From Titan Corporation to the Empire of Man

Chapter 662 "They don't eat people?"

Not long ago, the darkness of the universe was suddenly torn apart.

Above the azure arc of the planet Korhal, the void twisted and collapsed, then burst forth with blinding light.

A warp vortex, over a hundred kilometers in diameter, tore open the physical universe like a wound, and emerging from the rift was the fleet of the human empire—

Four complete expeditionary fleets.

At the same time, numerous traces of warp-through voyages suddenly appeared, and the Terran Empire fleet, led by Valerian Mengsk and defecting to the Empire of Man, also arrived within Korhal's gravitational range.

The "steel torrent" of thousands of warships obscured some of the starlight.

The bridges of the Terran Empire's garrison fleet and the control rooms of various space stations were deathly silent, like tombs.

"My God!"

The commander of the Khar First Orbital Defense Platform, his pupils reflecting the data stream on the tactical screen, couldn't help but let out a sigh.

The human empire's fleet was far larger than intelligence estimates, with over a hundred escort ships alone exceeding six hundred meters in length, not to mention those behemoths that resembled mobile fortresses.

The ten-kilometer-long Imperial-class battleship and the Traveller-class dreadnought slowly emerged from the warp portal, their massive gun arrays at the bow resembling the gaping maw of an abyss, with dark red energy faintly flowing within the black gun barrels.

Moreover, after exiting the war goddess flagship, the Emperor-class unfolded its wing-like "sails" upon exiting the warp portal, with each sail embedded with a plasma bombardment matrix capable of destroying a city.

"Sir, how should we fight this?"

The adjutant's voice trembled.

The commander of the defense platform hovered his finger over the tactics panel, but was unable to issue any commands.

Quantity, firepower, technology—

None of the metrics are on their end.

Even more deadly, reports of chaos from the ground palace kept coming through the communication channels, such as explosions, psionic storms, and the royal guard's mass mutiny.
"The emperor may already be gone."

These words struck like a hammer blow, shattering the last vestiges of morale in the control room.

"Attention all personnel of the Terran Empire." Suddenly, all communication screens lit up with a blinding golden light.

Athena's image "descended" onto the bridge of every warship and the control room of every space station.

She is not a simple projection—

Instead, it appears directly as a physical data entity, with golden light spreading from the edge of the screen and seeping into the control system like a living thing.

Her face was unlike any ordinary person's, almost flawless, with eyes that shone like stars and long hair that shimmered like liquid gold.

“I am Pallas Athena, the Goddess of War of the Human Empire.”

Her voice resonated directly in everyone's minds, carrying an undeniable divine pressure.

“The reign of Arcturus Mengsk has ended, and those who resist will be seen as a betrayal of human civilization.”

As she spoke, the fire control systems of all the Terran warships were suddenly disrupted, making it impossible to accurately lock onto the human Empire and the "rebel" Terran Empire fleet.

Even more terrifying, the AI ​​adjutants began uncontrollably playing live footage—

The raging fire on the top floor of the palace

Royal Guards kneeling in surrender

And Arcturus Mengsk, escorted out of the secret chamber by the Ω Guard.

"For whom are you fighting?"

Athena's question was like a sharp knife, piercing the heart of every soldier.

The commander of the defense platform looked at his trembling hands and felt so lost for the first time in his thirty years of military service.

For Mengsk?

That tyrant who used ordinary people as bargaining chips?

For the Terran Empire?
That distorted regime built on countless lies?

"I pledge in the name of the Emperor of Mankind." Athena's golden figure leaned forward slightly, as if about to step out of the screen.

"Those who lay down their weapons will be pardoned, and those who choose to stand on the side of human civilization will be reborn."

Inside the bridge, the adjutant was the first to remove his military cap.

Next came navigators, communications officers, and fire control operators; more and more people chose to stand on the side of "human civilization."

The commander took a deep breath and reached out to turn off the readiness alarm on the tactical screen.

"All personnel, listen to my command." His voice was hoarse. "Disarm and activate transponders."

In near-Earth orbit, the large space station, which originally belonged to the core defense force of the Terran Empire, immediately shut down its weapon energy readings, and white strobe lights, symbolizing surrender, illuminated its portholes.

From a distance, it looks like stars bowing down in the Milky Way.

Above all this, Athena's golden figure silently observes humanity's choices.

In her eyes, the dawn was about to break.

The signal of surrender spread like a plague through the orbital defense network.

The moment the first space station shut down its weapon arrays, the adjacent defense platform immediately followed suit, closing its missile launch silos, and then the orbital fortress—

The steel fortress, once hailed as invincible, is now slowly turning its cannons, redirecting the macro cannons to a harmless angle.

As for the noble commanders on the bridges of the numerous ships, they exchanged glances with their confidants, their fingers already removed from the fire control systems, instead bringing up holographic projections of their family crests, as if making a silent declaration—

They had long since distanced themselves from Mengsk's tyranny.

“Send an identification code to the human empire.”

A count in a dark purple uniform gave the order in a cold voice, the family crest on his chest gleaming slyly in the dim light.

"Our Cassidy family has always stood on the side of true civilization."

His adjutant's lips twitched almost imperceptibly, but his fingers continued to rapidly input the surrender command.

The nobles were shrewd; rather than be buried with the doomed old dynasty, they would rather seize a place in the new order and perhaps retain their original privileges, status, and wealth.

However, not all bridges are so straightforward.

Inside the bridge of a Gorgon ship named Sun of Vengeance, the captain, with his temples completely white, still stared intently at the tactical screen.

The veteran's face was like a weathered rock, every wrinkle etched with unwavering loyalty. His fingers hovered above the weapon control panel, veins bulging, yet he hesitated to press the button.

"Captain," the young communications officer's voice trembled, "the third and seventh defense zones have completely surrendered, we—"

"Shut up!"

The old captain slammed his fist on the control panel, denting the alloy panel and causing blood to seep from his knuckles.

It was Mengsk who promoted him to officer, and now to general. This favor is like a shackle, firmly imprisoning his conscience and guilt.

Just then, the golden figure on the communication screen suddenly disappeared, replaced by a familiar face—

Valerian Mengsk.

The former Crown Prince of the Terran Empire wore the dark uniform of the human empire, the dragon emblem on his collar gleaming coldly under the light. His face was more resolute than when he left Korhal, his eyes no longer showing hesitation, but only a chilling determination.

"To all my compatriots who are still hesitating."

The prince's voice was transmitted to every warship through the quantum communication network, as clear as a whisper.

“My father, Arcturus Mengsk, is now under the control of the Omega Guard.”

There was dead silence on the bridge.

Ω Guard
That elite suicide squad, personally created by Mengsk and supposedly known for its absolute loyalty, also collectively betrayed them.

"What are you still fighting for?" Valerian's voice suddenly rose. "For a tyrant who points nuclear missiles at civilians? For a madman who would rather destroy Korhal than relinquish power?"

His questioning was like a sharp sword, piercing through the last vestige of hope.

Live footage is displayed on the tactical screen:

Mengsk was escorted through the palace corridors; the once-arrogant emperor was now disheveled, with bloodstains on his forehead.

Ironically, the shoulder armor of the Omega Guards escorting him still bore the scarlet insignia of loyalty.

“Look around you.”

Valerian spread his arms wide, and a magnificent starry sky unfolded against the backdrop of the holographic projection. The human empire's fleet stood in formation like silent giants, yet not a single cannon was pointed at the Terran ships.

"This is not conquest, but redemption."

His voice lowered, carrying a kind of compassionate sincerity.

"I swear in the name of the Mengsk family that all those who lay down their weapons and those who have stood their ground will retain their ranks and honors. What the human empire wants is not enslavement, but a galaxy where no innocent people cry out."

The old captain slowly closed his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, something in those bloodshot eyes had been extinguished forever.

"Disarmament".

He gave the order in a hoarse voice, as if he had aged ten years in an instant: "Turn on the navigation beacon to prepare for the handover."

With this order, the weapon systems of the Sun of Vengeance were shut down one by one, and the lights changed from the crimson that indicated combat readiness to a calm, dark blue.

Around it, the last few remaining Terran warships that were putting up a last stand also extinguished their guns one after another, like tamed beasts lowering their claws.

The historic handover of Khartoum near-Earth orbit was completed in an eerie silence.

The Empire of Man's transport fleet moved out like a silver swarm of bees, each carrying an Astartes tactical squad and corresponding auxiliary troops.

They took over each space station methodically.

Meanwhile, within the atmosphere, the former Tyrannical defense fleet was slowly landing at the major starports, followed by a steady stream of transport ships from the Imperial People's Empire.

There was no triumphant display of the victors, nor the dejected lament of the vanquished; only soldiers in different uniforms silently facing each other.

Occasionally, an officer would extend his hand and shake hands with an officer from the human empire, as if this were not a change of regime, but merely a routine change of guard.

From the highest synchronous orbit, Athena, standing on the bridge, gazed upon all of this. Her gaze pierced through the clouds, seeing the starlight about to shine upon the palace complex of Korhal. The dark clouds were dispelled by the rising sun, and she also saw the common people gradually emerging from their homes on the streets.

Shortly after.

The morning light pierced the smoke-filled horizon, casting a pale gold hue over the war-torn Augustegrad.

The ruins on the north side of the palace complex are still emitting wisps of smoke, and the broken alloy beams and pillars, like the skeleton of a giant beast, are leaning crookedly towards the sky.

The traces of last night's fierce battle are shocking.

The armor plates melted by the plasma cannon solidified into eerie metal waterfalls, and murky rainwater accumulated in the charred craters. Occasionally, the remains of CMC power armor, half-buried in the rubble, could be seen, their interiors already scorched and hollowed out by the high temperature.

Baze Malbus's Stormtrooper squad was passing through the ruins, with two Jedi Knights standing silently to the side. Although their lightsabers had been sheathed, the Force fluctuations still caused the air to distort slightly.

What is most chilling are the Royal Guards who are still being manipulated. They stand stiffly like puppets, their eyes gleaming with an unnatural golden light, like some kind of terrifying living trophy.

This is simply the most biting irony of the Mengsk regime.

Nova Terra stood on the ruined steps of the palace, her nanotech combat suit automatically adjusting its optical camouflage, making her appear and disappear like a ghost in the light and shadow.

Her fingertips lightly brushed across a bullet hole in the wall. Fate had played a cruel trick on her; now she had returned to her old haunts as a "conqueror."

“The pawn has turned the tables on him.” Stone’s voice came through the communication channel, with a touch of dark humor. “The old fox certainly didn’t expect that the blade he sent to test the waters would eventually pierce his own throat.”

Indeed, as Stone said, Nova and her companions were originally sent to Mar-Sara as "pawns" or "discarded pieces" to test the capabilities of the Imperium of Man, but these pawns ultimately contributed to the collapse of the Mengsk regime.

Along the city's tree-lined boulevards, the Astartes stand like moving monuments.

Their power armor gleamed with a cold, hard metallic sheen in the sunlight, and their heavy footsteps caused the ground to tremble slightly.

The nobles whispered among themselves on their gilded and silver-inlaid balconies, some even raising expensive viewing glasses to examine these super soldiers as if they were rare animals.

"I heard they can tear through tank armor with their bare hands."

A lady in a bathrobe said softly, her hands still caressing the cat she was holding.

Her husband squinted and said, "As long as the tax policy remains unchanged, it doesn't matter who rules."

These powerful figures seem certain that they can retain their privileges in the new order.

After all, the change of dynasties is just a change of diners at the top table, while these families who control the actual resources will always be regular guests at the banquet.

Several daring young nobles even tried to approach the patrol team, but were frightened back by Astartes' stern rebukes. When those cold visors swept over them, they emitted a light like the Grim Reaper counting offerings.

In stark contrast to the "elegant curiosity" of the aristocratic district, the commoners' district was deathly silent.

As Astartes appeared in the narrow alley, the open windows slammed shut one after another, and even the stray cats tucked their tails between their legs and darted into the sewers.

An old man carrying goods saw a giant painted in red and yellow walking towards him and was so frightened that he let go of the food box, which then fell to the ground.

"No need to panic."

Astartes of the Lamenters Company stopped in his tracks, his voice, surprisingly gentle, coming through the loudspeaker on his helmet.

The teardrop-shaped insignia on the right shoulder of the power armor gleamed a dark red in the sunlight, like dried blood.

When the giant knelt down on one knee and used his enormous fingers to help the old man pick up the scattered food, an incredulous gasp came from the crowd.

Even more shocking are the dark green-painted Flame Lizard Warriors, who will suddenly stop during patrols to help civilians repair collapsed roofs, or distribute nutritional pastes, small toys, souvenirs, and other items they carry to emaciated children.

These subtle acts of kindness, like pebbles thrown into stagnant water, stirred up ripples of doubt among the crowd.

"They don't eat people?"

A little boy hiding behind his mother's skirt asked timidly, which earned him a startled gesture as he covered his mouth in response.

This is a horror story instilled by Mengsk's propaganda machine, making civilians believe that Astartes are all bloodthirsty monsters.

But gradually, as people discovered that these giants were indeed just silently patrolling, neither arresting people indiscriminately nor destroying shops, the tightly closed doors began to tentatively open a crack.

The owner of one bakery even mustered up the courage to place a basket of whole-grain bread on the path that the Weeping Warriors were sure to take, then hid inside the shop and peeked through the crack in the door.

The atmosphere in the entire block suddenly became subtle when the giant stopped, solemnly picked up a piece of bread and placed it in the storage slot at his back, leaving behind a commemorative coin of the Human Empire that gleamed with gold (real gold).

This small metal coin bearing the dragon emblem is more persuasive than any propaganda broadcast.
(End of this chapter)