mm! Mm!" Augustine's pupils contracted sharply. Just as she was about to shout "crime," her mouth was taped shut by a soldier.
Over a dozen Na'vi captives were brought forward. The three-meter-tall xenomorphs were conspicuous in the plaza.
Facing so many humans, the Na'vi looked somewhat panicked, unsure of what was happening.
"Make them kneel!" The Colonel commanded softly. Soldiers struck the xenomorphs' knee joints with their rifle butts, forcing them all to kneel facing the humans.
Doctor Augustine's team was also escorted up. Under the soldiers' coercion, they bowed their heads and knelt before the humans, their faces ashen.
"Humanity is supreme!" Miles roared at the top of his lungs, drawing all the air from his lungs in a wild shout.
"Humanity is supreme!" When the Supreme Commander raised his arm and shouted, the army naturally echoed him, their cheers rising and falling throughout the base.
"Humanity is supreme!" Racial sentiment was ignited. Various personnel stared with bloodshot eyes, raising their arms and roaring.
Miles's gaze, sharp as a hawk's, swept over the people gathered in the plaza. He waved, signaling soldiers to enter the crowd and seize those who hesitated.
Only when people next to them were seized did everyone realize: the Colonel was preparing a massacre to purge all unstable elements.
By the time the fervent shouts died down, hundreds of people had been escorted onto the platform at the front of the plaza, kneeling before the crowd below.
"Execute these weaklings!" Miles's ultimate goal was to eliminate the weakness in the base!
Soldiers walked behind the weaklings and pulled their triggers without hesitation. Gunshots merged into a continuous sound, and the first batch of people were shot dead, falling into pools of blood.
The smell of blood permeated the air. The scene fell into a deathly silence. Many people vomited, and disbelief was evident even in the eyes of the Na'vi.
"Next batch," Miles said, his tone icy, his expression completely unmoved, as he ordered the soldiers to execute the next group.
The gunfire sounded again, batch after batch. Everyone was executed by the soldiers. Bright red blood flowed down the platform, even spreading toward the crowd.
The spectators were numb. They had never witnessed such a terrifying scene—humans being slaughtered like chickens.
No investigation was needed, no evidence required. Simply for failing to cooperate or showing signs of weakness, they were ruthlessly executed by the soldiers.
People did not resist, nor did they dare to.
Among those executed were their own friends and relatives, yet they dared not step forward to speak out or denounce the army's atrocities.
The crowd only dared to direct their hateful stares at the Na'vi and Doctor Augustine's team, grinding their teeth, wishing they could devour their flesh raw.
These Human Traitors deserved ten thousand deaths!
They constantly promoted harmonious coexistence and always considered the indigenous Na'vi. Now, how many lives had they cost?
And those damned blue-skinned xenomorphs, why should they be allowed to live? Many people had shown them mercy, but the price was their lives.
"Kill all xenomorphs! Humanity is supreme!"
The silent crowd erupted in roars. The fire of anger burned fiercely, turning emotion into the sharpest blade.
Miles waved his hand. Soldiers raised the sharp blades in their hands and, in an utterly barbaric manner, severed the heads of the Na'vi and the Human Traitors.
The long blade sliced across the neck, cutting through muscle and bone, the blood pumped from the heart hissed, mixing with the humans' fierce roars.
The alien's head spun in the air, falling powerlessly to the ground and rolling a few times, its terrified eyes still fixed on its human executioner.
The crowd roared again, their skin flushed red, veins bulging, faces twisted into terrifying grimaces, eyes filled with unrestrained joy, and deep, bloodthirsty growls emanating from their throats.
Colonel Miles sneered, what he saw before him was what he had envisioned: beheading the alien with primitive methods, barbaric and violent, awakening the wildness in human hearts with blood.
He had long realized a truth: when humanity first glimpsed the stars, they should not harbor kindness towards other races.
Unfortunately, there were always many hypocrites who obstructed, shouting: 'The lives of alien races matter too.'
Those fools wouldn't realize that if aliens were to raise a butcher's knife against humanity, the entire human society would suffer the losses.
They shouted about principles, but their hearts were full of false benevolence.
If the aliens killed humans due to the hypocrites' benevolence, would they take responsibility for the dead?
No!
Hypocrites are precisely the most irresponsible people; they lack the courage to bear the corresponding responsibilities, merely standing on the moral high ground, pointing fingers, and coercing the entire society to pay for their vanity!
Precisely so, human traitors are composed of hypocrites!
Declaring peaceful coexistence, diluting humanity's hostility towards alien races, and eradicating the bloodlust of the human race is truly a heinous crime.
Having come into contact with the great human civilization, Miles had fully awakened; what he thought was not wrong—aliens were dangerous, and they all deserved to die!
Now, eliminating dissent through slaughter and awakening primitive beastliness and hostility was a good deed that achieved multiple objectives.
Humans dare not defy authority, and are more adept at wielding knives against the weak.
Releasing the bloodthirsty beast in their hearts, hatred urgently needed an outlet, and the Na'vi were the perfect target for venting that hatred, to slay the filthy alien creatures.
"Release her," Miles saw the audience's hateful, bloodthirsty eyes, and his heart bloomed with joy, signaling the soldiers to release the doctor.
Dr. Grace Augustine collapsed to the ground; even without tape over her mouth, she couldn't make a sound.
Crimson blood flowed profusely, staining the base square, the stench of blood stimulated every nerve, her body trembled uncontrollably, and she involuntarily urinated, a foul-smelling liquid flowing from her lower body.
She truly hadn't expected Miles to be so cruel and decisive, cleansing the resistors with blood.
The stinging pain at the corner of her mouth pulled her thoughts back; a soldier tore off the tape and dragged her from the ground to the colonel's front.
"You beast!" The doctor gasped for breath, tears silently tracing paths down her cheeks, her shrill voice exceptionally loud in the silent square as she denounced Colonel Miles.
Her eyes were bloodshot, filled with man-eating hatred; the image of the man standing before her twisted, becoming a murderous Daemon.
"You're not just a beast, you're a war maniac who completely destroyed the chance for peace between two races!"
"Oh? My dear Doctor," Miles murmured softly, grabbing Augustine by the collar, their four eyes meeting, neither yielding: "You have no right to say that."
He looked up at the sky, the blue gas giant seeming almost within reach: "Do you think we are the only humans? That life is rare in the universe? That alien races are extremely friendly?"
Hearing the series of questions, Dr. Augustine froze for a moment, her pupils suddenly dilating.
A thunderclap of realization struck her mind, all the irrationalities unraveled, the colonel's actions found their basis, suddenly appearing before her eyes.
"Where did they come from?" The doctor shrieked, her hands clutching the colonel's strong arm, her eyes a mix of surprise and hatred, her expression incredibly complex.
She understood! Everything made sense!
Colonel Miles Quaritch had encountered visitors from the void, glimpsed a horrifying truth about the universe, and comprehended the law of survival.
"Who are they? Where are they?" The doctor was in tears, screaming hysterically, her knees buckling as she clung to the colonel: "Please take me to see them."
Under everyone's gaze, Miles laughed wildly, casually tossing the doctor to the ground, casting a contemptuous look: "Too bad, my dear Doctor."
"The universe is not a baby's playground; it has no dreamy colors. It is real and cruel, tolerating not a shred of weakness or pity."
"Unfortunately…" The colonel grinned, his white teeth bared, "you and your ideals are precisely the weak link they want me to eliminate."
"The reason I spared your life is to see if, when your hypocritical beliefs collapse, you can still despise my iron-fisted policy towards aliens as you normally do?"
With mocking words in her ears, the doctor lay in the pool of blood in the execution ground, as if she had completely died.
The belief in harmony she held in her heart had collapsed, tears flowed uncontrollably, her eyes stared blankly at the sky, meeting the giant storm eye of the blue gas giant.
Suddenly, her pupils contracted sharply; at the edge of the gas giant's outline, three small white dots appeared, flying in a triangular formation.
Miles keenly sensed the change in aura, looked up at the sky, his eyes filled with extreme ecstasy.
"Fellow countrymen!" His usually steady voice trembled slightly as he roared, making everyone look at him, then raised his hand to point at the edge of the gas giant: "Please look up."
"Receive that glory lost for ten thousand years!"
Everyone followed his gaze; the three high-speed white dots were visible to the naked eye, definitely not natural celestial bodies!
The base suddenly fell silent, then erupted into fierce cheers.
In the depths of the cold void, Blazkowicz frowned in great surprise as Sanguinius, aboard the Denurian warship, arrived swiftly.
"My visit seems a bit too sudden?" The handsome face in the holographic projection was gentle and charming, but deep in his eyes was a hint of teasing.
Seeing his brother's surprised look, Sanguinius knew that Blazkowicz had not informed his brother, allowing him to catch him off guard.
"I never expected to reunite with you here." Blazkowicz laughed heartily, showing no sign of embarrassment: "My brother, you've brought an unexpected surprise."
"Come," he pointed out a coordinate within the galaxy, inviting his brother: "Please come here, and we can drink and chat."
"Allow me to make a suggestion." Sanguinius gently raised his hand, politely declining, and brought up a holographic projection of the Pandora world: "This world has beautiful scenery; wouldn't it be perfect as a banquet table?"
The place the angel chose was a beautiful coast.
"Stars as a table?" Blazkowicz nodded in agreement, the angel was truly magnificent, "Then I'll go ahead and prepare the feast to await you."
As he spoke, the aircraft carrier's lights came on, and its massive hull emerged from the void, suddenly appearing in Pandora's high orbit.
The alarms of the solar sail spacecraft in low orbit shrieked, the people inside unaware why a super gigantic ship had been hidden beside them.
Panic broke out inside the solar sail spacecraft until the colonel sent a message from the ground, indicating not to panic, as the other party was also human.
The crew members peered out the portholes, admiring the magnificent giant ship, marveling at the beast crafted by extraordinary technology.
"You must prepare good wine." Sanguinius was not polite, boldly stating his request: "After all, in the vast star sea, Denurian wine is renowned. Ever since I tasted it at Horus's place, I still remember the flavor on my lips."
"Ha! Ha! Ha!" Blazkowicz laughed loudly, his shoulders trembling slightly, waving his hand as he confessed: "This warship carries little; let me satisfy your craving for now, and once we return to the Nur Stars, you and I can drink to our hearts' content."
He then temporarily bid his brother farewell: "That's it for now; I'll descend to the planet's surface first."
"I'll be right there," Sanguinius also smiled, ending the brief holographic communication.
Blazkowicz left the panoramic deck, unceremoniously dragging Harlan out of the lounge, taking Obelisk, and boarding a landing craft to descend to the surface.
At the human base on the ground, many people saw the landing craft detach from the mothership, all craning their necks in anticipation, only to find the landing craft descending towards the other side of the planet.
"Prepare the airship," Miles' voice trembled as he urgently ordered his subordinates to prepare the aircraft, "I must go and pay my respects to those great lords."
Great beings had descended upon the world; he had to personally go and follow their commands to prevent any accidents.
"Take me!" A shrill shriek came from below his feet; the doctor clung desperately to the colonel's calf, her bloody hands staining his trouser legs.
Miles saw that she dared to delay him, and anger immediately flared in his heart; he raised his foot, intending to kick the stubbornly clinging doctor to death.
His foot was about to land when he met Augustine's resolute gaze, which still held a lingering glimmer of hope; it seemed she hadn't completely collapsed yet?
His eyes narrowed slightly, and the colonel immediately thought of a cruel idea: this fragile spark of hope, casually extinguished by the great lords, wouldn't that be the best revenge against the hypocrites?
"Of course." He bent down and seized the doctor by the nape of her neck, his smile sinister and terrifying in the shadows, causing her to involuntarily shiver.
He grabbed her and walked towards the airship preparing for takeoff.
Pandora's coast was breathtakingly beautiful.
Blazkowicz descended in a landing craft, and the moment he stepped out of the rear hatch, the beauty before his eyes captivated him.
This was unlike any sea on Argent Nur. As far as the eye could see, it was an unimaginably clear blue.
The seawater was like diluted sapphire liquid, and sunlight penetrated the atmosphere, refracting crystal-clear, colorful streams of light within it.
It wasn't a single shade of blue; near the shore, it was almost transparent, revealing glowing underwater plants and swimming creatures.
He stood tall, gazing out from the beach towards the sea.
As the depth increased, the blue layered and blended, from a vibrant, iridescent glass-like hue to deep ocean indigo, like a living, breathing, water-filled gem.
The sand might not have been yellow; fine white sand shimmered, covered with a layer of glowing microorganisms, and each time the tide receded, it left a glowing line of waves.
"Mmm~"
Harlan let out a comfortable groan, walked out of the landing craft's hatch, took a few deep breaths of the planet's atmosphere, and leisurely enjoyed the caress of the sea breeze, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply: "The air here is really good."
Pandora's atmosphere contained extremely high concentrations of hydrogen sulfide and ammonia, both of which are highly toxic to humans. Moreover, the oxygen concentration was low, below the human survival standard.
However, the above standards are based on ordinary mortal standards, not including the descendants of the Golden Men and Astartes.
Harlan breathed normally, not only feeling no discomfort but rather breathing deeply with pleasure.
He had long since taken off his power armor, wearing only a pair of azure printed shorts and ancient sunglasses, with a surfboard tucked under his arm.
Upon learning that the landing site was by the sea, Harlan used the item printer to equip himself with a full set of gear for a good rest.
"What a wonderful feeling." Obelisk walked out of the cabin, his bare feet treading on the glowing sand, his shirt gently fluttering in the wind, one hand resting on his Dimensional Spear.
He gently squatted his tall frame, his hand brushing over the white sand, his eyes slightly narrowed: "I feel some kind of presence."
"Yes." Harlan looked further out, as if through the breathtaking scenery where sea and sky merged, he saw a kind of breathing: "This world…"
The Champion Swordsman's throat hitched, his brows deeply furrowed, as he searched for an appropriate adjective in his mind.
"Salts." Blazkowicz spoke a name, hoisted a huge box, and walked out of the cabin towards a corner of the beach.
Ever since arriving in this star system, he had felt something. Pandora, like Salts, had given birth to a World Soul.
In fact, compared to the nascent Salts, Pandora's World Soul was even more active, possessing a complete consciousness, never dormant, watching over the life it nurtured.
The battleship hovered in high orbit; Blazkowicz was not observing Miles, that mortal whom he had seen through at a glance and predicted all his actions.
He observed carefully, continuously scanning the planet with his augur, wanting to deeply understand Pandora's unique existence.
The sacred trees worshipped by the local natives were the material manifestation of the World Soul on the planet, growing everywhere on Pandora.
"Salts?" Harlan questioned, quickly following with his surfboard tucked under his arm, not understanding the meaning of that name.
When Blazkowicz annihilated the Lizardmen race, Harlan was on an expedition in Segmentum Obscurus and did not know what had happened.
"An ungrateful world."
Obelisk slowly explained: "The Gene-Father' first battle after returning to the Imperium, together with Wolf King Leman Russ, annihilated an alien race and destroyed that world."
As one of the earliest Legion Warriors, Obelisk witnessed the return of the Primarchs and was among the first to follow the Gene-Father, effectively having been "present for the entire show."
Constantly by the Primarch's side, he naturally knew every battle, which was a source of pride for him.
"Quick, tell me about it."
Harlan raised an eyebrow and slowed his pace, walking alongside Obelisk, pricking up his ears to listen to the encounter with the alien race.
"It went like this…"
Blazkowicz did not deliberately listen to their conversation, walking to the beach, he spread out a blanket and began to arrange drinks and food.
Once preparations were complete, he sat cross-legged on the pure white sand, feeling its softness, letting the sea breeze caress his body, gazing into the distance, entering an ethereal meditative state, his hand unconsciously reaching for his waist.
Although he wore cool shorts, a belt was still tied around his waist, from which hung the Blackstone Key and the ring of chaos.
These two dangerous artifacts, the former could activate a Blackstone Fortress, and the latter even provoked the intervention of a Chaos God.
No matter where he placed them, Blazkowicz was always uneasy, and to prevent them from being stolen, he decided to carry them with him always.
The waves crashed, and fresh, salty air filled Blazkowicz's nostrils. His back was no longer straight, slightly relaxed and slumped.
He sat quietly by the sea, enjoying the rare tranquility, but his thick eyebrows gradually furrowed, as some observers had disturbed the peace.
Taking a deep breath, Blazkowicz did not drive them away. In his eyes, the local natives were no different from wild animals.
Blazkowicz didn't pay much attention, but Harlan, on the other hand, began to act.
As extraordinary transcendent warriors, how keen were those present?
The Na'vi were lurking in the sea, believing themselves to be well-hidden, but unaware that their gaze had already betrayed them.
Harlan pretended to be oblivious, picked up his surfboard, and headed into the sea, going straight towards them, looking like a mere coincidence.
The lurkers were greatly alarmed, quickly avoiding the human's swimming path and hiding in deeper waters, watching the human ride the waves away.
After several such back-and-forths, Harlan developed a playful streak, each time precisely heading towards the alien's hiding place.
On their last deep dive, the Na'vi left the beach. They were not foolish; they realized the humans had long discovered them and were merely driving them away in an unusual manner.
But they found it incredible that these tall humans were relatively friendly, unlike the smaller humans who were violent.
The environment was relaxed and pleasant, and time flew by quickly.
The three built a bonfire on the beach, caught many fish to grill, enjoying the pure natural delicacies, eating until their mouths were greasy.
Aircraft rotors churned the air; Miles, after a long flight, finally arrived at the landing site.
He dared not show any negligence, having the pilot land from a distance, and the squad drove four-meter-tall AMP Humanoid Mechs, approaching the beach from the ground.
Dr. Augustine sat on the mech's shoulder, craning her neck in anticipation, and let out a gasp of amazement the moment they emerged from the jungle.
She saw the tall figures on the beach; they were not wearing breathing masks, sitting cross-legged by the bonfire, oblivious to Pandora's toxic air.
"Hurry!" The doctor excitedly patted the glass shield, urging the colonel to speed up, eager to make contact with other humans.
This bitch!
The colonel driving the mech cursed inwardly, deliberately shaking the mech, almost causing the doctor to fall from its shoulder.
At this moment, he saw through the doctor's true nature.
This woman was not only hypocritical but also fickle and lacked principles; in short, she was a pure human traitor!
"Stop."
The colonel ordered the squad to stop. As soon as he stopped the mech, the doctor, disregarding her safety, jumped onto the sand, scrambling and rolling towards the beach.
Oh no!
Miles was filled with regret; this damned foolish woman, she was very likely to get everyone killed.
Although it was only a brief contact, the colonel knew clearly in his heart that those powerful figures from the star sea were not benevolent people.
Under the surge of excitement, the doctor's adrenaline spiked, and like a swift leopardess, she dashed onto the beach with hurried steps.
Tears welled up in her eyes; she had so many questions to ask, her heart was pounding in her chest, her cracked lips trembled slightly as she asked the first question she had pondered for a long time: "You…"
Smack!!!
A crisp, sudden sound, drowned out by the pleasant waves, left the doctor's face full of shock, her knees grinding against the sand.
In that brief moment, a tall figure instantly appeared beside her, and in the microseconds before she could react, brutally broke both her legs!
The colonel, who was chasing behind, broke out in a cold sweat; the adult's power exceeded his imagination, and he couldn't even discern their movements.
Seeing the doctor attacked, he felt a surge of satisfaction but dared not speak, spreading his arms to signal the squad to stop, and led the way by kneeling on the ground.
Intense pain surged through her, and the doctor wanted to scream to vent her agony, but she saw the warrior had already raised his arm.
No! I still have many questions unanswered!
Facing life and death, the doctor erupted with a strong will to survive, enduring the pain of her broken bones, forcefully pinching her throat with both hands to prevent herself from screaming, revealing a twisted smile.
The giant indeed stopped his attack, his eyes filled with a cold, eerie glow, and he walked towards the spaceship.
The colonel crawled on his knees to the doctor's side and squatted down, a look of disgust on his face, his rough hand pressing against her breathing mask.
He leaned down gently, gritting his teeth as he whispered into the doctor's ear: "Bitch! How incredibly stupid are you? Your offense just now almost got us all killed."
"Those powerful figures are from the star sea; your shallow knowledge and one-sided assumptions cannot even glimpse a fraction of them."
Grace Augustine collapsed onto the sand, trembling, gritting her teeth to suppress any sound, her rapid breathing fogging up the transparent mask.
She strongly endured the trembling of her body, making every movement exceptionally careful, daring not to be reckless again, and quickly calming her heartbeat.
Just as she was enduring the pain, the tall figure returned, throwing some kind of wearable device onto the sand.
After the Colonel knelt in salute, he quickly picked up the devices and distributed them to the others, finally forcing one device onto the Doctor's neck to prevent her from causing trouble again.
"mortal."
When everyone had put on the translator, Obelisk slowly spoke, his deep voice carrying immense pressure: "Know your place."
Miles quickly prostrated himself on the ground, his subservient manner resembling a white hound, showing submission to the strong one.
The others followed suit, performing a grand kowtow with their bodies pressed to the ground, their movements stiff, clearly unused to such etiquette.
The Doctor opened her mouth. She had wanted to say: A civilization like yours should not practice kneeling rituals that trample on the dignity of others.
Before the words could leave her mouth, the Colonel had already seized her throat, preventing her from making any sound.
"Can the Lord grant me an audience?" He looked up expectantly: "I have already seized control of the entire base and purged the weak."
"Wait." The tall figure was expressionless, showing no emotion. He used the war mace in his hand to draw a line on the ground, sternly warning: "Do not cross this line."
With that, he turned and walked away toward the bonfire, leaving the squad with his broad back.
Watching the tall warrior leave, Miles breathed a sigh of relief and signaled the others to help carry the Doctor to the rear to await the summons.
"Bitch, watch your words." He glared fiercely at the Doctor, regretting somewhat having brought her along. This woman had no reason and could kill everyone at any moment.
The Colonel wanted to kill her immediately, but feared being reprimanded by the Lords, leaving him hesitant and unable to decide.
Left with no choice, Miles issued the most severe warning: "You are not a soldier, you cannot perceive the gaze of those Lords—there is not a shred of pity or mercy."
"We have no initiative whatsoever; passive acceptance is the way to survive."
He drew a dagger from his waist and pressed it against the Doctor's lower jaw; the tip pierced her skin, drawing blood: "If you cannot grasp this, I will cut out your tongue right now, lest you kill us... and even this planet, along with our homeworld."
Augustine's pupils dilated. The severe pain of the fracture and the warm blood flowing from her jaw finally made her realize her current predicament, and she nodded heavily, ignoring the dagger pressed against her throat.
"Colonel, please set my bones."
Her voice was very low, devoid of any high-handed instruction, replaced by the most sincere pleading: "I don't want to die yet. There are too many secrets left in the universe."
"It should have been like this sooner." Miles retracted the dagger, casually wiping the blood on his clothes, and nodded with satisfaction: "A proper attitude is the first requirement for survival."
A hundred words from a person are useless; one lesson from an event penetrates the heart.
A few minutes later, the sound of the Doctor's bones being set, along with her suppressed groans of pain, echoed from the seaside woods.
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The sun was still bright, and the sea breeze was gentle and slightly warm.
The whistling grew louder as another Landing Ship descended from space. It was painted blood-red, and on both sides of the hull were scarlet reliefs depicting spread white wings.
The Colonel and his men hid in the woods, craning their necks to look, every detail happening on the beach was worth recording and analyzing.
The Landing Ship door opened with a roar, and the alien visitors who emerged caused their pupils to dilate and their mouths to drop slightly in astonishment.
Blazkowicz, who had been roasting fish by the bonfire, stood up, a smile unconsciously spreading across his radiant face. He patted his shorts to shake off the sand, ready to welcome his brother.
The moment the hatch opened, a tall warrior led the way out. He wore golden Artificer Power Armor and held high the Blood Angels Battle Standard.
The crimson banner fluttered in the wind, embroidered with Sanguinius in red robes—the Primarch tucking his wings and looking up at the sky. The halo behind his head glittered gold, his hands spread wide embracing the void. In one hand was the Chalice of Purity, and in the other, a blood-stained scrap of cloth representing sacrifice.
Swish~ Swish~
The Primarch's Guard marched out in two columns. These warriors were majestic and extraordinary, each possessing handsome features and an impressive demeanor. They wore luxurious golden Artificer Power Armor, wielded Artificer Power Swords, and had Jump Packs decorated with pure white wings on their backs.
A red carpet, vibrant as blood, rolled down the ramp of the cabin. It was embroidered with patterns of wings and sharp swords, chronicling countless honors.
A sacred radiance lit up the cabin, and a tall figure slowly stepped out. His golden hair billowed, his azure eyes were pure and flawless, and a faint smile graced his face.
His body was covered in golden Power Armor. Dark red gems were inlaid on his shoulders, chest, waist, and knees. His left shoulder was decorated with a pure White Leopard Head, the soft fur extending down and tied around his waist.
In his left hand, he held a golden spear, the spearhead resembling an Angel's Tear—powerful yet elegant. His right hand grasped a Golden Winged Longsword pointed toward the ground, burning with fierce flames, magnificent and deadly.
Sanguinius's pure eyes flickered slightly. Seeing his brother standing in the distance, a look of surprise flashed in his divine gaze.
His great brother stood by the bonfire, not wearing Power Armor, nor even formal attire.
His strong, perfect upper body was naked, his skin faintly glowing under the sunlight. His lower body stood on the white sand, wearing only a pair of casual beach shorts.
Sanguinius spread his wings and soared, landing before his brother, plunging the Blade of Vermillion and the Spear of Telesto into the sand.
He opened his arms and walked toward his brother, his words filled with joy and sighing: "Blazkowicz Novick, my great brother."
"The path to find you was not smooth; there were many twists and turns and frequent accidents, but we have finally met in the Star Sea."
"Welcome." Blazkowicz opened his arms and embraced Sanguinius: "All the anxiety of the journey will ultimately transform into the joy of reunion."
The two giants embraced, feeling each other's sincerity and strength, and only separated after a long while.
Sanguinius pointed to his brother's casual attire, then gently tapped his own armor, his beautiful face feigning displeasure: "It seems I made too grand an entrance?"
"Indeed." Blazkowicz nodded solemnly, raising his hand to signal Obelisk to step forward and present casual clothing to his brother: "Shed the tension and fatigue, and relax properly."
The Great Angel's eyes lit up. His brother had forgone solemn ceremony, choosing instead a more thoughtful way to welcome his arrival.
It was easy to see from this small gesture that his brother was a thoughtful person, knowing how to adapt to circumstances and show appropriate concern.
"That was kind of you." He looked at the short clothing held by the warrior, his tone softening considerably, and the resentment he had accumulated from Argent Nur vanished into thin air.
"Dismantle the armor!" Sanguinius spread his arms, not rejecting his brother's goodwill, and allowed his scions to remove his Power Armor.
Just as the Gene-sons prepared to step forward, the magnificent brother in front of him raised a hand to stop them, speaking words that surprised him.
"Let me help you." Blazkowicz rubbed the fine sand with his foot and said very seriously: "It's not convenient to set up a ladder here, and compared to our bodies, they are a bit short."
Sanguinius froze, then laughed more deeply, a wave of warmth and closeness rising in his heart. He closed his eyes, spread his arms, and said, "Go on."
Seeing him close his eyes and raise his head, looking rather like he was ready to face death, Blazkowicz shook his head helplessly, walked behind his brother, and began dismantling the Power Armor.
At the entrance of the Landing Ship, the Blood Angels, witnessing the harmony between the brothers, felt their two hearts tremble uncontrollably.
Although the journey had been somewhat unpleasant, the grace and approachability displayed by the Warrior King upon reaching the final destination swept away all discontent.
"The Emperor's craftsmanship?" Blazkowicz removed a shoulder guard, stroking the surface of the armor, recognizing the familiar forging technique.
"Yes."
Sanguinius nodded softly: "Before I left Terra, Father personally forged the 'Regal Splendor' and sent me on my campaign."
Handing the armor components to the Blood Guard, Blazkowicz thought of the Emperor, the man who swung a hammer to forge armor for his son about to embark on a campaign.
"This means he loves you very much."
This time, Sanguinius did not answer, standing silently in place, allowing his brother to disarm him.
Because The Great Angel did not know whether his Father's attitude toward him was love or hatred.
If it was love, his gaze intentionally avoided the wings when he saw him; if it wasn't love, he wouldn't have spent so much effort crafting armor for him, providing the most steadfast protection.
"He's an awkward person," Blazkowicz said softly, describing the Emperor's personality while dismantling the armor: "He doesn't express emotions directly. Calling him a 'reserved gourd' doesn't even describe one ten-thousandth of him."
"The Emperor has lived too long and forgotten how to express emotion. But without a doubt, he loves you and your brothers."
Sanguinius still didn't move or reply, but Blazkowicz saw the muscles of his perfect profile twitch slightly, a clear sign that he was smiling: "He even favors you."
"But I don't love him," Blazkowicz shrugged indifferently.
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I knew I was half asleep and tired when I updated last, We on Pandora?! lmao