A vast, abyss-descending aura blanketed the entire starry sky in an instant. An overwhelming pressure, unlike anything Halsey had ever known, spread from the heavens and soon permeated the sea of stars.
At that moment, she could not even describe what she was feeling.
It was as though an enormous shadow had suddenly enveloped her.
As if everything about her had been stripped bare—her body, her memories, her soul—laid open for someone to examine at will. She could feel every single cell in her body weighed down by a crushing force, her limbs turning cold, yet she was utterly powerless and could only endure in silence.
It was impossible to imagine, impossible to describe. The very fabric of space-time around them seemed to shatter in that instant.
According to scientific logic, under such gravitational pressure, a human body should have long since collapsed. Yet strangely, there were no external injuries at all. They could neither move nor kneel.
"Humans, you are not yet my subjects. There is no need for you to kneel."
Unlike the humans—"As for you..."
On the other side of the starry expanse shrouded in a violet-crimson light curtain—
Thud!Thud!Thud!
Under Selene's gaze, before the Prophet of Truth could even react, his instincts had already surrendered.
By the time he realized what was happening, he found that his forehead was already pressed to the ground.
At once, all the Covenant aliens who had been forcibly transferred here—whether unable to resist the awe in their hearts or crushed by deliberate pressure—dropped to their knees in unison, striking the ground heavily and fiercely.
The Jiralhanae, Kig-Yar, and San'Shyuum (Prophets) in particular were pressed flat against the ground.
Cold sweat poured down from his forehead—despite his greatly atrophied sweat glands. Trembling violently, the Prophet of Truth forced himself to gather every ounce of courage he had left, struggling to raise his head and offer greeting on his own initiative.
"Y-Your... Your Majesty, I offer my humble greetings..."
"I am well."
Selene could easily sense the dense power of faith emanating from the Prophet of Truth, the San'Shyuum, and even the Jiralhanae toward her. But she also knew that this faith was not directed at her personally. It was faith in the Forerunner civilization, in any civilization that had ascended to godhood—or in the Ascended themselves.
Truthfully, if Selene wished to, subduing this flock of professional religious "ostrich" charlatans would not be difficult. However, she held little real interest in the San'Shyuum.
Moreover, humanity—more precisely, the Unified Earth Government—and the Covenant shared a blood feud.
If that hatred was to be diluted or resolved, the San'Shyuum would serve as an excellent outlet.
One of Selene's primary objectives was humanity as a whole. She would not commit the folly of picking up sesame seeds only to lose a watermelon.
"But you do not seem well," Selene said with a faint smile.
Following her will, the face sculpted from countless stars displayed a distinctly human expression.
"The first thing I have come here to do is..."
Out of habitual courtesy, after receiving the Prophet of Truth's greeting, Selene casually stated her purpose.
"...to deal with you trespassing aliens."
"You may have constructed a false Holy City out of lies to bolster your authority and set yourselves upon some so-called 'Great Journey,' but facts do not change."
Though she spoke those words, Selene did not truly believe them. Facts could be changed—as long as one was stronger than the Forerunners. To invert black and white would be effortless.
Selene understood the San'Shyuum mentality. Had she discovered her homeworld littered with vast Forerunner relics, she too might have believed herself to be the chosen successor.
The only difference would be how she handled matters upon discovering humanity—the rightful inheritor—based on her own circumstances.
A lie repeated ten thousand times could become truth. But clearly, the San'Shyuum did not possess the strength to repeat it ten thousand times.
"Would you not agree, Prophet of Truth of Janjur Qom? You should understand that the inheritors were never meant to be you."
As her voice fell, an uproar erupted through the Covenant's multi-species ranks. Overwhelming fear and reverence flooded the Prophet of Truth's heart.
"N-No, no, Your Majesty, it is not so! Your humble servant merely—"
"Too late."
Even if you wished to be a dog, I would find you too ugly.
With Selene's thought, the boundless stellar hand formed from the galaxy snapped its fingers.
Snap!
A colossal detonation resounded, shattering the surrounding void in unison. An unbearable volume slammed into the ears of everyone present, forcing mouths open in involuntary cries of pain.
Blood seeped from many ears and from the corners of eyes.
Yet that pain was merely physical. What their eyes witnessed, what their souls felt, was far more horrifying.
The Prophet of Truth's aged yet smooth upper body—together with his grotesquely elongated neck and head—vanished abruptly.
There was no explosion. No flames. No gore. His entire upper half simply dissolved into mist.
To ordinary eyes, it appeared instantaneous.
But to superhumanly enhanced soldiers like the Master Chief, every detail unfolded in slow motion.
The Prophet of Truth's body seemed to melt from within. His ornate crown and back adornments shattered without resistance.
Skin, muscle, bone—all dissolved automatically into gaseous particles.
Under humanity's horrified gaze, it was not only the Prophet of Truth. Among the equally restrained Covenant aliens, the Kig-Yar, Jiralhanae, and Hunters followed one after another.
No matter how they shoved one another, screamed curses, shrieked, or wailed... none could halt their own dissolution.
The Hunters, in particular, split apart into countless slender worm-like forms before finally disintegrating.
The "Hunters" were a species known as Lekgolo, conquered and absorbed by the Covenant in 784 BCE. These worm-like organisms possessed a collective neural network and could combine into any shape. Within the Covenant, they typically manifested as bipedal humanoid aggregates, earning the name "Hunters" from the UNSC who encountered them.
"Now then... it is your turn."
Selene's gaze ignored the largest portion of Covenant aliens—those Grunts who clutched their heads, sobbing and trembling in terror—and locked instead upon the battered Sangheili (Elites).
Earlier, when her consciousness had swept across the Prophet of Truth's fleet, she had wondered why she detected no Sangheili forces.
Then she found them—in the lower holds of the ships—guarded by Jiralhanae, stripped of their weapons, imprisoned in cages.
So the Covenant's internal schism had indeed occurred.
But considering that this attacking fleet belonged to the Prophet of Truth, Selene was no longer surprised.
(PS: In the original Halo canon, the Prophet of Truth was indeed the most radical anti-Sangheili (Elite) high-ranking member within the Covenant. He supported completely replacing the Elites with the Jiralhanae in the Covenant hierarchy, and the betrayal of the Sangheili High Councilors was orchestrated by him.)
"Will you fight for me?"
To translate more bluntly—Selene was already being polite to the Sangheili. In lower emotional intelligence terms: Do you want to be my dog?
Upon hearing Selene's direct and unadorned question, the Sangheili—whose faith had collapsed and who now faced a future shrouded in uncertainty—were all momentarily stunned.
"Your Majesty, we have followed the San'Shyuum and committed countless sins. Why do you not kill us?"
A cluster of four-mandibled figures lay prone, glancing about in confusion. At last, a Sangheili commander—slimmer than his kin, clad in more ornate armor, his crown set with gemstones—pulled himself from the chaos of his thoughts. Suppressing his fear, he spoke.
"Because you do not eat your own kind. When each serves their own master, how can there be war without death? You fought well."
There was nothing to hide in that reason.
"..."
Clearly, Selene's brief answer caught him off guard.
"My time is precious. Answer me. Do you wish it—or not?"
Though she revealed no killing intent, the Sangheili commander understood. This single question determined whether the Sangheili species would live or face extinction.
After a long silence, the Sangheili councilor finally lowered himself to one knee and pleaded.
"Your Majesty, my people are willing to swear loyalty to you. However..."
"Many of our warriors remain scattered throughout the galaxy. Some are stationed at High Charity. Some dwell within our home system of Urs. And others have followed the Prophet of Regret to the final coordinate—Erde-Tyrene."
"Your Majesty, I beg you—spare them. They too were deceived by the San'Shyuum..." He clenched his mandibles, recalling his own fate. "And betrayed shamelessly!"
"Of course."
Selene replied gently. The boundless hand extended once more.
But this time, it did not bring destruction.
It brought rebirth.
Hum—
Bathed in soft white radiance, the Sangheili commander stared in shock as the scars left by the Prophet of Truth's betrayal and the Jiralhanae's ambush healed at a visible rate. His body felt lighter with every passing second.
In his sight, even those comrades whose limbs had been severed—or who had been dragged from their cages with only a single breath remaining—began rapidly regenerating beneath Selene's healing aura.
"We thank you for your mercy and generosity."
"By the honor of the Sangheili, we shall never forget your grace!"
This time, Selene had neither compelled nor guided them. They bowed of their own accord.
That likely counted as sincerity.
Selene had no interest in scrutinizing it further. Whether true or false made little difference. If true, she could deepen the bond through Mental Seal guidance. If false, then brainwashing and forceful control would suffice.
For now, it was merely a formality. Carrots and sticks were both indispensable. Kill the chicken to warn the monkeys. Demonstrate a touch of democracy and freedom.
If complications truly arose one day, she would teach them what real cruelty meant. Even a corpse could be squeezed for its last drop of oil.
"Return and prepare. Gather the remaining aliens—hm, Covenant species—and ready yourselves for reorganization."
With a casual wave of her hand, taking no cloud with her, the surviving Covenant aliens were sent back to their vessels.
At that moment—
Flash!Flash!Flash!
In the starry sky, the Lord of the Night Lords—Konrad Curze—appeared. Behind him and beneath his feet erupted a deep azure glow. The Honkai particle emissions functioned like a light-speed engine, propelling him from the Nightfall and across the void.
In the blink of an eye, he traversed the farthest edge of Reach's near orbit, becoming a streaking point of light visible to the naked eyes of U.N.S.C defense soldiers.
"As for you... the show is over. I will not force you. But the correct choice..."
There was little Selene needed to say to the humans of the Unified Earth Government. The objective of deterrence had been achieved. The targets she required would remain. The rest would be handled by the Night Lords Legion.
With a flick of her sleeve, and after bestowing another round of mass healing, Selene returned the more than seven hundred million humans she had gathered from Reach.
Many U.N.S.C soldiers felt the world spin. When they opened their eyes again, they found themselves once more beneath the fire-reddened sky.
The only difference was the myth-like experience now engraved in their memories. Every wound inflicted by the first assault of the Night Lords fleet—whether minor scratches or crippling injuries—had been completely healed.
Everything felt dreamlike. Even the most seasoned veterans found their weapon-gripping hands trembling.
Unbelievable though it was, reality made itself clear.
"Soldiers of the United Nations Space Command. We are human. The Covenant alien assault has been crushed by our forces. The orbital defense platforms are now entirely under our control. In other words—the Battle of Reach has ended in our complete victory!"
"Lay down your weapons and return home—or remain on the battlefield and continue resisting, becoming the final burial offerings of your filthy, foolish, cowardly United Council government. The choice is yours."
"Lay down your weapons! By Her Majesty's decree, none of your past actions will be pursued! Lay down your weapons, and you may return safely to your families..."
"Ten minutes. You have ten minutes to consider. After that, any who resist will be executed without mercy—collective punishment included!"
The cold, hoarse electronic voice echoed across the ruins of Reach, speaking slowly and clearly.
At that moment, the gray sky—obscured by the massive fleet formation—felt suffocatingly oppressive. The Night Lords moved once more. Drop pods and assault craft descended like relentless rain, falling without cease.
Clang!
"We can't win."
"Our resistance means nothing but death."
"At least they're not alien scum. Surrendering to our own kind isn't treason."
"Before that goddess, we can be erased with a snap..."
Once one soldier laid down his weapon, others followed. Soon, countless U.N.S.C troops began discarding their arms.
Those with families settled on Reach returned home. Those without stepped forward to the Imperial Army lines and formally declared surrender.
"The effect is satisfactory..."
With that, Selene withdrew her gaze. The colossal stellar avatar dissolved, and her attention turned toward the core individual before her.