The moment Kerrigan laid eyes on Arcturus Mengsk, her carefully maintained calm shattered like glass.
It was him. This man. If not for his betrayal, his calculated cruelty, she wouldn't have become what she was now. She wouldn't be this hybrid of human and monster, this creature of carapace and bone-wings and alien instincts.
Yes, her power had grown exponentially since the transformation. She commanded forces that could darken the skies of entire worlds, possessed psionic abilities that dwarfed what she'd had as a Ghost operative. From a purely practical standpoint, she was far stronger now than she'd ever been as a human.
But she missed her humanity. Missed the simple things—the feel of real clothes against skin instead of organic armor, the taste of actual food instead of raw biomass, the warmth of Jim's touch without the constant awareness that she might accidentally hurt him with her enhanced strength.
She missed being Sarah, not the Queen of Blades.
"Mengsk," Kerrigan's voice was cold fury given sound. "You deserve to die."
Mengsk stared back at her with unfocused eyes, his expression oddly calm—not from courage or acceptance, but from cognitive impairment. The electrical torture Will had administered had been severe enough to damage his brain. His consciousness kept slipping in and out, thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm.
The stimulation had been too strong, too prolonged. Parts of his mind simply weren't functioning correctly anymore.
"Sarah," Jim said quietly, approaching with Mengsk's limp form in his arms. "Don't let his mistakes poison you further. This is between you and him. No one else."
He lifted Mengsk like he weighed nothing—which, given the former Emperor's weakened state, wasn't far from truth—and tossed him toward Kerrigan.
She caught him easily with one clawed hand, fingers wrapping around his throat. Then she began to squeeze.
The pressure on his windpipe, the sudden inability to breathe, shocked Mengsk's damaged brain back toward full consciousness. His eyes focused with panicked clarity, and when he recognized the face inches from his own, real terror flooded through him.
"Why... why is it... you?" he managed to choke out, each word a struggle.
"You didn't expect to see me again?" Kerrigan's face twisted with rage, with years of accumulated fury finally finding release.
Psionic energy began to flow from her body, channeling down her arm and into Mengsk. It poured through her fingers where they gripped his throat, invading his body like liquid fire.
The energy saturated his tissues, flooding his bloodstream, filling his cells with power they were never meant to contain. A faint glow began to emanate from beneath Mengsk's skin—light shining through his blood vessels like some grotesque illumination.
The glow intensified as more and more psionic energy poured into him. Within seconds, Mengsk looked less like a man and more like a human-shaped lantern, his entire body radiating blue-white light.
Kerrigan's fingers suddenly clenched with brutal force.
BOOM!
Mengsk exploded like an overcharged grenade. The psionic energy saturating his body detonated all at once, vaporizing flesh and bone and scattering the remains across space in a brief, bright flash.
The former Emperor of the Terran Dominion ended his life as a gruesome firework display.
"Damn," Tychus breathed, staring at the dissipating cloud of what used to be his former employer. "The Queen of Blades doesn't do anything halfway, does she?"
This was his first time meeting Kerrigan in her transformed state, and she'd certainly made an impression. His previous boss had just been converted into cosmic debris right in front of him.
With Mengsk's death, some of the tension drained from Kerrigan's frame. The immediate fury that had driven her for so long finally had release, had found satisfaction. She turned to face Jim, her glowing eyes softer now, carrying genuine regret.
"I'm sorry, Jim," she said quietly. "I can't come back. You saw Zeratul's prophecy—you understand now. I have to stop what's coming. I have to face Amon."
"I know." Jim's voice was thick with emotion, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "But I need you to know something, Sarah. I need you to hear it, no matter what happens next."
He took a breath, steadying himself.
"I love you. I've always loved you. That hasn't changed, and it never will."
The words hung between them—simple, honest, carrying the weight of everything they'd been through together.
Kerrigan's expression cracked, genuine emotion showing through the monstrous exterior. "Jim, I—"
"I know," he said again, saving her from having to respond. "And I'll wait. However long it takes, whatever you have to become. I'll be here when you're done saving the universe."
They'd shared so much—battles and laughter and quiet moments between the chaos. But now Jim couldn't stop what came next. Kerrigan needed to evolve again, needed to become something even more powerful than the Queen of Blades. And he couldn't interfere with that process, no matter how much it hurt to let her go.
Because sometimes love meant stepping back. Letting the person you loved walk a path you couldn't follow.
Dark Astar – Observation Deck
"What are they doing?" General Zod frowned as he watched the emotional exchange through the viewscreen. His voice carried genuine confusion.
The human and the Zerg-human hybrid were staring at each other, speaking words that seemed painfully inadequate for their situation. All this after viewing some prophecy stored in Protoss memory devices.
It seemed... inefficient. Overly sentimental.
"They're trying to save the universe," Marcus replied with an amused smile, his tone suggesting he found the whole situation entertaining.
Zod's frown deepened dramatically. "Save the universe? What exactly was in that prophecy sphere?"
The answer clearly mattered. Zod had no desire to establish New Krypton only to have it destroyed by some cosmic catastrophe shortly after construction was complete.
"In simple terms? There's a massive threat lurking in this universe," Marcus explained. "An ancient being planning to destroy all life and end the cycle of creation. What they saw was a warning about what's coming, and instructions on how to stop it."
"So there's an imminent danger that could destroy everything?" Zod's tone had shifted from curious to concerned. "How imminent are we talking?"
"Depends on various factors," Marcus said with a casual shrug. "But yeah, big bad incoming. If you're interested in helping ensure your new homeworld survives, you're welcome to participate in stopping it."
Marcus kept his explanation vague, but the core truth was simple enough. The Dark Xel'Naga Amon represented an existential threat to the Koprulu Sector. And his servant, Dr. Narud, had already completed research on hybrid creatures—beings that combined Protoss and Zerg traits into new, powerful forms.
These hybrids were meant to serve as vessels for Amon. Bodies he could inhabit, forms that merged the purity of essence from the Protoss with the purity of form from the Zerg.
Narud had created two distinct hybrid variants. One used the Protoss as its base template, resulting in a creature with overwhelming psionic power but relatively weaker physical capabilities. The other used Zerg genetics as its foundation, creating something with incredible physical might but less refined psionic ability.
Neither was perfect. Both were compromises, combining the strengths of two species but unable to achieve true balance between them.
If a perfect Xel'Naga vessel existed, it would be Sarah Kerrigan—the Queen of Blades. She already combined human consciousness with Zerg adaptability and emerging psionic might. Currently, she resembled the Protoss-based hybrid, possessing great psionic power but with physical abilities that, while impressive, weren't fully balanced with her mental capabilities.
But if Kerrigan evolved again, underwent another transformation, her body and spirit would unify completely. She'd achieve perfect balance between purity of essence and purity of form, becoming something unprecedented—a new Xel'Naga born from three different species' traits.
"If you genuinely want to understand the situation," Marcus continued, "you could actually participate. After all, you're planning to live here permanently. Might as well help protect your new home."
Zod considered this for several long moments, his strategic mind weighing options and calculating risks. Then he glanced at Faora and gave her a subtle gesture—a quick series of eye movements that conveyed clear instructions through their established non-verbal communication.
Go. Listen. Learn what we're facing.
Faora nodded once, acknowledging the order. Without hesitation, she launched herself from the Dark Star's observation deck, her form cutting through the void toward the Void Seeker at tremendous speed.
Everyone gathered on Zeratul's ship noticed her approach immediately. Among them, Kerrigan felt Faora's presence most acutely. Her psionic senses picked up something unusual about the approaching figure—power that registered as dangerous, as competitive.
This woman was a genuine threat. A real opponent who could match her in combat.
When Faora landed gracefully on the Void Seeker's hull, standing easily in hard vacuum, Jim turned to address both Kerrigan and Zeratul with quick introductions.
"Sarah, Zeratul, this is one of the allies I mentioned. We met on Typhon. She and her people helped us capture Mengsk and overthrow the Dominion."
Jim remained deeply grateful to Zod's group, though most of his gratitude belonged to Marcus. The mysterious man's intervention on Typhon had been the turning point that made everything else possible.
"I want to understand this prophecy you've been discussing," Faora said directly, getting straight to business. "Can you share it with me?"
"Uh..." Jim blinked in surprise at the blunt request. Then he recovered and nodded. "Yeah, of course. This isn't really a secret—we're going to need all the help we can get. The enemy we're facing is... well, you'll see."
He held out the memory sphere he'd been carrying, then spent a few minutes explaining how to interface with Protoss technology. The devices were intuitive once you understood the basics, but they required some instruction for first-time users.
While Jim worked with Faora, Kerrigan observed the newcomer carefully, her enhanced senses cataloging every detail. "She's extraordinarily powerful," she murmured to Zeratul. "Where did they find someone like this?"
"The universe is vast and boundless," Zeratul replied philosophically, though his tone carried its own note of surprise. "No one can claim to know all its secrets. Ten thousand years ago, my people never imagined our greatest challenge would come from the Zerg—a species that mastered purity of physical form while we pursued purity of essence. There are always unknown civilizations waiting to be discovered, always new powers emerging from the darkness between stars."
"Wait," Jim's voice suddenly cut through their conversation, drawing everyone's attention back to him. He was staring at Faora with renewed interest. "You said you want to understand the prophecy. Does that mean you're planning to help? To join the fight against Amon?"
Both Kerrigan and Zeratul turned sharply toward Faora, surprise evident on their faces. They'd just been discussing facing the Dark Xel'Naga Amon—an ancient, godlike being of immense power—and this stranger wanted to volunteer?
"We're planning to establish permanent residence in the Koprulu Sector," Faora explained calmly, her expression neutral. "For our future survival and development, we need to ensure the region remains stable. That means dealing with threats before they can destroy everything we're trying to build."
She spoke with the practical tone of a military officer assessing strategic necessities, not the passionate conviction of an idealist.
"Joining your operation serves our interests," she continued. "And after the conflict concludes, our contribution to the war effort will provide leverage for negotiating additional territorial concessions. We're looking to acquire more resource-rich planets for colonization."
It was refreshingly honest. No pretense of pure altruism, no grand speeches about defending the innocent. Just straightforward calculation of mutual benefit.
"This... this is incredible!" Jim's face lit up with genuine excitement. "With your people helping, our odds of success just increased dramatically. Welcome aboard!"
As he spoke, his gaze drifted past Faora toward the massive Dark Star visible in the distance. His expression made it clear he was including Marcus in his mental calculations—assuming the mysterious void-wielder would be part of the alliance.
Faora caught the look immediately and quickly corrected his assumption.
"You're misunderstanding the situation," she said firmly. "It's just us—General Zod's forces. Marcus won't be participating."
What?
Jim's excitement faltered, confusion replacing it. "Wait, why wouldn't Marcus join? He's clearly the most powerful one in your group. We could really use—"
"We're not actually with Marcus," Faora interrupted, cutting off that line of thinking. "We have a business arrangement with him—a transaction. Once that deal is completed, we'll part ways. He has his own objectives that don't involve your conflict."
After Faora's explanation, understanding dawned on Jim's face. "Oh. I see. You're more like temporary allies rather than a unified group."
That made sense, actually. The dynamics he'd observed between Marcus and the others had always seemed a bit off—professional rather than personal, transactional rather than based on shared ideology.
"But still," Jim murmured, almost to himself, "why wouldn't he want to help? With his abilities..."
Faora didn't answer. Truth was, she didn't know the full extent of Marcus's capabilities either. None of the Kryptonians did. They only understood that Marcus's power existed on a level that made them feel genuinely helpless, that fighting him would be utterly futile.
He was simply that strong. Beyond their ability to measure or challenge.
The group spent considerable time on Zeratul's ship, hammering out details and establishing preliminary plans. They discussed Kerrigan's next evolution, potential threats from Amon's forces, strategic resource allocation, and coordination between their various factions.
Jim, Kerrigan, Zeratul, and Faora made for an unlikely alliance, but the threat they faced demanded cooperation across traditional boundaries.
They were preparing to conclude the meeting and return to their respective vessels when a ship suddenly streaked past the Void Seeker—moving fast, its trajectory suggesting desperate flight rather than casual travel.
"Jim!" Valerian's voice burst through the comm system, urgent and confused. "That's Dr. Narud's ship! You need to stop him! He just attacked my security personnel without warning, stole a vessel, and escaped. I don't know what's happening, but we can't let him get away!"
"Dr. Narud?" Jim's eyes narrowed as he tracked the fleeing vessel. It was already charging its warp drive, preparing to jump away from Korhal's space.
This couldn't be coincidence. The timing was too perfect, too suspicious.
"Zeratul, I need a favor," Jim said quickly. "Can you stop that ship before it warps out?"
"Of course." The Dark Templar moved with practiced efficiency toward his ship's weapons controls.
A beam of pure energy lanced out from the Void Seeker, crossing the distance in an instant and striking the fleeing vessel directly. The attack disrupted the warp field that had been building, causing the entire jump sequence to fail catastrophically.
Then the beam's secondary function activated—a tractor field that grabbed the ship with irresistible force and began pulling it back toward the Void Seeker.
Simultaneously, Faora received updated orders from General Zod through their comm system. Without hesitation, she launched herself from the Void Seeker toward the captured vessel, moving to intercept and secure it.
Dark Aster – Observation Deck
"Ha! This Xel'Naga still couldn't escape after all."
Marcus laughed openly as he watched the fleeing ship get captured, genuine amusement in his voice. He'd been waiting to see if Narud would try to run, and sure enough, the ancient being had panicked.
As Marcus laughed, General Zod and several other Kryptonians rose from their observation positions and followed him toward the exit. If they were capturing a Xel'Naga, they wanted to witness it firsthand.
Together, they launched into space, flying toward the captured vessel in formation.
Then Marcus's voice boomed across every communication channel simultaneously, amplified by psionic power to reach every ship and every listening station in the system:
"Tell me, honored Xel'Naga—where exactly were you planning to run?"
The words echoed through everyone's minds, carried on waves of telepathic energy that bypassed normal communication entirely.
Every human on Korhal who was listening to comm traffic froze. Every soldier, every civilian, every officer monitoring the situation.
Marcus had called Dr. Narud a Xel'Naga on the Dark Aster earlier, but many had assumed he was joking or mistaken. But now he was repeating the claim publicly, broadcasting it across the entire system.
Could Dr. Narud genuinely be a Xel'Naga? One of the legendary creators?
Zeratul and Kerrigan exchanged sharp, suspicious glances. Their enemy was the Dark Xel'Naga Amon. They'd just finished discussing that threat, reviewing prophecies about his return.
And now, moments later, another Xel'Naga appeared right in front of them? That couldn't be random chance.
"Could Narud really be one of them?" Zeratul wondered aloud, studying the captured vessel with new intensity.
Kerrigan's eyes narrowed, psionic senses extending toward the ship, trying to penetrate its hull and analyze what—or who—was inside.
Inside the vessel, Narud realized his warp drive wasn't going to recover in time. The disruption had been too thorough, the damage too severe. Escape was impossible now.
"Damn you!" he snarled, dropping all pretense. "DAMN YOU!"
His voice erupted outward, carried on a massive wave of psionic energy. Blue light blazed from the ship's viewports as he channeled power, and a concentrated beam of psionic destruction shot toward Marcus.
"If you hadn't interfered," Narud's mental voice screamed across the psionic attack, "my identity would still be secret! I could have continued my work! Zeratul wouldn't have found me! This is YOUR fault!"
Every setback traced back to Marcus. The exposure, the prophecy holders arriving at exactly the wrong moment, the loss of his cover—all of it came back to that cursed void-wielder.
If Marcus hadn't revealed him on the Dark Aster, everything would have proceeded according to plan. He could have continued creating hybrids for Amon, preparing vessels for his master's return.
The blue psionic beam screamed across space toward Marcus, carrying enough power to vaporize most beings on contact.
Marcus looked almost bored. He raised one hand casually, waving it like he was swatting away an annoying insect.
Void energy rippled outward in response to the gesture. The wave of darkness met the blue psionic attack head-on, and for a brief moment, the two energies fought for dominance.
Then the void simply consumed the psionic energy. Assimilated it. Converted it into more void power that flowed back toward Marcus harmlessly.
The entire exchange took perhaps two seconds. Narud's most powerful attack had been negated without Marcus even trying hard.
Narud stared in disbelief. That was impossible. The Xel'Naga existed in the Void between incarnations—they understood its nature intimately. But they couldn't control it, couldn't command it like this human apparently could.
Psionic energy should have been able to at least resist void power, even if it couldn't overcome it entirely. But his attack had been converted, transformed, made into something else.
"You know," Marcus said conversationally as he and the Kryptonians arrived at the captured ship, "as a Xel'Naga, willingly serving another Xel'Naga—that genuinely surprises me. I thought your species had more pride than that."
The vast void power he'd absorbed from Narud's attack flowed back into his body, dissipating harmlessly. Marcus gestured to Faora, who'd been waiting by the ship's airlock.
"Open it up. Let's show everyone what a living Xel'Naga actually looks like."
Faora nodded and gripped the ship's external hatch. Her fingers dug into the reinforced metal like it was aluminum foil, and with a single heave of effort, she tore the entire airlock door off its frame.
The heavy barrier, designed to withstand micrometeorite impacts and maintain pressure integrity, came away in her hands like it weighed nothing.
"God," Tychus breathed from his position on the Hyperion, watching through a magnified viewport. "No matter how many times I see them do that, it never stops being terrifying. That's a spaceship. You're not supposed to be able to just... tear pieces off with your bare hands!"
The other observers shared his amazement. This wasn't some flimsy door or civilian structure—this was a vessel built for space travel, with hull plating and airlocks designed to maximum safety standards.
And Faora had dismantled it like it was a cardboard box.
Moreover, Marcus and all the Kryptonians were just floating in space. No suits, no visible propulsion, no life support systems. They moved through hard vacuum like they were taking a casual stroll through a park.
What kind of beings could survive unaided in space? What species possessed that level of physical capability?
As everyone watched in stunned silence, one of the Kryptonians entered the damaged ship and emerged moments later dragging Dr. Narud.
The scientist—or rather, the being pretending to be a scientist—was brought out into open space and presented before the assembled witnesses like a captured criminal.
"As a Xel'Naga," Marcus said with an amused smile, "you volunteered to become someone's servant. Someone's slave. I have to admit, that genuinely surprises me. I thought your kind valued their independence."
Narud glared at him with undisguised hatred, his human disguise starting to flicker under the stress. "Amon will return! The cycle will end! This universe will be purified, and all the failed experiments will be cleansed from existence!"
His voice carried fanatical conviction, the absolute certainty of a true believer.
"The end of the cycle?" Marcus replied dismissively. "And what exactly does that have to do with me? Do you really think your master can influence me? Do you believe Amon poses any threat to what I am?"
His tone made it clear he considered Amon's plans to be the ravings of a madman—which, to be fair, they essentially were.
Amon was a Xel'Naga who'd lost everything—his people, his purpose, his place in the cycle of creation. In his rage and grief, he'd decided that if he couldn't have eternal life and dominion, then nothing should exist at all.
So he wanted to end the cycle of creation by exterminating all life in the universe. Somehow, he believed that would break the fundamental cosmic processes that the Xel'Naga had discovered but not created.
It was delusional. Even if Amon succeeded in killing every living thing across multiple galaxies, the cycle wouldn't stop. Reality would continue. New life would eventually emerge. And new Xel'Naga would arise from that life to discover the same cosmic truths their predecessors had found.
You couldn't end existence by throwing a tantrum, no matter how powerful you were.
"The great Amon will destroy ALL of you!" Narud suddenly screamed, his voice rising to a shriek.
Then his entire body blazed with psionic power.
A massive wave of energy erupted outward in all directions—a devastating psionic explosion meant to shatter consciousness itself. It wasn't a physical attack meant to damage bodies; it was a mental assault designed to destroy minds.
Everyone caught in the blast radius staggered. Human observers aboard nearby ships clutched their heads as overwhelming psychic pressure crashed over them. Even those with no psionic sensitivity felt something—a sensation like having their thoughts forcibly disrupted, consciousness briefly scattered.
But the Kryptonians, who were closest to Narud, suffered far worse.
They dropped like puppets with cut strings, all of them clutching their heads in obvious agony. Cries of pain echoed across the comm channels as the psionic assault bypassed their physical invulnerability and attacked their minds directly.
General Zod fell to one knee, his face twisted with pain. Faora collapsed entirely, floating limp in space as the psionic energy ravaged her consciousness.
Their greatest weakness, exposed once again.