As Samuel Young's words faded, Nova, Stone, and the other Ghost operatives felt as though a veil of fog had been lifted from their minds.
Their pupils slightly dilated, and their eyes gradually grew clear and resolute.
Unconsciously, Nova pressed a hand to her temple, sensing an unprecedented feeling spreading through the depths of her consciousness.
"We pledge ourselves to the Empire and the Emperor!"
Without coordination, all four dropped to one knee, right fists pressed to left chests in perfect unison.
Their voices echoed through the gilded hall, carrying a reverence never heard before.
Samuel Young nodded faintly, the embossed figures on the golden throne behind him casting a majestic shadow as his gaze swept over the renewed expressions of the four.
Nova's previously tense jawline had softened, her eyes shining with resolve. Stone's now-straightened posture radiated a newfound sense of purpose.
"Return to Universe 18 (StarCraft)," Samuel Young said with calm strength. "Infiltrate the Terran Dominion."
He raised his left hand, palm facing up, and a soft golden light slowly coalesced in the air.
"Convert more of your comrades."
The golden light flowed like a living entity, expanding into a shimmering screen.
Nova instinctively held her breath as a scene from the planet Korhal appeared within the light—a familiar skyline, the Terran Dominion's central spire casting a long shadow under the setting sun.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Nova responded first, her voice clearer than ever before.
Stone and the other two immediately echoed, once again pressing fists to chests in salute.
At that moment, Samuel Young waved his left hand lightly, and the golden radiance enveloped Nova, Stone, and the others like a luminous veil.
Nova felt every pore of her body open wide, each inch of skin greedily absorbing the divine energy.
Her golden hair rose without wind, strands shimmering faintly, dancing like flames behind her head.
"Urgh—"
Stone suddenly dropped to one knee, bracing himself with both hands on the floor.
His muscles visibly expanded, straining the loose prison uniform until it clung tightly to his body. The previously injured arm now brimmed with strength.
As for Nova, her pupils had completely turned brilliant gold.
She trembled as she raised her right hand. The psionic energy dancing at her fingertips was no longer the usual ghostly blue—it was the same golden current as Samuel Young's.
Even the advanced psionic techniques she had once struggled to control now came as naturally as breathing. She suddenly realized that with a single thought, she could cause an entire battalion to collapse in unconsciousness.
"This… is a miracle."
The youngest agent murmured to himself.
He tried activating his psionics. A cloaking technique that normally required environmental-adaptive combat suits was now executed instantly—his outline shimmered and vanished like ripples on water, even his breathing undetectable.
Even more astonishing—maintaining the state was effortless.
Another operative stared at the golden patterns that had appeared on his hand.
When he absentmindedly tried telekinesis, a gilded candlestick thirty meters away exploded into dust with a *bang*.
The force startled him into stepping back—before this, moving a teacup at that distance had been his limit.
"…"
Samuel Young, however, frowned slightly—he clearly hadn't expected the operative to destroy his candlestick—but he didn't bother arguing with a "child."
Nova suddenly gripped her temple again as a vast flood of psionic knowledge surged into her awareness.
She saw countless combat techniques—some familiar, some alien.
How to weave psionic matrices for defense. How to transform thought into solid shockwaves. And more.
Meanwhile, Stone was adjusting to his explosive physical strength. A light jump carried him over ten meters into the air, and he landed like a feather.
A punch into the air produced a sonic boom.
What once required power armor was now achievable with pure flesh and blood.
The four looked to each other, each seeing the same awe reflected in the others' eyes.
Nova's fingertips unconsciously traced golden arcs in the air. The glowing trails lingered and eventually formed the Human Empire's dragon crest.
Once more, she was the first to drop to one knee. Her voice trembled slightly from excitement:
"Thank you, Your Majesty. We will not fail you."
Stone and the others followed her lead, kneeling and echoing her vow.
At the same time, Stone realized he could clearly sense the psionic resonance of his three teammates—like torches responding to each other in the dark.
This unprecedented sense of connection filled him with confidence for the mission ahead.
The golden floor reflected their transformed forms. The glowing patterns on their skin gradually faded, but the surging power still roared in their veins.
"Good. Go," Samuel Young said with a slight lift of his hand.
The Imperial Guards stepped forward at once to lead the four out.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Nova took one last look at the figure on the golden throne—the man who had granted her this newfound power.
Samuel Young's eyes followed them until the grand doors fully closed.
His fingers tapped the throne's armrest rhythmically. The gilded floor mirrored his contemplative figure, and the hall's light dimmed, leaving only the faint azure glow of the floating star map behind him.
Dispatching the four Ghosts—including Nova Terra herself—back to the *StarCraft* universe to infiltrate the Terran Dominion under the "blessing" of the Emperor was a move bound to stir enormous waves.
Already feared by various factions, these elite operatives had now exceeded the boundaries of normal threat levels under his psionic augmentation.
The special operations team led by Nova Terra had been fundamentally reborn.
Their psionic fields flowed like liquid gold through their veins. Their muscle fiber density surpassed human limits, and their neural reflexes broke biological thresholds.
Sending such beings into the heart of the Terran Dominion was akin to placing four ticking time bombs beside Arcturus Mengsk's bed.
It was foreseeable that the Dominion's upper echelon would soon plunge into unprecedented chaos and fear.
Yet, what concerned Samuel Young most was not the increase in raw power.
These operatives had fully embraced his "assimilation" because, at their core, they still held a precious spark of humanity.
Especially Nova Terra—this blonde agent had always upheld an unbreakable moral line during missions.
Though she had executed countless secret operations for both the Dominion and Confederacy, her condition had always been to preserve the greater good. If a mission endangered too many innocents, she would refuse to carry it out.
Samuel Young's memory conjured scenes from the *Nova Covert Ops* DLC—
The flicker of struggle and mercy in her ice-blue eyes. The way she fought desperately to protect colonies. Her eventual disillusionment with Valerian Mengsk's rule—seeing it as little different from Arcturus's—and her firm decision to walk away.
At the end of the game, she led her loyal team away aboard the Griffon, her retreating figure already a testament to the justice burning in her bones.
"Nature…"
Samuel Young's fingers tapped again, the crisp sound echoing through the golden hall.
Now blessed with greater power, Nova's team would act with even more restraint—for they deeply understood the responsibility such strength carried.
Unlike those willing to sacrifice anything for results, these operatives would always weigh consequences before acting, minimizing civilian harm. That trait was the key reason Samuel Young had chosen them.
Elsewhere, not long after—
Near the departure zone of the interdimensional gate connecting to the *StarCraft* universe.
Four figures completed their final gear checks before boarding the transport back to Universe 18. Their newly issued nano-combat suits shimmered with dark-gold patterns—the mark of the Emperor's blessing.
Nova swiftly tied up her golden hair, ice-blue eyes shining with firm resolve.
This time, she would return to the Dominion not as a pawn, but with new power and purpose.
In just a brief audience with the Human Emperor, Nova Terra had come to understand her true mission: to use her vast psionic power to protect humanity and safeguard her people—not to serve corrupt politicians or be drawn into needless conflicts.
The Terran Dominion's leadership would never suspect that their finest Ghost operatives had become the deadliest blades poised to overthrow them.
**Universe 18, near Char system orbit.**
Two brilliant streaks of blue light tore through the deep void like lightning.
The *Hyperion* completed its jump first, its thick armor plates gleaming with cold metallic luster under the star's glow.
Following closely behind was a massive, aggressive-looking warship.
Though modeled after the Human Empire's Emperor-class battleships, its four-kilometer-long hull was clearly scaled down.
Painted in shark-gray camouflage, the ship bore the Raven Guard insignia and the distinct jagged teeth emblem of the Flesh Eaters unit.
This was a new cruiser belonging to the 4th Company, Flesh Eaters, of the Raven Guard.
Inside the *Hyperion* bridge, the blue glow of the holo-display lit the crew's tense expressions.
Jim Raynor adjusted his custom CMC power armor. The joints clicked in rhythmic metallic snaps. Tychus Findlay puffed a half-burnt cigar, a cloud of gray-blue smoke forming over his head. Ashes fell onto the console unnoticed.
"Signal confirmed. The Raven Guard's 4th Company cruiser has completed sync-jump,"
came Matt Horner's voice.
Suddenly, a towering holo-image appeared on the main screen—a giant clad in Titan power armor nearly filled the entire frame.
Sharp shark-gill exhaust fins jutted from both sides of the helmet. The chest plate bore a dripping fang motif etched in dark red fluid.
"Commander Raynor," the voice rasped like sandpaper. The armor's breathing vents exhaled white mist with each word. "I am Cass Rory. Per our agreement, my third assault platoon will provide support."
"Appreciate the backup."
Raynor nodded, though the grizzled commander had the impression that this "Cass Rory" looked ready to explode at any moment.
"Jimmy, time for some real talk."
Tychus turned toward Raynor, his cigar bobbing as he spoke. "Moebius Foundation's artifact-recovery team went dark three days ago. Now it's our mess."
Raynor frowned, dragging a tactical map with his armored gauntlet. "Old buddy, just what the hell is this Moebius Foundation?"
"Hell if I know." Tychus exaggerated a shrug, his armor hissing with pressure. "They always contact me first. Never the other way around."
He tapped ash from his cigar. "But they never skimp on the pay. That says a lot."
Nearby, Leon exchanged a glance with Mike and Chris.
From Intel's data, they knew the Moebius Foundation was deeply tied to the Dominion. Some execs were likely direct relatives of Arcturus Mengsk.
But to maintain cooperation with the Raiders, ease Raynor's concerns, and bait the Foundation into revealing themselves, they kept silent.
"Tactical analysis complete."
Matt Horner broke the silence, projecting data onto the main screen. "We've detected massive psionic activity on Char's surface. Coordinates match 92% with Moebius's dig site. It's likely they were wiped out by the Protoss."
At those words, Cass Rory suddenly leaned forward in the holo—his shark-helmet nearly bursting through the screen. "Discussion time's over."
His power armor roared. "Time to show those bastards what real war looks like."
In the *Hyperion*'s hangar, medevacs, dropships, and drop pods stood ready.
The cruiser's hull split open, revealing giant drop capsules packed with heavy armored vehicles. Thousands of support troops lined up inside. The charging lights of hardlight rifles formed a red river in the dim hangar.
Raynor took a deep breath and activated the ship-wide broadcast: "All Raiders, this is not a drill."
His voice rang through every chamber. "Repeat: this is not a drill. Drop teams deploy in three minutes."
Tychus slammed his cigar into the console, extinguishing it. The clink of his ammo belts echoed as he moved. "Finally, some action!"
He nudged nano-armored Leon with a smirk. "Well, old man? Wanna bet 500 credits who finds the artifact first?"
"You'll lose."
Leon chuckled, checking his hardlight rifle's energy levels.
Behind him, Chris had already clipped plasma grenades to his tactical belt. The crisp clink of metal sounded like wind chimes.
As the countdown hit zero, the two great ships stirred like awakening beasts.
Engines roared. Sealed drop doors slammed shut.
Against Char's burning, orange-red surface, the blood-soaked battle for the artifact was about to begin.
(End of Chapter)
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