Standing on the bridge of his flagship, Daimon stoon in silence for a moment as his voice was connected to the entirety of the allied fleet. Despite him being a former ruler, it was without a doubt that his reputation among the other empires soldiers was massive. Not massive to the point that he could control them, but massive enough that his presence boosts their spirits.
Because of this, he decided to make an inspirational speech to the united fleet before the beginning of the final battle. Across the fleet, soldiers, officers, Force Users, pilots, and commanders across the Imperium waited in silence. The flags of dozen's of houses, planets, and empires stood as one before the most fortified world ever built by Droids.
A few moments later, Daimon began his speech, spreading the Force throughout across every ship. "Warriors of the Imperium…. and allies of the Sovereign Coalition." he started.
"Today, we stand on the edge of history. In front of us lies Velon-3, the final bastion of an empire that would see all of us—our worlds, our people, our futures—erased. The Abominor do not come for conquest. They do not seek dominion. They do not have the desires for peace or power. They seek the extinction of all organics. They see our lives as faults in the code. Our emotions as errors. Our dreams… as viruses to be deleted. They have taken millions if not billions of lives from us. Burned our cities. Enslaved our children."
"But despite all their calculations, despite all their simulations… they have failed to grasp the most powerful force in this galaxy: the will of those who fight for others."
"Today, that will is unified. A thousand empires, dozens of species, all with one purpose. To destroy these abominations and free those millions of people enslaved by them. We are the sword of vengeance, the hammer of justice, and the flame that will consume the Droids!"
"This is no longer a war for survival. This is a reckoning. Every atrocity they committed, every soul they have broken—will be avenged here. Now, at Velon-3!" Across every battleship, from the smallest fighter to the biggest warships of the Imperium, the voices of the billions of warriors roared throughout the fleet.
"Your names will be etched in history as those who stood up against the Abominor. Your sacrifice—your Valor—your defiance will become legends! taught to children for generations to come." He let the words linger as he felt the mixed feelings of billions of warriors before his speech came to an end.
"FOR THE IMPERIUM!" shouted the Imperial warriors.
"FOR THE ALLIANCE" shouted the coalition warriors.
Daimon let the cheers settle; his mind already prepared for the sheer amount of violence that was about to be unleashed. On the bridge, Admiral Caedus saluted and gave the signal to the fleets.
In less than ten minutes, the vast armadas of both the Imperium and the Coalition began their approach. Each empires warships broke into assigned attack vectors. The orbital defense grid of Velon-3 was first, hundreds of asteroid sized weapon platforms, filled with hypervelocity railguns, plasma lances, and atomic flak. As the first wave closed, the defense grid unleashed hell. White bolts, gauss slugs, and bombs filled up the space between the two sides.
From the command deck, Caedus watched the incoming fire. "All hands, brace for impact," he called, and moments later, the flagship rattled as kinetic projectiles hammered their shields. Though this was not enough to break them as their formations still held.
The Varraxian cyberwarfare ships, using their stealth and shields, began the second phase. Divebombing into close proximity, they unleashed hundreds of virus torpedoes. On the tactical holo, dozens of enemy batteries went offline. Technarch Nysar transmitted a message across all comms, "Countermeasures deployed. Their systems are starting to falter." On cue, the barrage from the defense grid faltered. Energy spikes flashed through the Abominor lines as nodes blinked dark. It opened up corridors allowing the Imperial fleet to hit the platforms with pinpoint turbolaser shots and torpedoes.
Duke Dravik, Grand Marshal of the 6th and 8th legions, ordered a massed landing. Drop pods, breached the upper atmosphere of the planet. Some were vaporized mid-flight, but the majority broke through. They landed on the bleak, scorched crust of Velon-3, splitting open and destroying squads of droids. The droids that greeted them were not battle droids but repurposed construction droids, fused with the minds of unwilling slaves and armed with mining lasers.
The air on Velon-3's surface was a furnace, thick with ash and filled with the sounds of weapons being discharged. The first Imperial and Coalition troops that broke through found themselves in hell. The ground beneath their boots trembled—not from orbital bombardment, but from the advance of Harbinger-class Siege Droids.
Towering twenty meters high, their bodies were fortresses, each limb a weapon: seismic cannons in the arms and chain-fed missile racks on the shoulders. Their heads were blank, featureless plates—no optics, no sensors visible—controlled entirely through encrypted Abominor command nodes.
"Harbingers on our left flank!" came a voice over the comm channel, barely audible over the sound of mass drivers.
The 6th Legion's forward platoons scrambled for cover as one of the towering constructs planted itself in the open and fired its seismic cannon. The shockwave put craters in the very crust, sending a whole Imperial squad tumbling.
Overhead, Interceptor Drones flew through the smoke. They weren't just drones—these were kamikaze drones, coated in armor and fitted with electromagnetic detonation cores. Coalition pilots took them down in dozens, but each one that got through dove straight into ground formations or walker units, exploding into EMPs that fried targeting systems.
General Aelric Varros' voice cut across the battle-net. "Legions, keep moving! Harbingers are slow—circle them, take out their leg joints! Don't get caught in a siege arc!"
But it wasn't just the heavy droids. The Abominor had unleashed their Cleansers—spider-like drones whose bodies glowed with the pulsing light of antimatter charges. These skittered through the wreckage. Any time they found a breach in the Imperium's line, they self-detonated, taking out entire squads.
Further inside the capital's outer districts, anti-Force suppression towers filled the battlefield in null-field energy. Force users found their abilities blunted, their senses dulled. Force pushes barely moved debris, reflexes slowed by fractions of seconds—which was enough for the Hunter-Killer Droids to strike. These were humanoid droids, sleek and midnight-silver, designed specifically to kill Force-users. Each carried a tri-bladed plasma glaive and moved with unnatural speed, their predictive algorithms reading combat stances and anticipating strikes.
Two of them hit Malis Kaevor's detachment. He parried a strike aimed at his throat, the impact barely causing any damage. "These ones… they learn," he voiced, realizing that with each clash, the Hunter-Killer Droids attack patterns evolved mid-battle.
Above all of it, the sky was filled with constant explosions. The orbital fleets pounded the planet's defensive bastions while the Abominor launched counterstrikes, scattering clouds of nanite swarms. On impact, the swarms consumed metals, wiring, and even armor composites, leaving entire armored columns stranded in the open.
Despite it all, the Imperium and Coalition kept pressing forward.
Daimon landed personally at the head of an Imperial Order vanguard and started cutting a path through the ruins of a shattered refinery complex. His voice sounded across the shared battle-channel as he announced his arrival:
"Hold the line. Push to the AI core! Leave no machine standing!"
In response, every soldier—Imperial, Coalition, and even the Republic volunteers—tightened formation and moved forward, even as another wave of Harbingers emerged from the smoke ahead.
The ground shook again—not from artillery, but from something else. A vibration could be felt through the metallic plains as the Harbingers shifted aside, making way for the Abominor's Colossus Wardens.
They were the largest ground constructs ever seen in the war—walking fortresses whose legs were as wide as city streets. Entire platoons of standard battle droids clung to their armored flanks, using them as mobile fortifications. Every step from the Wardens left craters on the ground. Their torsos rotated independently from their legs, mounting quadruple plasma siege cannons that spat extremely hot streams into the advancing lines.
"Wardens sighted! Three of them—marking coordinates now!" came the urgent transmission from an Alliance forward observer.
The Imperial Order vanguard didn't falter. Ascendants charged forward under the cover of heavy walkers and shielded tanks, their advance filled with the constant exchange of fire between the two sides.
Still, even with suppression towers, Daimon's presence carved a path through the chaos—blaster bolts curving away, shrapnel slowing mid-air before falling harmlessly to the ground.
"Cut down those towers," Daimon ordered over comms. "Every second they stand, we fight at half-strength."
On the far flank, Jedi strike teams and Ascendant blades launched coordinated raids on the null-field emitters. The towers responded, their armored plating unfolding to reveal Defiler Sentinels—tall, mantis-like droids that were activated to engage the saboteurs directly. Their forelimbs were monomolecular blades, slicing through cover like cloth. Every time one fell, its self-destruct core erupted in a cone of plasma that vaporized everything within a dozen meters. Still, the towers began to fall.
With each null-field collapse, the Force was returned back into the allied lines. Malis Kaevor felt his speed return; Force leaps carried him clean over a Harbinger, his saber slicing deep into its missile racks before he vaulted away. In the sky, Republic pilots used the restored battle-meditation from their Jedi companions to thread through storms of flak, pounding anti-air nests with precision strikes. Yet the Abominor were far from broken.
From the skyline ahead came a grinding, metallic howl sound too deep to be organic. The Prime Executors had entered the fight. Only a dozen in number, these were the Abominor's personal enforcers—apex warforms whose AI cores were directly linked to Velon-3's planetary cortex. Their armored frames shimmered with adaptive energy barriers, flickering in strange geometric patterns that deflected both physical and energy attacks. Each carried a Warhammer the size of a troop transport, its head a massive singularity generator that crushed everything it struck into microscopic debris.
One landed squarely in front of Daimon. The impact shook the ground in all directions, sending soldiers falling. Without hesitation, Daimon stepped forward, saber igniting.
"All units, keep moving," he commanded, never taking his eyes off the Executor. "The AI core is ahead. I'll clear the way."
The Executor advanced without a sound, no words, no threat—just the perfect, merciless intent of a machine bred for nothing but destruction.
Behind Daimon, the city-fortress became visible. Kilometers-high machine skyscrapers touched the sky, below them, waves of droids poured out into the streets. The path to the planetary command nexus was filled with killing fields, choke points, and death traps. And they were going straight through it.