Chapter 618: In the Name of Selene—

The blazing sun burned above, just like the hearts of every RDA employee at that moment.

As the plasma lances pierced the atmosphere, the rain-soaked clouds vaporized in an instant. The sky caught fire, everything lit ablaze as if the heavens themselves were burning.

Crimson—the color of the sun.

Even with filtered respirators, the scorching orange-red glow seared the faces of everyone within Bridgehead Outpost Base. The very air they breathed rolled like heatwaves, stifling and unbearable.

Instinctively, many closed their eyes, retreating back toward the permanent buildings within the base.

Miles Quaritch grimaced in pain, rubbing the ears of his Avatar body in discomfort.

At times like this, the heightened senses granted by Na’vi DNA were hardly an advantage. Hearing so sharp it could detect faint sounds was overwhelmed by deafening shockwaves, leaving only painful ringing in their ears. None of his Avatar commando squad was spared; after the first detonations, their eardrums were assaulted with unending noise, impossible to distinguish.

The acute sense of smell capable of tracking prey by pheromones now became torture. The hot winds carried the stench of burning vegetation and animal flesh, mingled with the acrid tang of ozone. The stench was unbearable…

Humans, with their duller senses, fared better. But the Avatars, unprepared, inhaled the foulness and several collapsed, gagging and vomiting.

RUMBLE—!

Blinding fire shot skyward, the ground quaking beneath them. In the distance, hundreds of kilometers away, the earth split apart. Lava fountains erupted tens of thousands of meters high, triggering quakes that set volcanoes ablaze across entire highland jungles.

Some RDA workers recognized the direction—it was where a large Na’vi tribe had once attacked them. The treacherous terrain and guerilla tactics there had plagued mining operations.

But now…

“Those blue monkeys are finished.” One muttered, with a trace of pity, but far more relief.

Thousands of kilometers away, scorching winds rose. Ash turned to dust and drifted into the sky.

One after another, concentric rings of light, each kilometers wide, spread outward. The burning sky spiraled around towering lances of light, swirling faster and faster, like endless columns of fire tornadoes tearing the heavens.

“It’s enough.”

Hot winds howled, tugging at Durandal’s uniform. Unlike General Ardmore and the other RDA personnel beside her, scrambling in disarray, the knightly woman stood pristine and immaculate, her bearing unshaken.

Yet no one noticed this small detail. Even Ardmore himself, like all within Bridgehead Base command, stared stupefied at the steel behemoths suspended above.

“The fleet has entered Pandora’s orbit. Prepare to deploy the landing forces.”

Judging the results of this limited orbital bombardment, Durandal gave a faint nod, then declared firmly: “Cease bombardment. Release the suppressants. Extinguish the fires. Now, it is time for the warriors to claim their glory.”

With those words, she slowly removed her respirator and oxygen mask, golden hair spilling down like a waterfall.

There was no need to hide anymore. Every human on Pandora had already been gathered within the outposts. From this moment—

“General Ardmore, contact all human armed forces on Pandora immediately. Inform them: from now on, the Empire will assume control over all affairs on this planet.”

Durandal’s voice carried no room for doubt as she ordered the command staff:

“Remember—our vanguard landing troops will descend by airdrop. Warn your men: do not open fire recklessly. Keep your weapons under control. Even if they see alien species, they are not to act. Any incident beyond this—will not be in my power to save them.”

To preserve their lives rather than see them cut down as trophies for the Empire’s auxiliary forces—that was the greatest mercy she could offer. The rest would be settled in swift battle.

Within the Empire, the prevailing attitude treated alien species as nothing more than cannon fodder and insects—unworthy of sympathy, deserving only of scorn, punishment, and brutality. Even other human groups, unless they had submitted and pledged loyalty to the Imperial consensus of faith—to Her Majesty Selene—were struck down mercilessly, with ruthless cruelty.

Under the influence of Selene and Sebas, through her frequent visits to the Imperial Ministry of War, observing the Astartes Legions in their campaigns, and engaging in deep exchanges with veterans of the Imperial auxiliaries and subservient forces… all of this had tempered Durandal, making her far more pragmatic than when she first entered the Empire’s military ranks.

To fight for all that is beautiful in the world.

This principle was one Durandal had always upheld, and it remained her driving force. But with a broadened perspective, she came to understand the necessity of priorities.

She recalled once, beneath the soaring halls of the Imperial Palace, when Empress Selene had asked her: “To fight for all that is beautiful in the world… Tell me, what do you mean by ’world’? How broad is its scope?”

At the time, Durandal had no answer.

Selene had not pressed further. She had only smiled and told her there was no need to rush.

“Think carefully. See with your heart. Decide your stance—whose interests do you represent? For whom will you act? A person? A family? A homeland? A nation? A race? I hope you will find that answer.

“Even when warriors give their lives to expand my dominion, when their battle cries thunder: ’For Selene!’—is it truly for me? Not necessarily. Some fight for someone they love, some for their family, some for their homeland, some for their nation, some for their people… I merely unify the authority to allocate and judge these sacrifices.

“And you?

“’All that is beautiful,’ ’everything that is beautiful’—these are too vague. No one can achieve that. Not me, not even any god. Even the so-called universal faith envisioned by God still had its heretics and its fallen angel, Satan. Perhaps such perfection has no answer, nor can it ever be realized.

“In the Empire, beauty and kindness must be directed properly. Misplace them, and you will find no path forward.

“On this stage of the Empire—across the multiverse, across the countless races and nations of the cosmos—will you remain obscure, or will you rise to fame? You, Kiana, and the others—I will no longer interfere.”

After that conversation, she had been gently led out of Selene’s palace, her mind unsettled.

That question lingered in Durandal’s thoughts for a long time.

She had never been particularly quick-witted. As a child, her tutors had even called her a blockhead.

Until—she witnessed the aftermath of Imperial campaigns. Victorious auxiliaries and subservient troops received their titles, rewards, and salaries, rejoicing sincerely from the heart. She also saw the warmth of families welcoming soldiers home in triumph. And she saw children who received nothing but an urn of ashes—the price their parents had paid, traded for rank, wealth, and glory.

She saw her homeworld rise from the shadow of the Honkai disaster, rapidly rebuilt under the governance of the provincial governor. Former members of Schicksal, Anti-Entropy, and even remnants of World Serpent were all properly accommodated.

The Empire’s open-handed supply of resources and its seemingly limitless market demand ensured that every world brought into its system prospered with astonishing speed.

It was then that Durandal found her path—to learn from Selene, discarding the dross while embracing the essence.

Selene: …

Rather than worrying about unattainable dreams of the future, focus on the present.

If she was to fight for all that is beautiful in the world, then first and foremost, she must fight for the beauty of every world under Imperial rule.

Next, for those humans not yet under the Empire’s dominion.

And lastly, for non-human species—the “alien races” so often named by the Empire’s military.

Such was the Empire’s nature, one she could not change. She was only a general, not an Astartes Commander, much less the Empress. Doing what she could to reduce unnecessary slaughter—that was her limit.

For even the auxiliary corps raised from the Honkai-stricken worlds, after fighting alongside the Empire’s armies a few times, had already assimilated into this ethos.

“Any objections?”

Durandal rapped her knuckles on the railing as the blazing lances of light faded, her eyes sweeping across the assembled RDA personnel.

“Yes, ma’am!” came the sound of nervous swallowing.

The RDA employees were stunned that Durandal could breathe freely in an atmosphere thick with toxic gases. But when they saw the heavy-armored giants with their hands resting on the triggers of their boltguns, they chose to comply, quickly hurrying back to the command center to relay the orders.

“Disarm these mercenaries.”

Durandal gave Agravain a nod, signaling him to activate the teleportation beacon. The Luna Wolves within the base could now move into action.

“All personnel! Disarm yourselves and return to your quarters!”

“Hey! Who the hell are you?!”

Some tried to resist. But when these returning mercenaries from the outer mines saw the intruders—heavily armed Luna Wolves warriors with multiple boltguns aimed directly at them…

Clang!

“Don’t kill me! I surrender! I’m just an employee, not an RDA shareholder!” One man immediately threw down his weapon, raising his hands in panic before dropping to his knees to show he posed no threat.

Damn, he was just a contractor—why throw his life away? One shot from those barrels, easily .75 caliber, meant certain death.

BUZZZZZT—!

The surge of a warp-teleport pulse exploded in the courtyard of Bridgehead Base. As reality tore open, thunderous footsteps boomed forth.

At the forefront, a Luna Wolf Centurion bearing a power sword strode out, leading the Astartes squad. Gasps rippled through the RDA personnel who had been ordered back to their quarters.

The Luna Wolves spread out with their usual severity, discipline, and uncompromising combat doctrine, swiftly seizing all critical areas of the outpost. Resistance was crushed instantly. Imperial auxiliaries followed to assume control of all positions.

When the striking Valkyrie units arrived, incidents flared. These men, long deprived on Pandora and surrounded only by gruff comrades or hardened women, couldn’t suppress their urges when faced with radiant warriors. Their leering… tch tch…

And then—nothing more. The auxiliaries guarding them laid into them with batons, beating them into silence.

“Who the hell are you people?”

Overhead, massive transport craft descended with a roar. Miles Quaritch raised his hands, glaring at the dark-haired man before him, voicing his question.

After the orbital bombardment ceased, the fleet still loomed above in low orbit. Hundreds of warships, stretching kilometers and even tens of kilometers in length, filled the sky, nearly blotting it out.

“If you live long enough, you’ll find out.”

A storm of magic surged. The black military uniform upon Agravain shifted, replaced by austere dark armor. A white fur cloak with blue and gold trim draped from his left shoulder. Standing stiff, one hand behind his back, he spoke bluntly: “Take him away. If he resists, execute him on the spot.”

“Yes, sir!” ×N

At that moment, Miles Quaritch was certain—these were absolutely not forces from Earth.

If the United Earth Government possessed such strength, the Na’vi would have been wiped out long ago—why would things have dragged on until now?

Even the enhanced bodies of the Avatars, several times stronger than normal humans, were being subdued by men who looked like they wore old-fashioned military coats. He had thought only the heavy-armored warriors could restrain them.

A sudden thought flashed through his mind—human body enhancement.

The Gothic warships, the armor, the power armor, the exoskeletons, the long coats—it all looked like some bizarre patchwork army, yet it was overwhelming.

“General Durandal, congratulations. The takeover is complete, with virtually no casualties. The base, personnel, and supplies have been preserved to the greatest extent possible.”

Agravain placed a hand to his chest as Durandal approached in her silver-white armor.

“With absolute superiority, there is little to praise,” Durandal replied with a faint smile, shaking her head.

Orbital bombardment alone was enough to terrify most civilizations.

And when backed with the display of fleets and armies… against the RDA—a corporation whose employees had no true loyalty—it was no surprise. Even sovereign nations would surrender under such pressure, unless they were fools.

“So, the only thing left is to deal with these aliens called the Na’vi?” Standing at Durandal’s side, Agravain lifted his gaze to the sky, where the sight of descending orbital drop-pods and landing gunships was like a rain of falling stars.

No matter how many times he witnessed it, the spectacle remained overwhelming.

“No. The most crucial task now is to deal with the planet itself.”

Pointing to the ground beneath them, Durandal’s expression grew layered with meaning before her form blurred into a streak of blue light, soaring skyward.

…

Awakening.

Jake Sully felt as though he had dreamed an endless nightmare. In it, he relived the loss of everything—his people, his family, his children—all butchered by vile thieves.

Cough… cough…

Jake spat blood, chest heavy, breath ragged. With difficulty, he whispered the names of those dearest to him: “Neytiri… Neteyam, Lo’ak, Tuk, Kiri, Spider…”

Huff… huff…

He opened his mouth to roar, but no sound came. Only the rasp of a broken bellows escaped him. The moment he forced his body, another surge of blood filled his throat.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the twisted, broken body of his direhorse, pierced through by countless jagged shards of stone and splinters.

It had shielded him. Jake remembered the collapse of the floating mountain as the shockwave struck, sorrow flooding him. He stroked the beast’s face, then struggled to drag his battered body free.

At last, he crawled out from under the direhorse’s corpse and looked around.

All was ruin—Hallelujah Mountain lay shattered.

Fragments of colossal stone stretched to the horizon, the ground littered with gleaming deposits of Unobtanium. His body screamed with pain: his right hand and left foot were gone, his abdomen ripped open by a massive wound.

Everywhere his gaze fell was desolation. Blue-white crystalline particles drifted down like frozen sparks. Towering infernos that had raged into the heavens now guttered out. On the charred ground, faint smoke and sparks still rose.

Perhaps it was only an instant—or perhaps centuries had passed. The endless roar of falling “meteors” resounded without pause. Engines, treads, hydraulics thundered across the land, drowning even the wind. The ground shook ceaselessly, as though stirred by titanic footsteps.

Jake forced his eyes wide. When the steel-clad behemoth finally crested the horizon, his mind rang with a deafening buzz. The world spun.

What was that…?

A colossal storm of dust towered into the skies, immovable even before the wind. A flood of high-powered searchlights blazed. Grim cannon muzzles jutted from thick armor plating. A moving fortress, radiating murderous intent. A Titan…?

Somehow, the word surfaced in Jake’s mind.

Above, the lances of light had ceased striking the horizon. But the monstrous shadows blanketing the world told a crueler truth.

“Bastards—! Get your filthy hands off my mother!!”

It was Lo’ak’s voice!

Joy flashed across Jake’s face—then, instantly, dread clenched his heart.

“Oh? An alien whelp who understands English—?”

“An English-speaking Na’vi? Hah! Seems we’ve caught ourselves a big prize! Kill them!”

Then—

THUD! THUD-THUD! THUD-THUD!

Dull gunfire echoed through the ruins.

“Lo’ak! Run!!” Neytiri’s scream tore through the air.

VRRRR-BZZZT! CRACK!

The snarl of chainswords, the thud of rounds tearing flesh and stone.

Hurry! Hurry!!

Bloodied and broken, Jake Sully clawed his way up through rubble and corpses, his eyes widening in despair at the sight before him.

The wreckage of the floating mountains was strewn with the dead. Survivors screamed amid blood-soaked stone, but what awaited them was no healing—

Blood stained the rubble everywhere, fresh and bright crimson, glaringly vivid against the ruins.

The stench of charred flesh mingled with blood, filling the air and stabbing into Jake Sully’s senses.

There was no doubt—this had been a massacre.

Scattered across the scorched wasteland were thousands of his people, hurled and broken by the orbital bombardment’s shockwaves. Among them lay the corpses of direhorses, heavy-armored sturmbeests, hammerhead titanotheres, and countless other Pandora creatures, all lying lifeless in pools of blood.

“Sturmbeests… right? According to the downloaded RDA database, these things can run up to ninety-five kilometers per hour… What do you think about bringing one back as a trophy?”

“Not worth it. Better to save up for a Danger Beast mount—that’d be way more impressive.”

“Bah, killjoy. Wonder if Pandora creatures taste any good… Anyway, the blue-skinned aliens here are cleared. Five beheadings for me. You?”

“Not much, three beheadings. Plus two blue brats.”

“Ugh, unlucky. Only two beheadings for me.”

…

Imperial auxiliaries in bright red greatcoats laughed as they went about their work. With long rifles fitted with monomolecular bayonets, they stabbed the hearts of fallen Na’vi one by one, then drew blades to slit throats and hack off heads.

One Na’vi feigned death, springing up in a desperate attempt to seize a human hostage. The next instant, he was booted back into the dirt, riddled with bullets until unrecognizable.

Their casual, mocking disregard for life made Jake Sully seethe with rage—especially when he saw among the Na’vi heads strapped to the auxiliaries’ mech-controllers… Neytiri’s.

“No—!!”

In that instant, Jake lost all reason. Eyes bloodshot, he seized the weapon he had scavenged from an RDA mercenary.

“I’ll kill you all—!!”

RATATATATATAT—!

“Tactical evasion!”

“Enemy sighted! Single hostile, three o’clock!”

“Concentrated fire! Fireteam—grenades, three-round rapid volley!”

The moment Jake revealed himself, the auxiliaries displayed their military discipline. Their maneuvers were sharp and precise: locating him by the gunfire, raising energy shields, laying down suppressive fire, and signaling their grenadiers to hammer his position.

It was no surprise. Already weakened and bleeding heavily, Jake’s sluggish movements betrayed him. He was dropped within seconds by a volley of shots.

Do not underestimate these men, drawn from the most hardened conscripts of each Imperial world. Their marksmanship was basic training.

“He still dared fight back? Three of you—go. Careful. Don’t get sloppy. Take his head!”

“Yes, sir!” ×3

CRUNCH-CRUNCH!

Boots ground against rubble, metal gear clattering as three auxiliaries advanced.

“Wait. This blue-skin has five fingers… Captain, he’s not Na’vi—he’s an Avatar!”

“Really? Confirm facial features.”

“…Confirmed. Avatar—Jake Sully!”

“This fortune belongs to us all! Quickly, report to command!”

—

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