"…"
At this moment, Samuel Young's fingertip gently tapped the armrest of the Golden Throne, the rhythmic sound echoing through the Meditation Hall.
Though his eyes were closed, his psionic vision pierced the dimensional veil, clearly reflecting the tiny figure curled in Athena's arms—
The newborn primarch's even breaths became soft ripples under psionic perception, as pure as the first drop of water from melting snow.
The child's long lashes trembled faintly in sleep. His tender face bore no trace of worldly emotion—untainted by deceit or artifice—like a blank sheet of paper.
Indeed, even a being created with the Emperor's genes, at the moment of birth, was no more than an empty parchment.
And the growth path of a newborn primarch—or any child—ultimately depended on the one who held the pen—
The mentor's teachings sketch the outlines in silver ink, the companions fill in the details in vibrant glaze, and the behavior of parents…
Samuel's psionic "tendrils" brushed lightly across the edge of the sleeping child's consciousness.
There were no masks of hypocrisy as Fulgrim once described, no twisted shadows as in Warhammer 40k lore—only a nascent thirst for knowledge, burning quietly like a newborn star.
Thus, the role of the parents was all the more vital.
In his psionic vision, he saw Athena gazing down at the child in her arms. Her golden hair hung low, haloed in the soft glow of Mar Sara's sun.
Her lips moved gently, as if whispering to the sleeping primarch—
Perhaps a cradle song from ancient Greece, perhaps a blessing from the Goddess of War.
She caressed the child's forehead with her fingertips, from which glowed a pale golden shimmer of psionic light—like weaving a protective spell for the infant.
The tenderness in her expression was identical to when she once cared for young Ferrus on Tatooine.
It seemed that after sharing time with "Queen of the Gods" Hera in raising Ferrus, the goddess's dormant maternal instincts had been awakened.
Even after she gave up Ferrus to another guardian goddess without complaint or resentment, Samuel knew through both psionic perception and firsthand memory that deep down, Athena had longed for a primarch to raise herself.
However, as Emperor, Samuel Young could not conceive any "non-primarch offspring" until the Empire had reached absolute stability. He had to ensure both internal order and the mental well-being of the primarchs.
Yet within the soul of the Goddess of War remained a lingering regret—of never having borne a child of her own.
Samuel opened his eyes. The golden glow in his pupils slowly faded as he turned his gaze toward the two figures standing silently below the throne—Ap and Melissa—and spoke:
"Transmit this decree."
His voice stirred faint echoes through the hall, causing even the dust in the air to tremble.
"Athena is granted full guardianship of the newborn primarch. He shall be named…"
His gaze rose to the dome above, the name forming in his throat—a syllable that must bear both power and expectation.
"Su Meng."
The moment the name was spoken, the gravity field within the hall subtly warped—as if the name itself carried the weight of some universal law.
"He will remain in Universe 18 until initial unification is complete. Then he shall be brought back to the main universe."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The two intelligent AIs instantly responded and transmitted the Emperor's directive to Athena.
At that moment, in a dedicated med-bay at the Mar Sara frontline base, a holographic projection screen appeared before Athena, who still held the newborn primarch in her arms, displaying the Emperor's orders and instructions.
As she read the message, her arms instinctively tightened around the child.
She felt the baby's warm breath brushing against her chest, its gentle rhythm reminding her of the eaglets she once saw atop Mount Olympus—fragile, yet brimming with life.
Su Meng shifted slightly in his sleep, his chubby little hand grasping a lock of her golden hair. The touch was as light as a butterfly, yet so stubbornly persistent it wouldn't let go.
Athena looked down. The med-bay's soft lighting cast a warm halo over her sharply defined features.
The child's face was mere inches away—
That upturned nose, that smooth brow, and those thin lips so similar to the Emperor's when pursed.
A sensation she had never felt before welled up in her chest—like the fulfillment of forging the perfect blade. After all, she had once lost the chance to raise a child of the Emperor herself.
Outside, Mar Sara's star had reached its zenith. Blazing sunlight filtered through the glass, casting the shadows of the "mother and child" onto the med-bay's metallic walls.
As Athena shifted her embrace, those overlapping silhouettes transformed—finally settling into the shape of a straight longsword: the hilt was the bowed head of the goddess, and the blade, the child curled within her arms.
She gently smoothed the tuft of hair on Su Meng's forehead, her fingers pausing briefly as they touched the soft strands.
In her tens of thousands of years of war, Athena had wielded countless weapons, mastered every art of death—but in this moment, she realized she was about to undertake her most complex lesson yet—
How to shape the raw jade in her arms into a masterpiece even more perfect than the Emperor had imagined.
She would teach this "son" everything she had.
Swish—!
At that moment, the med-bay's automatic doors slid open. A few technicians entered, carrying nutrient solutions calibrated for primarch physiology—but none dared to speak.
They saw the Goddess of War, wearing an expression she had never shown to anyone before, silently mouthing words to the sleeping infant.
Her lips clearly formed: "My child."
Meanwhile, in the Main Universe's Meditation Hall, Samuel withdrew his psionic focus from the newborn and turned his attention to the ongoing unification efforts in the StarCraft universe.
A holographic star chart expanded before him. Mar Sara's coordinates glowed with steady golden light, signifying its full integration into the Empire's domain.
At the chart's edge, a flight path was extending toward Mar Sara.
It belonged to the Flame Lizard 3rd Company's ships—each vessel loaded with refugees evacuated from Agria.
Through his psionic vision, Samuel could see the anxious faces within the ships.
Women clutched their children. Elders rubbed family heirlooms. The young stared out portholes, watching their homeland fade into the distance.
This signaled that all Agria's refugees had been "taken in" by the 3rd Company and were on the verge of becoming citizens under the Human Empire.
Next, the investigation team led by Leon, Mike, and Chris had unearthed a so-called "artifact" on Mar Sara.
According to video logs from the special ops team, they were working deep in the desert. Their nanosuits were splattered with Zerg fluids, likely from encountering wild Zerg.
Chris Redfield, the brawny member, used a prototype gravity gun from the research division to pry open what appeared to be a Xel'naga ruin's gateway—out of which spilled eerie blue light.
Samuel paused the footage, focusing on the device the team had dubbed an "artifact."
It was a polyhedral object with cracks and etched energy lines.
Though he hadn't played StarCraft II in years before his dimensional transmigration, Samuel surmised this artifact was likely the key item that could revert Sarah Kerrigan—the Zerg-infested Queen of Blades—back into human form.
However, Samuel believed that with his own psionic prowess—and with Hera's spellcraft—they could accomplish such "purification" even without the artifact.
With that, Samuel tapped the projection. The holographic interface of the Golden Throne expanded into a secured communications channel.
He issued a new directive to the StarCraft universe's front-line base:
"Capture the high-threat target Queen of Blades, Sarah Kerrigan, alive."
The command was sealed with the Emperor's sigil, radiating golden light—signifying it as an unquestionable absolute order.
Simultaneously, another order was sent to the Olympus Palace in the main universe—
"A directive for Hera: proceed immediately to Mar Sara's frontline base and prepare to execute the gene-reversal protocol."
On the holographic map, a violet dot representing Kerrigan drifted through the Koprulu Sector.
Samuel's gaze swept over the Zerg fleet distribution. Dozens of Hive clusters pulsed on the display.
If Kerrigan could be successfully restored, these leaderless swarms would become like headless snakes. By implanting an Imperial-modified Hive Mind, the Zerg could potentially be repurposed for human use.
Compared to the biological weapons developed by the bio-division, the Zerg were vastly more practical.
Against other universes' insectoid races, the Empire could simply unleash Zerg to fight Zerg—drastically reducing its own losses.
Furthermore, if Hera could successfully purify Kerrigan, Jim Raynor and his Rangers would almost certainly pledge their full support to the Empire—greatly stabilizing Imperial control across the Koprulu Sector. Even the fringe colony worlds would voluntarily align with Imperial rule.
Samuel's gaze returned to the star chart, revealing the sector's strategic overview.
Jim Raynor—legendary leader of the Rangers—his influence rippled across the sector like waves.
That iron-willed yet tender-hearted soldier, whose emotions often overruled logic, was in fact the most useful bargaining chip.
So long as Sarah Kerrigan remained unharmed, Raynor's loyalty would be a certainty.
The soft light of the throne hall reflected Samuel's contemplative expression.
Soon, he raised his hand, and three new orders were dispatched:
To the Imperial Fists, Blood Angels, and Raven Guard—each to deploy a company fleet to Mar Sara.
The Flame Lizard 3rd Company had long been entrenched in the field, achieving brilliant victories at some cost.
Now, it was time for other Legions of glory to join this campaign.
The Imperial Fists would bring unbreakable siege firepower;
The Blood Angels would strike with lightning speed;
The Raven Guard would infiltrate deep behind enemy lines like living shadows.
Four Legions, each with their distinct styles, would now write a new epic beneath the StarCraft stars.
Samuel's fingertip once again tapped the throne armrest as his thoughts turned toward the near future.
When the banners of the four Legions flew over the Koprulu Sector, the Zerg threat would vanish like morning fog.
And Jim Raynor—the hero of the people—would willingly submit to Imperial rule.
As for the Protoss…
At present, the Flame Lizard 3rd Company had yet to encounter them—those psionic warriors who communicated telepathically and wielded formidable psychic power. Nor had any armed conflict occurred.
Thus, Samuel saw no reason to antagonize them.
Judging by StarCraft II and the Nova Covert Ops DLC, the Protoss were not rigid ideologues—except for a few individuals, most were pragmatic and morally driven.
One mission might depict them incinerating a human world, and the next might show them cooperating with Terrans.
This meant their allegiance was flexible.
Therefore, if future engagement led to hostilities, Samuel intended to have the four Legions overwhelm the Protoss into submission—and then use psionics to assert control at the consciousness level.
Having issued these many commands and deployment orders, Samuel dismissed the projections before him and closed his eyes once more.
Though appearing to rest, the Emperor was in truth channeling psionic power to safeguard the entire Human Empire.
Across the dark cosmic veil, sharp blue light tore through the stars as Gaozan's fleet completed its warp and emerged into realspace near Mar Sara.
Aboard the Unyielding Sacred Flame, bridge alarms faded, replaced by status updates from various ships.
Through the windows, the contours of Mar Sara's surface became clear.
"Deploy transports. Prioritize refugee resettlement."
Gaozan stood at the center of the bridge, eyes scanning the streams of data in the holographic projection.
Countless transport craft launched from the fleet's hangars, trailing pale blue ion trails as they descended toward the new city built around the space gate—each packed with civilians evacuated from Agria.
At the central console, Dr. Ariel Hanson's fingers slid across the holographic map. A coordinate labeled "Meinhoff" lit up.
"Commander Gao," she said with exhausted urgency, "Most Agria refugees were preemptively relocated to Meinhoff. That colony exhausted nearly all its supplies to avoid Zerg attack…"
Gaozan looked at her weary face.
Her lab coat still bore traces of disinfectant from the med-bay—clearly fresh from a round of emergency care.
"Meinhoff…" Gaozan murmured, pulling up the planet's file—relatively close to Mar Sara, with decent infrastructure but poor defenses.
"I'll lead the mission myself." He finally nodded, watching hope ignite in her eyes. "But you must inform the refugees—The Empire grants shelter, but also demands loyalty."
"They will," Ariel said, voice suddenly resolute. "We've seen the horrors of the Zerg… and we've witnessed the might of the Human Empire."
Outside the bridge, transports pierced the defense field above the new city.
Beams from the ground's receiving towers glowed like lanterns welcoming children home—shining all the brighter in Mar Sara's twilight.
(End of Chapter)
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