UNSC: Who the hell are you guys (Night Lords' main fleet)?
Also, why the hell are the Covenant here too? Wait… no way… are you actually defecting to the enemy over a misfire?!
Night Lords: Huh? Isn't this supposed to be the military stronghold of the United Earth Government (UEG)?
Why are Covenant warships here too? And they arrived at nearly the exact same time as us… could it be that the UEG is surrendering? Or worse—did they detect our warp signature and decide to side with the aliens first, planning an ambush to take us out?
Covenant: The coordinates match the probe's data and align with the intel purchased from human insurrectionists in the Outer Colonies. The UNSC Navy? Ah, an old acquaintance—very familiar. No doubt, this is Reach.
But… those enormous monstrosities tearing out of slipspace across the planet's orbital ring—what are they? Their sheer scale is beyond comprehension. Are they here to seize the gods' (Forerunners') sacred relics too?
Beyond that possibility, the High Prophets had no other explanations.
With all three factions consumed by their own suspicions, their communication channels surged beyond maximum capacity, overwhelming internal transmissions with confusion.
...
From the rift of shimmering violet-red energy, a fleet of overwhelming size emerged, and within it, the most conspicuous vessel was an immense celestial-class warship that had yet to fully exit the warp.
Nightfall.
This warship rivaled the flagship of the Second Legion's Punishers, Wrath of the Empire. Spanning over 300 kilometers in length, it bore the unmistakable design of an Imperial Navy heavy battleship.
Adorned with the opulent colors of the Eighth Legion, its hull gleamed with gold, silver, and sapphire-inlaid engravings. Streaks of lightning etched across its midnight-blue armor, marking it as a vessel of the Night Lords.
The prow of Nightfall was bristling with an array of lance batteries, while macro-cannons, railguns, plasma cannons, and torpedo arrays lined every inch of its frame. The sheer weight of its firepower rivaled an entire fleet, capable of delivering planet-obliterating strikes.
...
Aboard the Nightfall, Main Bridge – Secure War Room
Unlike the warship's lavish exterior, the chamber within was stark—black walls that absorbed both light and sound, devoid of unnecessary decoration. A crystal chandelier provided the only illumination, casting its glow over a single imposing chair, a modest meal, and a polished command table.
A towering figure, clad in midnight-blue armor, stood motionless. His mere presence was suffocating, radiating an aura of raw annihilation.
His hands were encased in master-crafted lightning claws, weapons imbued with destructive force beyond measure.
At his side stood the commanding officers of the Night Lords' grand battalions and the Legion's Honor Guard, all maintaining a solemn silence.
His gaze never wavered from the holographic command display, yet his voice—raspy and ice-cold—filled the chamber.
"The Covenant fleet. Why are they at Reach?"
After a long, contemplative pause, Konrad Curze sneered. "So… it's the fleet of the Prophet of Truth?"
His deduction came not from speculation, but from the countless interrogations, tortures, and soul-extractions performed on Covenant prisoners.
Among them were fleets such as the Fleet of Righteous Purpose, the Fleet of Sacred Consecration, the Fleet of Inner Knowledge, the Fleet of Furious Redemption, the Fleet of Glorious Interdiction, and the Fleet of Particular Justice—the latter being the primary force responsible for the Covenant's campaign against Reach.
Additionally, he had learned of the three major High Prophet escort fleets guarding their hierarchs.
And now, it was time to act.
For the Covenant, fleet designations were no secret—any high-ranking alien within their hierarchy would be familiar with them.
Each fleet bore a distinct insignia, unrecognizable to most outsiders. But Konrad Curze was not most outsiders. He not only recognized the insignia—he knew it well. That was why he was so surprised. The supreme emblem adorning this fleet unmistakably belonged to the Prophet of Truth.
"Why would one of the three High Prophets personally risk coming to the front lines of a war? These cowardly, scheming, long-necked xenos—when did they ever have the guts for this?"
His voice dripped with disdain and contempt for the San'Shyuum.
"Legion Master, if they've delivered their heads to us on a silver platter, wouldn't it be rude to refuse?" a battalion commander remarked.
"The issue is that our original plan was to coordinate with our reconnaissance forces, capturing Reach with minimal damage, minimal losses, and in the shortest possible time—crippling the entirety of the UNSC's central command structure."
Pausing to organize his thoughts, another battalion commander asked, "Now that the Covenant has inserted themselves into the equation, do we proceed as planned? Or do we take out the xeno scum first? Or perhaps… do both at the same time?"
"Is that even a question?"
Konrad Curze's dark, flame-lit eyes swept across the room. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at his lips.
"Only the weak choose between options. I take them all."
...
Reach – Spartan Operations Division
The blaring of alarm sirens echoed through the base.
"What's with those explosions? What's happening outside?"
"What? We're not allowed to leave the operations center? What does that even mean?"
"Not only are we being disarmed, but you're arresting the Doctor too? Hey, soldier, you do realize joking about this has consequences, right?"
Having removed the external plating of his Mjolnir armor, Spartan-134—dressed only in a black titanium-nanocomposite undersuit—shoved the UNSC Defense Force lieutenant colonel who had arrived to deliver Parangosky's orders.
Shortly after the base alarm sounded, the Spartans stationed in the Operations Division had immediately begun suiting up, ready to assess the situation. But before they could act, an entire unit of UNSC Defense Forces had surrounded the facility.
They claimed to be acting under orders from Fleet Command's upper echelon—assuming direct control over Spartan Operations.
Hot-tempered as ever, Spartan-134 had immediately blocked the soldiers attempting to arrest Dr. Halsey, forcing them back with his sheer presence alone.
Now standing with his chest pressed against the barrel of an officer's sidearm, he voiced his outrage. To the Spartans, Dr. Halsey's importance was beyond question.
Behind him, Spartan-028, Spartan-125, and numerous other Spartans from various teams rose to their feet, forming an impenetrable blockade. Though no words were spoken, their stance was clear.
"Please do not make this difficult. Admiral Parangosky's orders are absolute—Dr. Catherine Elizabeth Halsey is to be stripped of all duties and placed under immediate arrest!"
Click.
The UNSC lieutenant colonel, unwavering, chambered a round in his sidearm and pressed it harder against Spartan-134's chest, his voice sharp.
"This is insubordination! Move aside now, or I have authorization to shoot!"
Feeling the slight pressure against his armor, Spartan-134 smirked.
He wasn't afraid in the slightest.
A small handgun? Even without their power armor's outer shell, Spartans had nothing to fear from such weapons. Much like the Astartes' armor approved by Selene, the Spartans' current Mjolnir armor consisted of both internal and external components.
The outer plating and helmet were composed of layered alloys, while the interface between the armor shell and the wearer included a titanium-nanocomposite undersuit. Additionally, a molecularly woven capillary system—referred to as "synthetic skin"—lined the interior.
This lithium-niobate polymer layer not only significantly reduced impact force from ballistic hits but also, under the control of its onboard computer, could regulate temperature and even adjust density to adapt to extreme battlefield conditions.
Amusingly, despite his best efforts, the lieutenant colonel couldn't even shove the Spartan back. Instead, he found himself effortlessly pushed away.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Furious, the lieutenant colonel emptied an entire magazine into Spartan-134's chest. When the towering warrior remained utterly unshaken, his frustration boiled over. "Damn it! Are you not afraid of a court-martial? Stand down!"
Without their full Mjolnir exoskeleton, Spartans were still vulnerable to headshots, but the officer wasn't stupid—he had no reason to escalate the situation unnecessarily. Every Spartan was an invaluable UNSC military asset.
Moreover, the Spartans weren't attacking. They were simply standing their ground in passive resistance. The lieutenant colonel had no desire to make the situation worse.
"We'll stand down. But first, you need to explain why you're arresting Dr. Halsey. You're asking us to comply without giving us a reason. We need to hear it from Admiral Parangosky herself."
Spartan-134's voice was rigid and uncompromising.
The lieutenant colonel's face twisted with frustration. The air between them grew thick with tension before he finally lowered his weapon and signaled his men to do the same. "I don't have the authority to answer that. I need to contact the Admiral."
He activated his communicator, requesting direct contact with Parangosky. But on the other end—only static and the distant echoes of bolter fire.
His expression turned to one of alarm.
The order had been given, but without Parangosky's confirmation, he was now trapped in an impossible situation. Advancing wasn't an option. Retreating wasn't either. He was caught in limbo.
...
Inside the Spartan Operations Division Conference Room
Elsewhere in the base, Master Chief sat across from Dr. Catherine Halsey, fully clad in his green Mjolnir armor.
"Doctor, you must have made some kind of deal with Nathaniel…" His tone wasn't accusatory, but the certainty in his voice was absolute.
"I did." Halsey admitted it without hesitation.
"Why?" Master Chief's voice remained level.
"John, you are the finest soldier I've ever seen. I know you swore to fight for humanity—to protect it, no matter the cost. But… John, humanity is not defined by the bureaucrats and parasites in the UNSC. They are dead weight, dragging human progress backward."
Master Chief remained silent, offering no judgment.
"I refuse to watch my Spartans die in this meaningless war. They are my life's work. You, most of all."
"I do not fear death."
"But I do not want you to die."
"John, if you still acknowledge me as your superior, then stay out of this."
Halsey's voice carried a rare, genuine sincerity.
Few knew Master Chief better than she did. If he saw someone as his superior, he would obey them without question. If they were his teammate, he would lay down his life for them. But if they became a threat—he would stop at nothing to eliminate them.
Exploiting Admiral Parangosky's reckless orders and her own authority as the head of Spartan Operations, Halsey had successfully kept the Master Chief contained. Nathaniel, after all, was human—not an alien. That distinction alone was enough to hold John back, if only temporarily.
"This conflict will soon be over. A new order will rise across the galaxy. Everything will fall under a single rule. The Covenant will be dealt with—I promise." Halsey's voice was resolute.
"..."
Taking his silence as acceptance, Halsey turned toward the entrance of the operations center. "I am assuming command of this situation. Lieutenant Colonel, return to your post—regardless of the current circumstances."
"You—" The leading UNSC officer instinctively raised his sidearm at the sight of Halsey.
At that moment—
Beep! Beep! Beep!
"Attention all personnel: Reach orbital defense platforms report that the planet is under attack—Covenant fleet detected. Condition: maximum alert. All personnel, prepare for combat. I repeat: Reach is under attack..."
"The Covenant?"
Every Spartan and UNSC soldier in the room simultaneously turned their eyes toward Halsey.
Halsey sighed, exhaling a breath of quiet resignation. "How inconvenient."
Before she could say more, a towering figure in green armor ghosted past her.
"John, come back alive," she murmured.
The Chief, gripping his MA5 assault rifle, simply nodded and strode toward the exit without a word.
Clap!
Halsey's hands came together, her expression severe. "New orders. Spartans, prepare for deployment. Mission objective: eliminate every Covenant lifeform on sight."
"Yes, ma'am!" ×N
Instantly, the entire Spartan Operations Division burst into action. Regardless of whether they were from Spartan-II or Spartan-III programs, each warrior swiftly donned their full Mjolnir armor, locked and loaded their weapons, and sprinted toward the deployment bays.
Standing at the threshold, Halsey watched them like a mother sending her children to war. "Under all circumstances, I want you to protect your own lives."
...
Meanwhile, in orbit, the Covenant fleet's slipspace rupture had begun to stabilize. But from the violet-red reality rift, the Night Lords' main battle fleet continued pouring into realspace.
And the battle had begun.
From the gunports of the Imperial Navy's warships, thousands of blinding lances erupted in unison. The searing brilliance of their bombardment consumed all other colors, setting the void ablaze with light like miniature suns.
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