What is that…? A barrier capable of sealing communications, deceiving vision, and projecting illusions?
Gazing at the ominous violet-black energy field, the Prophet of the Covenant High Council instantly realized its nature. Judging by the ceremonial headdress adorning its bowed head, it belonged to a middle-ranking member of the Covenant's ruling San'Shyuum.
As a San'Shyuum, while its physical prowess was nowhere near that of the Jiralhanae, its knowledge far surpassed that of those brutish, four-limbed apes. A dreadful premonition gripped it—this strange barrier had sealed off the sanctum entirely!
"The Sangheili are useless! The Jiralhanae are useless! They're all useless!"
The Prophet furiously screamed in its mind, shifting all blame onto the two species responsible for the defense of the Holy Sanctum.
Yet, it refused to acknowledge its own kind's scheming. The San'Shyuum's greed, their ceaseless manipulation of the Sangheili, and their attempts to replace them with the Jiralhanae had all led to this disastrous failure in High Charity's uppermost defenses.
Not long ago, the Prophet of Regret had reached a certain agreement with the Prophet of Truth and was the first to leave, taking not only its own Sangheili fleet but also a significant portion of the Jiralhanae forces that were under the Prophet of Truth's command.
Shortly after, the Prophet of Truth, who had been overseeing the battle for Reach, also began mobilizing its fleet. However, before leaving, it had orchestrated yet another political maneuver.
At this point, the Prophet of Regret had gained enough influence to surpass the Prophet of Truth, becoming the most powerful among the three High Prophets. The Prophet of Mercy, ever the opportunist, once again aligned itself with the stronger faction and agreed to the Prophet of Truth's proposal to weaken Regret's forces.
Regret had grown increasingly reliant on the Sangheili.
And with the prolonged war against humanity, the independent-minded Sangheili had started to see through the San'Shyuum's deception, straining their alliance.
Fearing the eventual exposure of their fabricated lies, the High Prophets decided that a preemptive strike was preferable to waiting for the inevitable reckoning.
They would exploit the Sangheili for one final task—leading the assault on the human homeworld, Earth. At the same time, they would cripple the Prophet of Regret's influence, ensuring the San'Shyuum's absolute dominance over the Covenant.
Three goals, one masterstroke.
With this plan in mind, the Prophet of Truth departed, leaving the Prophet of Mercy to enact their scheme against the Sangheili.
The excuse? The Sangheili had failed in their military leadership against humanity.
Additionally, the vast territories of the Covenant Empire, guarded by Supreme Fleet Master (or Imperial Admiral) Xytan 'Jar Wattinree, had suffered repeated incursions by elite human forces—an undeniable failure.
Although the Sangheili councilors fiercely opposed this decision and sought to contact Xytan 'Jar Wattinree for clarification, there was just one problem…
By then, Xytan 'Jar Wattinree had already sworn loyalty to Selene. What explanation could he possibly give?
Instead, through a live holo-transmission, Xytan 'Jar Wattinree openly ridiculed the San'Shyuum councilors, condemning them as "incompetent," "ignorant of military affairs," and "meddlesome fools who interfere with strategy through reverse micromanagement."
Thus, in a fit of anger, the Prophet of Mercy unilaterally decreed that the Jiralhanae would now stand as equals to the Sangheili, sharing the role of protectors and military leaders of the Covenant.
This decree enraged the Sangheili councilors, who immediately threatened to withdraw from the High Council.
Amidst this chaos and fierce political struggle, the Sangheili Honor Guards—responsible for protecting the High Prophets—resigned en masse under the leadership of their own councilors.
Since the San'Shyuum had decided to elevate the Jiralhanae as their new Honor Guard, the Sangheili had only one response:
"Fine! We refuse to serve!"
While the High Prophets had intended a gradual transition, maintaining the Sangheili Honor Guard for the time being, the proud Sangheili refused to share their prestigious role with what they considered honorless, barbaric beasts. To them, serving alongside the Jiralhanae was worse than death.
The newly appointed Jiralhanae Honor Guards, unfamiliar with the inner sanctum's layout, had yet to fully replace their predecessors. As a result, a security vacuum formed in High Charity's uppermost defenses.
Furthermore, with two of the three High Prophets having departed with their grand fleets, High Charity's defenses were at their weakest in centuries.
And this was precisely what the Empire had been waiting for. With the Covenant's defenses riddled with vulnerabilities, countless opportunities presented themselves.
...
Cough… cough…
If I can just get outside… summon reinforcements… these wretched heretics will die!
Fueled by sheer survival instinct, the wounded Prophet dragged its bloodied form toward the exit, leaving a crimson trail across the pristine floor.
But just as its trembling fingers reached out—
Shing!
Splurt!
A fountain of blood erupted. The outstretched hand fell limp, accompanied by the headless corpse collapsing onto the floor, spasming momentarily before going still.
From the shadows emerged the executioner—a woman enveloped in a sleek, black orichalcum-alloy nano-suit.
Her figure… tsk...
Despite her strikingly alluring curves, not an inch of skin was exposed. The Gauss-separation pistol holstered at her thigh emitted a faint glow, while her power-arm blade, exuding a corrosive disintegration field, extended from her wrist—a clear indication of her affiliation with the Sacred Selene Empire.
Unlike most Imperial operatives, her attire bore almost no insignia. The only identifying marks were the skull emblem on her forehead and the 'I'-shaped scales insignia embedded in the center of her chest.
Anyone familiar with the Empire knew what that symbol represented.
The Imperial Inquisition—Assassin Corps.
The Assassin Corps was a vast division, subdivided into specialized branches. According to rumors circulating within the Empire's upper echelons, some of these included:
"Veil" – Masters of stealth and assassination. "Judgment" – Experts in long-range sniping. "Annihilation" – Specializing in the complete eradication of entire bloodlines. "Venom" – Masters of slow, excruciating deaths. "Blank" – Specialists in human-based interrogation techniques.
Whether these rumors were true or not, Imperial bureaucrats dared not ask.
After all, those who inquired too much tended to die mysteriously—or simply vanish without a trace.
—Drip… drip…—
Holding the still-dripping severed head, the woman gracefully stepped back into the shadows. Perhaps she had left—or perhaps she still lingered, silently awaiting her next target.
...
Meanwhile, at the very summit of High Charity's "Mushroom Cap", deep within the Holy Sanctum—
One of the three grand palaces closest to the Keyship—the Prophet of Mercy's residence.
The palace's architecture once radiated with soft purple, pink, and blue luminescent metal walls, adorned with insectoid-inspired structures.
But now, that was a thing of the past.
Darkness consumed everything.
Every trace of light had been devoured.
Thick darkness seeped into every corner of the palace, following their footsteps like a creeping tide. Countless ominous figures loomed within the shadows, radiating an aura of despair and death.
Perhaps, in some sense, they were despair itself—beings far more terrifying than any mere collection of horror-induced descriptions.
Silent, eerie, merciless, and brutal—these words best described the massacre unfolding at the hands of the Imperial assassins.
No explosions. No alarms. Only flashes of green lightning-like beams that disintegrated their targets on a molecular level, breaking atomic bonds and tearing matter apart.
"ROAR! AARGH...!"
The agonized howls of warriors experiencing their flesh corroding and bones crumbling filled the air.
The newly appointed Jiralhanae Honor Guards barely had time to register their unseen attackers before they were decapitated, dismembered, dissolved, and slaughtered.
Their energy shields were useless against the silent Gauss-separation beams and specialized power blades. They might as well have been wielding paper-thin defenses.
The once-mighty gravity thrones of the High Prophets lay overturned, their ceremonial headdresses crushed underfoot. The Prophet of Mercy lay sprawled on the floor, coughing up blood.
"Guh—! Summon reinforcements! NOW! Damn it—why now of all times?!"
Gone was the dignity of a High Prophet. His once-lavish robes now resembled tattered rags, burnt and fused with his scorched flesh, revealing horrifying wounds beneath.
One of his legs had been completely dissolved, leaving behind only exposed bone. He could do nothing but clutch at the remains of his ruined limb in agony.
As he watched his guards fall one by one, the Prophet of Mercy realized that escape was no longer an option.
Shing—BOOM!
With a swift motion, a power blade was yanked from the corpse of a Jiralhanae Honor Guard and flung across the chamber, impaling the last remaining "Brute Chieftain" straight through its grotesque skull.
Silence followed.
Aside from the Prophet of Mercy's ragged breathing, the only sounds left were the drip-drip of pooling blood and the sickening sizzle of dissolving flesh.
"Cough... Wh-Who... who are you...?"
The Prophet of Mercy, barely clinging to consciousness, stared warily at the surrounding figures. The leader of the group bore a gemstone embedded into the back of their gauntlet, emitting a violet-black glow that pulsed in sync with the devouring darkness.
"You won't escape. Even if you kill me, you—"
The assassins paid his words no mind.
"Target confirmed."
A cold, iron grip wrapped around the Prophet's throat, hoisting him into the air.
"Khh..."
Face-to-face with the assassin's blood-red cybernetic eyes, the Prophet of Mercy felt an overwhelming force constricting his windpipe. A suffocating sensation spread through his body as he flailed desperately, terror filling his gaze.
"Confirmation complete—Prophet of Mercy secured."
Their voices were cold and devoid of emotion, like a frigid wind howling through the depths of hell.
"Mission accomplished. Don't kill him—orders from above. He's still useful."
A sharp pain shot through the Prophet's neck as a cool liquid was injected into his bloodstream. His vision blurred, and darkness swallowed him whole.
"Command, target neutralized. The package is secured. Preparations complete."
At that moment—
BZZZZT!
As reality's veil was torn apart, Selene emerged, leading Halsey and the UNSC personnel alongside Xytan 'Jar Wattinree and the Sangheili elites. What greeted them was a scene of utter carnage within the Prophet's Holy Sanctum.
"This… is the Sanctum?" Xytan 'Jar Wattinree's eyes widened as he scanned his surroundings, his four-part mandibles trembling in shock.
As Supreme Fleet Master—second only to the High Prophets—he had often visited the Prophet's sanctum for reports and discussions. Yet, the sight before him was beyond comprehension.
Because he lacked Selene's identification authorization, his vision could pierce beyond the special energy veil concealing most of the Holy Sanctum.
Inside—corpses littered the ground. Outside—everything remained undisturbed.
Even considering the recent shifts in power between the Sangheili and the Jiralhanae, creating gaps in the Prophet's security, such a massacre occurring without any disturbance beyond the veil meant it had been executed in an impossibly short span of time.
Even with a change in guard rotations, this level of precision was beyond comprehension.
"Your Majesty!" ×N
In the next moment, shadows writhed and twisted. Under the wary gazes of Halsey and the others—shff! shff! shff!—
A group of assassins, exuding an overwhelming aura of bloodshed and death, materialized beside Selene, kneeling on one knee in unison.
"Mm." Selene gave a slight nod and gestured for them to rise. "Bring forth the Prophet of Mercy."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
After issuing her command, Selene turned and noticed Xytan 'Jar Wattinree's dazed expression. Narrowing her eyes slightly, she spoke, "Wattinree, sentimentality? There will be plenty of time for that later. For now, focus—such a perfect opportunity does not come often."
"No, my god."
Xytan 'Jar Wattinree shook his head, then knelt on one knee with unwavering determination. "It is not sentimentality."
"I merely reflect on the bitter irony—this place was built by the Sangheili at the dawn of the Covenant, forged in faith. Yet, the San'Shyuum have deceived us, and now they seek to purge us."
His gaze swept across the lifeless bodies of the fallen San'Shyuum and Jiralhanae guards before letting out a cold chuckle. "Had Your Majesty not intervened, it would likely have been Sangheili corpses filling this hall instead."
The Empire had long uncovered the High Prophets' collusion with the Jiralhanae through psychic extraction, and thus Xytan 'Jar Wattinree had learned the depths of their treachery.
"I see…" Selene tilted her head playfully and winked. "Are you confident?"
"Once the Sangheili know the truth, they will set things right," Xytan 'Jar Wattinree affirmed.
Selene's expression turned serious as she continued, "Remember—soon, the main forces of the Budo Legion will land on High Charity. My assassins have secured all the High Prophets. Any who resist…"
"I will personally sever their heads!" Xytan 'Jar Wattinree vowed without hesitation.
"Excellent." Pleased, Selene waved her hand and added, "Take him with you. He might be useful."
In response, the assassin carrying the unconscious Prophet of Mercy stepped forward.
"Do not disappoint me, Wattinree… my vassal." Selene's final word carried extra weight.
"By your command!"
With a final bow, Xytan 'Jar Wattinree turned, leading his Sangheili warriors beyond the energy veil.
Watching them disappear, Halsey rose from beside a Prophet's corpse and asked, "Your Majesty, what now…?"
"The Forerunners. The Keyship."
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