"Well, well, look who it is—Supreme Fleet Master Xytan 'Jar Wattinree! What wind has blown you back here? Weren't you off hunting down those human stragglers lurking along the border?"
"Not even a word of notice upon your return? Had we known, we could have prepared a grand victory ceremony in your honor!"
Despite the polite phrasing, the deep, rumbling laughter of the Jiralhanae betrayed its mockery. Towering over three meters tall, its massive form loomed over Xytan 'Jar Wattinree, its expression filled with undisguised contempt. "Or perhaps… you've come crawling back to beg the Prophets for reinforcements?"
The Jiralhanae in question was among the largest of its kind, even by Astartes standards. Its grayish-blue skin was covered in thick, frost-white fur, and its bulging muscles resembled chiseled marble.
Behind it, a squad of high-ranking Jiralhanae Chieftain guards, clad in elaborate golden-bronze armor with spiked V-shaped headdresses, erupted into laughter.
At the sound, Xytan 'Jar Wattinree withdrew his gaze, his four mandibles twitching with distaste—as if merely speaking to a Jiralhanae was beneath him. "Tartarus..."
This pale-furred Jiralhanae was none other than Tartarus, the current military leader of the Jiralhanae forces within the Covenant. Recently elevated by the Prophet of Mercy to the rank of Fleet Commander, he was the newly anointed Jiralhanae Chieftain of the Covenant's military.
Among his kind—who were notorious for their aggression and impulsive brutality—Tartarus was one of the rare few capable of strategic thought and self-control.
"Do you know what you remind me of?" Xytan 'Jar Wattinree's gaze flickered over the Jiralhanae guards behind Tartarus before he sneered. "A dog."
"You were just given a scrap of authority, and already you come scampering here with your tail wagging, eager to please your San'Shyuum masters? Instead of groveling for favor, you should spend your time cultivating something your kind sorely lacks—honor."
With that, Xytan 'Jar Wattinree stepped aside, clearing the path before him. "Go on then, pitiful Chieftain. You were on your way to lick the boots of the San'Shyuum, weren't you?"
"You—!" Tartarus' guards bristled at the insult, some stepping forward in open aggression, their hands reaching for their weapons.
"Rrrah!" But Tartarus halted them with a growl.
He took a deep breath, visibly restraining himself. Even he nearly lost his composure at the Sangheili's arrogant demeanor, but he forced himself to remain calm. "Sangheili—hold your damnable, repugnant arrogance."
"The Great Journey has begun. We, the Jiralhanae, have become the Prophets' chosen protectors! You merely had a head start. Let's see who has the last laugh."
"Oh? Is that so?"
Xytan 'Jar Wattinree barely seemed to register Tartarus' words. He walked past him, utterly indifferent, his deep voice trailing behind. "And what makes you so certain the Great Journey is still necessary?"
"Xytan 'Jar Wattinree! Do you even realize what you're saying?! That is heresy—!"
"Now."
Zzt!
Shlkk!
Without hesitation, the Sangheili warriors raised their plasma pistols and ignited their twin-bladed energy swords, striking with cold efficiency.
Tartarus' instincts screamed at him—this was premeditated!
No wonder Xytan 'Jar Wattinree had returned so suddenly and without warning.
It was a coup.
The realization crashed upon him like a tidal wave.
The Prophet of Truth and the Prophet of Regret had already departed with their fleets, leaving High Charity vulnerable. And now, seeing Xytan 'Jar Wattinree returning from the High Council's chambers…
Tartarus' heart sank.
"You—!"
As he watched his guards fall, blocking the blows meant for him, a shadow emerged from the darkness.
"Humans?!"
Ignoring his shock, Tartarus raised his gravity hammer with one hand and swung it fiercely toward Xytan 'Jar Wattinree, roaring, "Don't waste time! Contact the Prophet of Mercy! Summon reinforcements!"
"No, you won't be seeing that deceiver again. Let me enlighten you, pitiful Jiralhanae—we have reached the hour of reckoning for the Great Journey."
Stepping over the fallen body of a slain guard, Xytan 'Jar Wattinree brandished his crimson twin-bladed energy sword.
"You assassinated the Prophet?! Damn you, Sangheili! You dare call yourself honorable while conspiring with human heretics?!"
"Hmph, remember this—your annihilation is the will of my god."
Shlkk!
Boom! Boom! Boom!
—
Drip… drip…
At the summit of High Charity's "Mushroom Cap", the residence of the San'Shyuum High Prophets and the seat of the Covenant High Council, the scenery was unexpectedly serene.
Lush exotic flora lined the pathways, cultivated purely for ornamental purposes. Various domesticated alien creatures roamed freely, their aggressive instincts long since bred out.
Yet, the moment they caught Selene's scent, they let out terrified whimpers, shrinking into the corners, trembling uncontrollably. Some were on the verge of soiling themselves, but after a brief, indifferent glance from Selene, they cowered back in silence.
Strolling through the area felt like wandering through a vast, foreign botanical garden—except for the countless corpses.
The handiwork of the Imperial Assassin Corps was unmistakable along the sanctum's sprawling pathways.
Shattered armor and weapon fragments littered the ground. Fallen bodies had been mercilessly eviscerated by nightmarish precision, their mutilated flesh forming grotesque pools of blood along the pathways.
The sheer brutality of it all was staggering.
Yet, for those present, such sights were hardly unsettling. Everyone here had blood on their hands. Even Dr. Halsey and the Spartan Operations Division's technical staff were no strangers to dissecting alien cadavers. They had witnessed far more gruesome scenes—this was nothing.
As for the Master Chief, the Spartans, and the UNSC officers? They were long past being fazed by such carnage.
Halsey curiously observed her surroundings without a hint of discomfort. To her, this was humanity's first time stepping foot onto a pristine, intact Covenant installation—let alone the heart of its most sacred domain.
The interior of the High Charity Sanctum was a grand expanse, its high domed ceilings supported by four massive petal-like barriers, primarily adorned in shades of purple, blue, and silver. Soft decorative lights lined the surfaces, creating a solemn, cathedral-like atmosphere.
Merely walking within this space instilled an involuntary sense of reverence.
It felt almost like stepping into a sacred temple.
At the moment, since High Charity was neither in high-speed transit nor preparing for slipspace travel, the petal-like barriers were not fully sealed, leaving vast gaps open.
Looking up, one could gaze directly into the vast, pristine starfield.
The walls on either side of the pathways were adorned with countless intricate murals, each depicting legendary tales from the San'Shyuum's history—alongside numerous depictions of the Sangheili's own historical epics.
As for the Unggoy, Kig-Yar, Yanme'e, and even the Jiralhanae?
They were deemed unworthy of leaving their legacy in such a sacred and revered place.
After all, the Covenant was founded as a ceasefire agreement between two warring factions.
Selene studied the murals, deciphering their depictions.
The San'Shyuum's journey to the stars—the War of Wills. The Covenant's founding—the War of Beginnings. The Age of Conversion—the Covenant's expansion wars. The Age of Doubt—the suppression of the Unggoy Rebellion. And the most recent era, the Age of Reclamation—the Great Journey and the supposed divine salvation.
Clearly, the San'Shyuum glorified their history, taking immense pride in it.
"The War of Wills, the War of Schism… who, in the end, was truly the savior of their race? Who knows?" Selene chuckled, shifting her gaze away.
These murals proclaimed an ancient, noble legacy, but from what Selene had gathered by extracting the consciousness and memories of countless San'Shyuum she had incinerated—anyone who believed them was a fool.
In 2200 BCE, before the Covenant was even established, the San'Shyuum were still confined to their homeworld. It was during this time that they discovered the fallen Forerunner Keyship, embedded in their planet's surface.
This discovery split the San'Shyuum into two factions.
One group, known as the Reformists, sought to enter the vessel and study its technology. However, the majority of the San'Shyuum, the Conservatives, deemed the Keyship a sacred relic that should remain untouched, refusing to defile its holiness.
And so, a civil war erupted.
The Reformists, though technologically superior thanks to their access to Forerunner weaponry and knowledge, were vastly outnumbered. The Conservatives, despite relying only on their own technology, held a decisive numerical advantage.
During the conflict, approximately a thousand Reformists managed to seize control of the Keyship. Though enraged, the Conservatives were unable to act further—stopping them would require desecrating the very relic they swore to protect.
Ultimately, the Reformists launched the Keyship into orbit, securing victory in the War of Wills, leaving behind a final transmission from the Conservative faction:
"Your blasphemy against the gods will bring a curse upon you."
Years later, after forming the Covenant, the Reformists realized their population was too small to sustain itself. In 850 BCE, they returned to their homeworld in search of more women to bolster their numbers. (Despite this, their population always remained relatively low.)
According to Covenant historical records dictated by the San'Shyuum's High Prophets, their homeworld was destroyed in 648 BCE due to a stellar collapse.
This account, however, was only the Reformists' claim. Whether it was true or not—who could say?
From that moment onward, High Charity, a massive artificial city built upon a chunk of their homeworld's surface and powered by the Forerunner Keyship, became the new home of the San'Shyuum.
After sorting through the memories of the Prophet of Truth and other high-ranking San'Shyuum, Selene had pieced together this general history.
That said, if nothing else, she had to give credit to the Conservatives—they had been right. Prophets of prophecy, indeed.
Even without Selene's intervention, in the original timeline, their final words—"Your blasphemy against the gods will bring a curse upon you"—proved eerily accurate. After the Covenant's collapse, the San'Shyuum teetered on the brink of extinction.
Just then—
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Zzt! Zzt! Zzt!
From beyond the energy veil, Selene could hear the escalating sounds of battle—plasma fire and explosions echoing from below, growing in frequency and intensity.
"Your Majesty, Grand General Budo's vanguard forces have successfully landed. In coordination with Supreme Fleet Master Xytan 'Jar Wattinree, they have secured High Charity's central control room. The cleansing operation is now underway."
A shadowy Imperial Assassin emerged once more, kneeling on one knee to deliver the report.
"Mm."
Selene tilted her head slightly upward, her gaze settling upon the towering triangular vessel at the far end of her vision—
The Forerunner Keyship, standing tall like a celestial spire.
The Forerunner Keyship was originally designed as a biological preservation vessel. Within its vast chambers lay genetic repositories and life incubation facilities. In the event of a Halo Array activation—wiping out all sentient life in the galaxy—the Keyship's function was to reactivate, restoring the preserved genetic samples to their respective homeworlds.
After the Covenant's formation, unaware of its true purpose, they designated the Keyship as the Indomitable—a warship of divine significance.
Passing through layers of security barriers, Selene and her entourage stepped inside. Compared to the classical architecture outside, the interior bore the unmistakable geometric grandeur of Forerunner design.
A colossal, cathedral-like hall stretched before them.
Towering, mirrored pillars lined the vast chamber, extending far into the distance like the trunks of a perfectly arranged forest. Overhead, the ceiling was composed of transparent crystalline panels, through which faintly glowing specks of light could be seen beyond.
When the Reformist San'Shyuum seized control of the Keyship, they had intended to use it as their escape vessel, scavenging supplies and preparing for departure. Secretly, they looted and stored vast quantities of flora, trees, seeds, and other natural resources from their homeworld, Janjur Qom.
Upon its ascent into space, the ship's interior lighting was modified to support the growth of vegetation. Shrubs and crops flourished, providing herbal teas and fresh food for its occupants.
The walls before Selene were largely covered in carved wooden panels, fashioned from the very trees cultivated aboard the ship.
In one corner, a stone fountain trickled softly—crafted from a piece of rock torn from Janjur Qom's surface when the Keyship took flight.
Soft green illumination bathed the surroundings, mimicking the sunlight that once filtered through the dense, emerald canopy of their homeworld's forests.
"Gululu…"
The sudden arrival of outsiders startled the Keyship's inhabitants.
A few strange, organic-metal hybrids recoiled upon sensing Selene's presence. Their extended tentacle-like appendages and translucent blue cranial structures quivered with fright.
"Huh… are those Engineers?" Halsey spoke up, still in awe of the Forerunners' magnificent creation.
Taking a closer look—
These bizarre "workers" possessed hard metallic exoskeletons, but their tentacles, heads, and necks were composed of soft, bioluminescent organic tissue, glowing faintly in shades of blue.
It was clear—they were not naturally evolved creatures.
Selene reached out, gently stroking the elongated crystalline head of one of the beings. A faint purple glow flickered across her fingertips as a benign surge of Honkai energy seeped forth.
"Guu?!"
Instantly, the creature's three pairs of eyes widened in unison. It nuzzled against Selene's palm, its tentacles hesitantly reaching out—eager yet cautious, adorably timid.
Selene could clearly perceive the emotions radiating from it—
Joy. Longing. A desperate desire for more.
These beings, known as Huragok, were artificial lifeforms created by the Forerunners through nanocellular engineering. They were not machines, but rather bio-engineered organisms. During wartime, they served as maintenance personnel for the Halo Arrays.
The San'Shyuum had discovered them within an ancient Forerunner ruin.
Due to their innate ability to decode and replicate Forerunner technology, the Huragok were assigned within the Covenant to analyze, reverse-engineer, and maintain Forerunner relics.
It was with their assistance that the Covenant successfully transformed High Charity into a mobile fortress.
"You feel it, don't you…?"
Selene whispered as she gently ran her fingers over the Huragok's smooth, glistening head.
As she spoke, a pulsating wave of violet-red energy radiated from her feet, spreading outward.
At that moment—
A floating beam of light descended from above, drifting toward the Master Chief and the others.
"Welcome, Reclaimers."
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