On the Terran Dominion's capital planet, Korhal—
The night sky on its dark side was sliced into fragments by the searchlights from orbital defense platforms.
The once-prosperous Augustgrad now resembled a wounded beast, curling beneath the protection of its artificial force fields.
Thousands of anti-air towers pointed their barrels skyward, their charging coils flickering with dangerous blue light.
Scattered across orbit were the Dominion's warships—
Most were outdated Behemoth-class battleships and hastily refitted armed transports, forming a flimsy defense net.
Compared to its peak, Korhal's orbital defenses now resembled a sieve full of holes.
"All point-defense systems, overcharge to 120%!"
The ground command center's communication channel was filled with anxious shouting.
Tech officers stared at the glaring gaps on the holographic map—zones that were supposed to be covered by the Third Fleet now held only a few barely operational escort ships.
Valerian hadn't just taken the warships—he'd taken the most elite personnel too.
Back on the surface, in the Augustgrad Imperial Palace—
The palace complex loomed like a forest of black steel at the city center.
Banners of the Mengsk family flapped wildly atop tall spires, caught in the gales preceding the storm.
The outer walls were coated with anti-radiation materials and sheathed in reconnaissance-proof lead alloy, reflecting a sickly metallic sheen beneath the searchlights.
Twelve electromagnetic-woven fortress walls formed concentric rings, with death zones in between—
Auto-turrets, spider mine matrices, laser grids, as well as old-school trenches, bunkers, and machine gun nests.
Royal guards clad in CMC-660 heavy armor patrolled between fortifications like machines, their shoulder plates marked with the number of traitors they had executed.
Some veterans' shoulders were densely packed with tally marks.
Two towering statues flanked the main gates of the palace:
On the left stood Arcturus Mengsk heroically raising the Terran Dominion flag. On the right was a fictional hero stretching out his arm in a nuclear blast, shielding a child.
Ironically, the material for this statue came from nuclear-bombed soil on Korhal's surface—and no hero had ever saved the people.
At the pinnacle of power, atop the palace—
The elevator doors silently slid open, revealing a corridor carpeted in deep crimson.
Both walls were inlaid with various trophies—
The crystal scepter of the Tassadar Council, the legion emblem of the Umoja Protectorate Forces, and even the taxidermied head of a UED officer.
Each relic had a micro-holo projector below it, endlessly looping its "glorious capture" moment.
At the end of the hallway stood a heavy, imposing door.
Behind it, Arcturus Mengsk's private quarters occupied the entire top floor.
It was less an office and more a private museum.
The floor was paved with Zerg carapace, specially treated to shine like black obsidian.
The ceiling projected a live star map, with strategic nodes marked by skull icons. The walls were entirely one-way glass—crafted with Protoss crystal tech—allowing a view over the city while remaining opaque from outside.
At that moment, the ruler of the Terran Dominion stood at the window.
Arcturus Mengsk faced the city, his hands folded behind his back.
His silhouette cast a shadow against the glass, merging with the shimmering lights of the palace grounds below.
He wore no ceremonial robes—just a plain black military uniform. The recycled air stirred his graying temples.
Suddenly, the lights outside blacked out en masse, leaving only the force field-lit palace faintly glowing. Mengsk's lips twitched—this was the third power outage today.
"Your Majesty."
From the shadows stepped a Ghost operative.
Dressed for hostile environments, the operative spoke with a voice like rusted gears: "Just received word—the Prince is returning to Korhal."
Mengsk's fingers tightened slightly.
In the glass reflection, his eyes turned cold and razor-sharp.
"With how many defecting ships?"
"All of them," the Ghost continued. "And the fleet has changed its identification to bear the Dragon Emblem of the Human Empire."
The room fell into dead silence.
Outside, a flash of lightning silently slashed through the clouds, illuminating half of Mengsk's face.
"Don't forget the Final Protocol," he said with eerily calm tone. "If my son wants to become the Dominion's gravedigger…"
Another flash of lightning lit the wall behind him, revealing a deceptive family portrait of the Mengsks.
"…Then I'll bury billions with him."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The Ghost faded into the shadows once again, vanishing from sight.
Mengsk turned away from the window and walked to his desk, picking up a datapad.
But after just a few glances, he violently hurled it at the wall.
Bang—!
The holoprojector sparked as it struck.
Still, the images lingered in midair—
Athena's divine form swelling to planetary scale, her golden boots crushing tectonic plates…
Dreadnought-class guns firing matrix beams that tore through the Zerg like butter…
And Valerian standing beneath the Dragon Emblem of the Human Empire, solemnly announcing the Dominion Fleet's allegiance to its new master.
These clips were sent by a deep-cover mole Mengsk had planted in the defecting fleet—just before all contact was lost. Every frame felt like a dagger to the emperor's mind.
"What kind of being…" Mengsk growled, pressing his fingers to his temple as veins bulged, "can make a god kneel?"
The other Ghosts lurking in the shadows let out soft hisses from their rebreathers.
They had seen Mengsk use nukes to wipe out innocent planets, psionic disruptors to execute rebels—yet never had they seen him with such a look.
It wasn't fear, but fury—a primal rage, like a beast discovering it was no longer atop the food chain.
Mengsk abruptly turned, his boots crunching over the shattered datapad.
He strode to the star map projection area, waving his hand through the air to summon Korhal's defense grid.
Red dots—representing the remaining fleet—blinked sparsely, while golden icons of the Human Empire pressed in, like wolves circling prey.
"Valerian," Mengsk spat the name like venom, "I underestimated his… resolve."
He knew his son too well.
Valerian wasn't a brute, nor would he surrender under mere coercion.
That boy must have calculated: against the Empire's absolute power, resistance meant suicide, while submission might preserve something.
"Messenger!"
Three uniformed officers rushed in from outside. Their coats were immaculate, but their eyes betrayed unease.
Mengsk didn't even look at them. His fingers traced several trajectories on the star map.
"Set all fission mines in the civilian zones to standby."
His voice was terrifyingly calm. "Charge the orbital cannon arrays to critical. Target…"
He stabbed several coordinates on Korhal's surface. "These densely populated areas."
The officers instantly turned pale.
One swallowed hard: "Your Majesty, those are… the refugee shelters."
"Exactly." Mengsk smiled for the first time that night. Madness gleamed in his wrinkles. "When the Human Empire fleet arrives, I want them to see—either they meet my terms, or take responsibility for billions of deaths. Don't they preach about humanity first? Heh."
He walked back to the one-way window. Outside, night thick as ink was torn sporadically by flashes from defensive cannons.
Beneath the palace, the city still glimmered faintly. Millions of civilians slept in peace, unaware they were already poker chips stacked neatly on the negotiation table.
"As for me…"
Mengsk pulled a biosynthetic key from his pocket, its pale-blue DNA authentication shimmered in his palm.
This was the switch to the deepest vault under the palace—his ultimate escape card.
Once activated, the entire planet would self-destruct in a chain reaction. Meanwhile, a hidden escape pod in the palace vault would attempt a desperate warp-jump to a preset location.
With his "death" confirmed, he would no longer be pursued. He could bide his time, rebuild in the shadows, and wait to strike back.
"I'm ready to negotiate," Mengsk told the officers. "But if it breaks down…"
He twirled the key, its cold glint catching the light. "Then I'll show that so-called Human Emperor—some beasts would rather go extinct than kneel."
RUMBLE~—!
Thunder crashed outside, and torrential rain poured down.
Raindrops slammed against the Protoss crystal windows, sounding like countless fingers clawing at the glass. Mengsk's reflection melted into the rain and dying city lights—like a portrait dissolving under acid.
Meanwhile, at the edge of the palace—
The rain fell like waterfalls, washing over the gilded streets of the noble district.
The once radiant avenues were pitch-black, lit only by occasional sweeps of patrol spotlights.
Buildings cast grotesque shadows in lightning flashes. Archways and columns adorned with family crests now resembled the bones of ancient beasts.
Under curfew, the noble district was as silent as a tomb. Even auto-cleaners were tucked away at charging stations.
Inside a suite on the mid-floor of the upscale Crown Hotel—
The chandelier dimmed to its lowest setting, casting a bluish glow on the one-way glass.
Nova Terra embedded a micro fusion bomb into her armguard. Her nanosuit flowed over the device, concealing it perfectly.
The new model had a bio-scaled texture that shimmered with rainbow hues under light.
"Readings nominal."
Stone's voice came over an encrypted channel as he calibrated his gauntlet's holographic jammer.
Two other ex-Ghost operatives knelt nearby, checking the energy cartridges of their pulse sniper rifles.
"Psionic suppressors have masked us from palace scanners. We have a three-hour window," Stone continued.
Across the room, Chirrut Îmwe stood silently at the window.
Though rain ran down the glass like rivers, it did not hinder his "view."
His specialized armor, beneath the black robe, contained a full-spectrum perception matrix that mapped all nearby energy and motion directly into his nervous system.
The Human Empire had offered to restore his vision through biotechnology, but Chirrut chose to remain as he was—to better cultivate his spirit and refine his art.
Four more figures stood like statues in the shadows—
New Jedi of the Human Empire. Their lightsabers remained unlit, but the mingling pressure of the Force and pure psionic energy subtly altered the air itself.
"Mengsk's escape pod is in a vault beneath the palace," Chirrut said calmly, as if discussing dinner. "Guarded by many 'Ghosts.'"
"Heh…"
Baze Malbus chuckled darkly.
His enhanced body nearly burst from his black armor, hydraulic joints growling like beasts.
He hefted a six-barreled rotary gun—meant for vehicles—like a toy, inspecting its ammo feed. "Now this is my kind of party."
Behind him, more than a dozen heavily armed warriors stood ready. All had undergone skeletal and neural augmentations. Their shoulder-mounted missile pods brimmed with thermite warheads. They resembled Stormtroopers of the Galactic Empire—only bigger, meaner, and far more terrifying.
Baze's unit served as auxiliary support for the Human Empire's Jedi, adopting the same name: Stormtroopers.
Nova had originally returned to the StarCraft universe to covertly capture Arcturus Mengsk—crumbling the Dominion from its peak.
But Mengsk valued his life immensely. Korhal's security was airtight. Ghosts lurked in every shadow.
Without a full assault, it was nearly impossible to infiltrate close to Mengsk undetected.
That's why Chirrut, Baze, and the others had come—to assist Nova's team.
Nova now stepped beside Chirrut and tapped her temple.
A hologram projected in the air, showing the palace's underground structure in 3D.
"Our original plan was infiltration through the drainage system, but recently Mengsk added acid traps."
She highlighted several blinking red points. "These positions have auto-turrets. We need someone to draw their fire."
Baze grinned. "Well, ain't that a coincidence?"
He slapped the plasma cannon on his shoulder. "This baby's built for cracking stubborn defenses."
Stone suddenly raised a finger—everyone fell silent.
Even Baze stopped mid-joke.
Moments later, the clank of patrol boots echoed from the street. Spotlights swept the hotel's façade.
Nova, Stone, and the two Ghosts activated their nanosuits' optical camo. The others disappeared into the Jedi's Force-induced field.
The patrol passed without incident. No soldier noticed anything amiss.
"Plan adjustment," Nova said once the danger passed, drawing a new route. "Master Chirrut, take two Jedi and disable the escape pod's guards. Stone's team will cripple comms. Mr. Malbus—"
"I know, I know." Baze waved dismissively, feigning impatience. "Make a big mess. Make the old fox think we're storming the front gate—which sounds perfect to me!"
He cocked his gun with a satisfying clack, signaling that the team was ready to initiate their bold attempt to capture Arcturus Mengsk.
(End of Chapter)
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