From Titan Corporation to the Empire of Man

Chapter 643 "This is the Ninth Company of the Holy Blood Angel Legion of the Human Empire—'## Warriors'"

Shortly after.

The shuttle boat landed inside the cruiser's massive hangar, its hydraulic braking system emitting a long, hissing exhaust sound.

As the hatch slowly opened, Jim Raynor's helmet visor automatically adjusted, and the sight before him made him gasp for breath, as did Tychus and the Rangers who had accompanied him.

The hangar was far larger than they had imagined, with a height of over 100 meters and a lateral space large enough to accommodate more than a dozen Thunderhawk gunboats parked neatly in two rows of five.

The massive dome is supported by intersecting alloy beams, which are covered with a system of slide rails for maintenance robotic arms.

The hangar floor is covered with a honeycomb-shaped anti-slip metal mesh, with some dark oil stains and traces of light blue coolant condensed in the gaps between the mesh.

Thousands of intelligent mechanical units are at work, their multi-jointed robotic arms operating precisely and emitting rhythmic "clicking" sounds.

In the maintenance area on the left, three Achilles assault tanks are undergoing maintenance. Their composite armor plates are covered with spiderweb-like cracks caused by plasma weapon burning, and the ceramic coating in some areas has peeled off, exposing the underlying metal substrate.

On the right are thousands of recovered airdrop pods, their black and gray shells covered with ablation marks caused by atmospheric friction.

"Everyone, please follow me."

At that moment, a synthetic human in a dark gray uniform stepped forward, the shark tooth badge on his chest gleaming with a cold metallic luster under the hangar lights.

The face and body of this synthetic human are designed with high biomimicry, and at first glance they are no different from humans. Only the data stream that occasionally flashes in the pupils reveals its non-human nature.

The synths led the group through the busy work area, passing by a group of Thunderhawk gunboats that were loading ammunition, with ground crew and intelligent mechanical units attaching new thermomelt missiles to them.

The group arrived at the ship's transportation hub, where a railcar station came into view.

The platform features a streamlined design, with displays on the edges showing elegant Chinese characters in regular script:

"Rail Train - Bridge Line / Non-Astartes Ride".

The platform floor is paved with anti-static composite material, and the walls are inlaid with tactical information screens that are updated in real time.

With an almost inaudible electromagnetic hum, the silver-gray railcar smoothly pulled into the station.

The carriage door slid open silently, revealing a simple yet practical military-style interior.

The shock-absorbing seats feature a high-strength polymer frame covered with fire-retardant synthetic leather that has developed a unique worn texture from long-term use. The ceiling and bulkhead lighting systems emit a soft, milky white glow.

When the airtight doors closed, the train began to accelerate with incredible smoothness.

Through the nano-reinforced glass windows, the interior of the ship unfolds like a painting—

On the lower weapons deck, fully automated loaders were feeding ammunition to the giant macro cannons, each shell flashing a dangerous red light;
Inside the living quarters, auxiliary soldiers, having changed out of their power suits and back into their training uniforms, are quietly eating in the mess hall. Their plates are neatly arranged, and they are not wasting any food.

On the central training field, five shark recruits are undergoing close combat training, their power armor sparking with dazzling electrical sparks during intense collisions.

Five minutes later, the train began to slow down and finally came to a smooth stop at the dedicated platform in the bridge area.

The platform walls are engraved with a relief depicting the battle history of the Man-Eating Shark Company, which gleams with a faint bronze luster under special lighting.

As they left the train, stepped off the platform, passed through the last airlock, and stood frozen in place the moment Jim and Tychus truly stepped onto the bridge, they both paused and stood there.

The sight before them stunned even the seasoned Ranger commander.

The bridge space is as magnificent as a medieval cathedral, with a 30-meter-high dome supported by intersecting alloy ribbed arches, and a giant crystal chandelier hanging down, emitting a pale golden light, enveloping the entire space in a solemn and mysterious atmosphere.

Light shines through an intricately carved prism, casting ever-changing shadows on the wall inlaid with historical reliefs.

On the memorial walls on both sides, more than twenty sets of battered power armor are neatly displayed.

These are the relics of the man-eating shark brothers who died bravely in battle throughout the ages, and each set of armor retains its final battle posture.

Some breastplates were melted through by plasma weapons, some shoulder armors still had alien bone spikes stuck in them, and the one in the very center was even frozen in a sword-wielding posture, permanently frozen in the moment of death.

The central control panel features a floating design, with a holographic star map slowly rotating in the air, projecting the real-time situation of the surrounding star field.

Two technical sergeants, wearing red robes over their power armor, were busy at the front of the stage. Dozens of data optical cables extended from their mechanical prosthetics, connecting to various interfaces of the control system like a spider web.

One of them was rapidly analyzing the data stream on the star map, his helmet visor flashing incessantly.

"Welcome to the Abyss Hunter."

A deep, resonant voice came from the conductor's seat, carrying the unique hum of metallic resonance.

Cas Lowry slowly rose to his feet, his massive three-meter-tall frame casting an oppressive shadow under the lights.

The platoon leader of the assault team wore a full-body power armor that was as black as ink, except for the dark red lining of the hydraulic system at the joints, which looked like flowing blood.

The shark gill-shaped helmet fins opened and closed rhythmically with the breathing, emitting a soft hissing sound. The man-eating shark emblem etched on the breastplate was still stained with nearly dried blood.

Clearly, this company commander had just returned from the battlefield.

"What the hell."

Tychus unconsciously took a half step back, his boots screeching against the metal floor. "What did this guy eat to grow up like this?"

Jim was equally shocked, his gaze sweeping back and forth between Cass and the other man-eating sharks.

When wearing power armor, a normal Astartes has an average height of about two and a half meters, while members of the Flame Lizard Legion may be slightly taller.

But this platoon leader, who resembled a shark, was clearly beyond the norm.

Their size was almost comparable to that of the Imperial Guards and Grey Knights they had never seen before.

"Artifact."

Ignoring the Rangers' reactions, Cass extended his armored hand directly to Lyon. His power armor knuckles were equipped with a sophisticated hydraulic assist system, which was now emitting a faint hum.

Upon hearing this, the two special operations team members behind Leon immediately stepped forward and worked together to lift out the lead alloy sealed container.

When Cass took it with one hand, the 200-kilogram container felt as light as a feather to an ordinary person.

"It will be temporarily kept by my company."

His voice, amplified by the helmet's speaker system, carried an undeniable authority.

He then turned and handed the container to the tech sergeant beside him. The power armor's servo system hummed smoothly, and the tech sergeant immediately activated the encryption program. The runes on the container's surface lit up with blue light in sequence, and the multiple locks inside made a crisp "click" sound. The whole process was like some kind of solemn ritual, and even the air seemed to freeze for a moment.

After the sealed container was taken away by the technical sergeant, the holographic star map inside the bridge suddenly switched. Cass Lowry stood in front of the control panel, and several blue-glowing neural cables extended from the data interface on his left arm, connecting to the control terminal like living things.

With a flash of data, a holographic image of an encrypted file was projected onto the main screen.

“The mastermind behind the Mobius Foundation has been confirmed.” Cass’s tone was deep and resonant, each syllable like a hammer blow striking the hearts of the crowd. “It is none other than the Crown Prince of the Terran Empire, Valerian Mengsk.”

The air inside the bridge seemed to freeze instantly.

The light from the lamps seemed particularly dazzling at that moment.

? !
Jim Reynolds' armored left hand made a sickeningly sharp "crunch" as he slowly turned his head, his eyes blazing with suppressed fury, his gaze like a drawn blade aimed at Tychus Finley beside him.

"Wait! Little Jimmy!"

Tychus reflexively raised his hands, the cigar ash between his fingers falling onto the steel deck.

For once, a hint of panic appeared on the face of this usually carefree, burly man, his thick eyebrows furrowed tightly together.

"I swear to God!" His voice rose even higher without him realizing it. "I really didn't know that bookish prince was behind this!"

He gestured with his thick fingers in the air, trying to make his point: "Those people from the Foundation always communicate one-way through encrypted channels, and even when they meet in person, they all wear those damn masks! Who knew their sugar daddy was a brat from the Mengsk family!"

Jim didn't respond immediately. Instead, he took a deep breath, filling his lungs with cold, circulating air, and forced himself to suppress his surging anger.

Years of fighting side-by-side had made him understand Tychus better than anyone else—

This rude old soldier may be greedy and reckless, but after dismantling that damned "mobile coffin," he never concealed anything on important matters, nor did he deliberately cover up any intelligence related to the Mengsk family.

Just as the atmosphere was about to freeze to its limit, Leon stepped forward at the opportune moment, the silencing system of his nanosuit making his footsteps almost completely silent.

"Our investigation department has located the final artifact." His voice was as calm as if he were reporting on routine training.

The holographic projection then switched, and a planet shrouded in a scarlet storm slowly rotated before everyone's eyes.

The planet's surface is covered with jagged cracks, like wounds torn open by a giant beast. Giant mines are like festering sores scattered across the surface, and abandoned industrial facilities are like rusted skeletons, broken and fragmented.

Lightning occasionally pierces the thick atmosphere, casting fleeting, pale flashes of light in the projection. Most importantly, the "star" that provides light to this planet seems about to explode, threatening to devour everything in its path.

"Typhon," Leon's voice remained calm. "A mining planet on the outskirts of the Terran Empire's colonies. According to intelligence provided by our superiors, the last fragment of the artifact is hidden on this planet, and its approximate coordinates have been confirmed."

"helmsman."

Seeing this, Cas Lori ordered in an unquestionable tone: "Set course, Typhon system, and activate Level 1 combat readiness."

"Yes, sir!"

The helmsman's fingers flew across the control panel, and the holographic star map responded immediately, rapidly zooming in on the target star system. The jump route was marked in scarlet, like a wound tearing through the starry sky.

As Cass turned around, the power armor's servo system emitted a low hum.

The platoon leader looked down at Jim Raynor, the shark gill-like heat sink opening and closing slightly with his breathing. "Return to the Hyperion immediately. Three hours later, join my company to seize the last fragment of the artifact."

As his gaze shifted to Tychus, the red light in his helmet visor intensified, and the hydraulic system in his power armor's neck emitted a soft hiss. "After the mission is complete, you'll be responsible for contacting the Mobius Foundation and informing them—"

Cass paused deliberately before saying, "The goods are ready; we require the other party to inspect them in person."

A sinister smile spread across Tychus's rough face, and the cigar curled dangerously at the corner of his mouth.

"Ha! They're setting a trap to catch a big fish? I love this kind of work!"

Laughter echoed through the bridge, a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere.

Jim stood there with a furrowed brow, his eyes fixed on the holographic projection. The planet labeled Typhon was slowly rotating, its surface shrouded in rust-colored clouds, from which lightning occasionally exploded.

“I understand,” Jim finally nodded.

As he turned and walked toward the airlock, his gaze swept over the dead planet one last time. What awaited him there was not only an unknown artifact, but also the prelude to a reckoning with the Mengsk family.

The bridge suddenly began to vibrate slightly, the Abyss Hunter's engines began to warm up, and the energy readings on the control panel jumped wildly.

Jim could feel a subtle tremor beneath his feet, as if the steel behemoth was awakening.

As the gas valve closed, Cas Lowry stood in front of the holographic projection, his three-meter-tall body resembling a steel statue, his shark helmet gleaming coldly under the flashing alarm lights.

at the same time--

In New Canaan, an agricultural colony on the edge of the core star system of the Terran Empire, a catastrophic disaster is unfolding.

Hundreds of millions of Zerglings swept across the continent like a living tsunami, the Flying Zerglings formed a black wave of death, and the Hydralisks' bone spikes poured down like a torrential rain.

The viscous purple fungal carpet devoured the golden wheat fields at a speed of three kilometers per hour, and wherever it passed, the colony's alloy buildings twisted and collapsed like melting candles.

On the orbital defense platform, the last remaining surveillance camera transmitted its final images—

The anti-aircraft turret in the seventh district was smashed into scrap metal by the Thunder Beast, and the operator was torn in two alive. In the central square, a mother holding her baby struggled and sank in the fungal carpet. The evacuation ship in the spaceport had its engine melted by the Flying Mantis's acid and crashed, leaving a long column of smoke.

Desperate cries echoed across public communication channels—

"This is the New Canaan Colony Governor's Office! The Zerg have breached the last line of defense! Requesting Orbital Support."

"Please, I beg you. My baby is only three months old."

"Damn imperial bastards! How dare you abandon your own citizens like this?!"

The Terran Empire's response was chillingly cold: "In accordance with Article 37 of the Wartime Regulations, the presence of Hive Will contamination in this area has been confirmed. All Imperial units must evacuate immediately. Repeat, evacuate immediately."

The battlecruiser's engine nozzles emitted blinding blue light, leaving the fleeing civilian ships in the radiation wake.

Clearly, in order to preserve its fleet and manpower, the Terran Empire chose to abandon this colony and its hundreds of millions of people.

However, at that moment, the communication channel was suddenly forcibly interrupted by a powerful signal, and a voice with a sacred resonance rang out like a morning bell:
“In the name of the Emperor.” Every syllable seemed to have been forged in a crucible of adamantite. “This is the Ninth Company of the Holy Blood Angels Legion of the Human Empire—the ‘Lamenters.’ We will provide aid to New Canaan.”

(End of this chapter)