"Inheritance..."
Carrying an obsession that refused to fade, the consciousness of the Gravemind was rapidly torn away. The telepathic abilities born from advanced neural physics were sealed and erased, and its control over the lesser Flood quickly receded.
Its perception twisted into distortion. Boundless darkness swallowed it whole.
And Selene merely watched a fine performance of "fatherly kindness and filial devotion."
Along with the profound malice that—according to all available evidence and with overwhelming likelihood—the final Precursor, the Primordial, had engraved into every microscopic structure (FSC), neuron, and glial configuration within the bodies of the Flood.
Especially its malice toward the Forerunners.
In that instant, hazy and indistinct, Selene felt as though she had stepped into an unknown world. Cold radiance rose slowly, and beneath the shadows lay a shattered ancient city.
Rotten. Deathly still. Devoid of life. A ruined world wrapped in an atmosphere like hell itself.
The earth lay fractured. All things lay dead.
Pale bones rose from the ground, and foul blood soaked the soil. It was as if heaven and earth themselves mourned the fate of their "Creator."
Rustle...
A silent wind howled past. The silver-white hair flowing behind Selene's head fluttered softly as she stepped forward, her clear footsteps echoing through this Precursor ruin destroyed by Forerunner civilization.
Tap...
She stopped.
Before her stood a grotesque being, its entire body resembling an unnatural fusion of ancient arthropod limbs and mammalian anatomy.
It seemed to be trying to tell her something.
It stood roughly six meters tall, nearly as wide as it was high. Its head was flat, low, and broad. Countless tentacles sprouted from its elongated body.
Layered shoulders overlapped one another. Two compound eyes were set far apart, each composed of innumerable tiny lenses that shimmered like unpolished diamonds, gleaming in an unsettling silver-gray hue.
'Millions of years ago, my kind bestowed breath upon you Forerunners, granted you your form, and gave you life. I am the last survivor.'
'I am the final remnant betrayed and mercilessly destroyed by you.'
'I am the last Precursor.'
'The day of our vengeance draws near.'
This was its mission. Its obsession. Its revenge.
Its voice was low and grating, yet in Selene's ears, it lacked hatred. There was no emotional fluctuation at all. It merely recited. As though it felt neither anger nor resentment over the annihilation of its race.
"Even in death, it still maintains the arrogant posture of a Creator. Toward the betrayal of its 'creation,' the Forerunners, the Precursors feel no anger, no hatred. Only condescending punishment and mockery."
The Precursors had placed this leader of a swarm species composed of at least twelve unknown biological templates—the ancient Gravemind—into a storage vessel and cast it onto an abandoned planet at the edge of the galaxy.
It later became known as the Timeless One, also called the Primordial—the grotesque being Selene had just seen within the Gravemind's consciousness network.
Though the Primordial's physical body had long since been destroyed by the Forerunners, as a Precursor individual merged into the Flood, so long as the Flood endured, its consciousness would persist through them.
Through the hive-like mental network of the Flood, fragments of the Primordial's awareness influenced all Flood forms—including the Gravemind.
Beyond annihilating Forerunner civilization as a trial of inheritance, it had another purpose: to reveal the truth of the Precursor-Forerunner war to any who sought it.
Having obtained what she wanted, Selene's secondary consciousness swiftly withdrew.
Her eyes opened, and she instantly severed herself from the Gravemind's mental network.
Before her, the Gravemind lay motionless on the ground. The small eyes hidden beneath layers of membrane had lost their luster.
Selene had no interest in continuing pointless conversation. Her indifferent gaze swept over it.
Hum—!
Crackle!
The atmosphere ignited from nothingness. Flames roared as if searing a slab of fatty meat rich with oil. Nailed in place by a rectangular prism forged of Imaginary energy, the bloated creature writhed like an oversized maggot. Its flesh tore apart, spraying thick chunks of rotten meat that sizzled as they burned.
"You are no longer useful."
She clenched her hand.
Bang!
The aberrant monster exploded instantly, shattering into blazing fragments of decayed flesh that scattered like meteors.
They fell upon the land eroded by Honkai energy and dissolved within moments, erased completely—leaving not even a trace.
After finishing, Selene shook her head and slowly lowered her hand.
As for whether the historical secrets she had read were true, whether the being in the Gravemind's mental network truly was the Primordial, whether it was truly a Precursor—or merely a rotting corpse formed from Flood-infected victims, a puppet pet of the Precursors, or a consciousness implanted into a walking corpse...
Selene had no interest whatsoever.
Reading it had been nothing more than idle curiosity. For amusement. Whatever their relationship, it was irrelevant. As long as she obtained the usage of the Star Roads, the locations of abandoned Precursor sites, the coordinates of the Forerunner Greater Ark, and the distribution of remaining Flood, that was enough.
Whoosh!
With a wave, she scattered the residual bones of the Flood into dust. Stepping forward, she left the impact crater and headed toward distant, intact structures.
Under the purification—erosion—of Honkai energy, the fungal carpets, vines, tendrils, and fleshy tumors clinging to the exotic architecture rapidly dissolved and fell away, revealing the magnificent, colossal geometric aesthetics of the Forerunners beneath.
She lifted her head. Brilliant artificial sunlight from the inner surface poured down, dazzling photons filling her microscopic vision.
Click... Click...
Above, the towering internal dome responded to Selene's Herrscher authority. Under her forceful seizure, the enormous inner tunnel entrance began to open. The dark starry sky and the vast fleet's engine plasma flames were instantly reflected upon the lakes of the Shield World's inner surface.
"The 'inheritance' successor? I have no interest at all. This is the true pleasure that belongs to me."
Amid thunderous rumbling, watching drop pods, assault craft, and transport ships descend one after another, Selene stood atop a hill and spread her arms, speaking with evident satisfaction.
I came. I saw. I conquer.
She turned slightly.
Beneath her feet, an eerie purple-crimson radiance spread at blinding speed. In the blink of an eye, it invaded every corner of the Shield World, leaving not a single blind spot.
Even in the vacuum beyond the Shield World, the faint golden "river of stars" hidden within the cosmos was eroded by the escaping Honkai energy. Like a drop of ink falling into clear water, it spread across the galaxy. The Star Roads, stretching as though toward the end of the universe, began to tremble.
...
On the outer edge of the Milky Way, within the Orion Arm, an unknown star system.
The galaxy remained as dazzling and magnificent as ever. It embraced all beauty and all sin, as though everything in existence only served to make its spectacle more exquisite.
And now, the arrival of a vast Covenant fleet shattered the stillness of this region of space.
A colossal warship, grand enough to rival a small celestial body, emerged from slipspace. Countless Covenant vessels clustered around it.
It traveled through the dark void at sublight speed, like an endless cycle. Until it reached the end of its sacred pilgrimage, this massive ship would never stop...
Its appearance resembled a gigantic mushroom—broad at the top and narrow below. From the lower section extended countless vertical docking platforms capable of housing other large warships. Enormous thrusters were mounted upon the mushroom-like crown.
A transparent shield, like glass, enveloped its upper portion. These powerful defenses protected the vessel from unpredictable dangers.
Constructed from lightweight yet highly elastic metal-based composite frameworks, its hull was covered in streamlined nano-laminated plating. With a diameter of 348 kilometers and a length exceeding 600 kilometers, this vessel surpassed anything created by the Unified Earth Government.
Within the smooth, mushroom-crowned hull lay an interior comparable to a small asteroid—a fully self-sustaining, recyclable world.
Independent ecosystems and environments flourished inside. Forests and natural regions, urban districts, innumerable production plants, weapons factories, legions and military units, mechs, escort ships of every size, and dense clusters of buildings and fortresses...
It was a mobile celestial metropolis—the Covenant capital, High Charity.
At the summit of High Charity stood the Temple.
This complex had been constructed around the veneration of "holy relics." Those who resided here were, without question, the San'Shyuum who claimed the title of Prophets—core members of the Covenant's High Council, wielders of religious interpretation and supreme administrative authority.
Though these hunched, long-necked San'Shyuum were pitifully few in number compared to the Sangheili and Jiralhanae—who fought and died on the front lines—their living quarters were anything but modest.
The Unggoy and Kig-Yar would weep at the sight.
This magnificent city, jointly constructed by the San'Shyuum and the Sangheili, featured architecture dominated by purple, blue, and silver tones. Metallic structures bore inscriptions of divine glory and sacred epigraphy. The ground was paved with intricate, sanctified patterns. Flanking the great gates stood statues of the greatest Sangheili Zealot martyrs throughout history. The stairways were lined with countless symbols replicating Forerunner "holy relics."
The more one lacks something, the more one must display it.
Collecting and replicating so many Forerunner relics was nothing more than an attempt to further emphasize their own sanctity—to proclaim themselves as the inheritors of the "gods."
And the abundance of Sangheili martyr statues revealed a certain self-awareness among the San'Shyuum. They knew their individual combat strength was lacking. They required assistance. Thus they exalted renowned Sangheili warriors as the divine guardians of the "gods."
"We were still too late. Cursed be it!"
Within the innermost hall, a San'Shyuum Prophet clad in resplendent robes tapped the armrest of his hovering throne in fury. His hunched body, elongated neck, and deeply furrowed, aged skin were fully exposed.
"What are your thoughts? This is not the time for internal strife." His dark mood made his already unpleasant features appear even uglier as he scanned the two beside him.
"Hmph... That is not a question for me, but for you. You overstepped."
Seated upon another hovering throne to the left, similarly adorned in luxurious garments, another Prophet let out a sharp, grating chuckle.
"Mercy you..."
Choked by the retort, the central High Prophet slammed the armrest with his frail, nearly atrophied San'Shyuum body. Yet he ultimately restrained himself and turned toward the third.
"Regret, share your intelligence. The coordinates within human territory concern the Covenant..." He paused briefly. "They concern the survival of our species."
"I only just obtained those coordinates from human insurgents. Truth, how did you come by this knowledge?"
The Prophet on the right sneered before his expression darkened.
"Have you been spying on me?"
These three were the Covenant's three High Prophets. From left to right: the Prophet of Mercy, the Prophet of Truth, and the Prophet of Regret.
Together with other San'Shyuum and Sangheili councilors, they formed the Covenant's supreme governing body.
The one who had spoken first—the one now faintly targeted by the other two—was the leader among them: the Prophet of Truth.
In truth, he had brought much of this upon himself. Relying on the vast influence under his command, he had long treated himself as the Covenant's supreme ruler.
But following the counteroffensive raids launched by human civilization, multiple Jiralhanae legions and fleets under his authority—previously stationed within Covenant core territory—had suffered devastating destruction across several fronts.
The balance of power among the three High Prophets had shifted.
Among them, the Prophet of Truth relied most heavily on the Jiralhanae, considering them superior warriors to the Sangheili—strong, blunt instruments. This placed him in direct opposition to the Prophet of Regret, whose power base rested primarily with the Sangheili.
As for the Prophet of Mercy—he was a moderate. Hardly worth mentioning.
Internal conflict was not a human monopoly. Though all three High Prophets claimed to act for the Covenant and for the benefit of the San'Shyuum, there would always be a hierarchy. Why should the greater share not belong to me?
Such situations were common. Even among wartime alliances—mortal enemies looming at their gates—did that prevent supposed allies from undermining one another behind the scenes? They dug their pits regardless, without hesitation.
"You will lead the vanguard," the Prophet of Regret said calmly, lightly tapping his armrest.
"..."
The Prophet of Truth's expression shifted several times before he finally nodded through clenched teeth.
"Very well."
"But you must act quickly. Humanity has likely uncovered the truth of the relic and activated it. They may have obtained the inheritance of the gods. We must seize the time."
As he spoke, the Prophet of Truth clenched his fists and lowered his head.
"May the path of our ascension not be ruined in the hands of the three of us."