On the silent expanse of metal that stretched endlessly beneath his feet, Jin-Woo landed without a sound. The atmosphere was eerie—thick with dormant energy, as if the very walls remembered war. Towering ceilings loomed above rows of Forerunner architecture, glyphs faintly pulsing beneath transparent plating. This was the Mantle Approach, a ship over 371 kilometers long, a floating superweapon once meant to enforce the Will of the Forerunners.
Jin-Woo's boots touched down within the weapons systems section, surrounded by inactive plasma projectors and silence so complete it pressed against the ears.
From the void of his shadow, they rose—towering, armored, and absolute.
Beru, the hulking Black Ant King, emerged first. His claws gleamed with sharpened tension, antennae twitching with hyper-attunement to the surroundings.
"My liege…" Beru's voice crackled with restrained aggression. "This place is… too quiet."
The moment hung—until Bellion, the Grand Marshal, stepped out next with his signature halberd in hand. His eyes scanned the Forerunner walls with stoic precision, saying nothing.
And then, with slow purpose, Igris appeared—silent, composed, and resolute. The First Knight Jin-Woo had ever raised stood like a black wraith cloaked in darkness, his sword resting at his side .
Jin-Woo didn't turn to them. His gaze was fixed forward.
"That's because the Didact is sealed," he said flatly. "Not awake yet."
Without a further word, he lifted his hand—and his shadow stretched unnaturally across the deck, swelling, warping, expanding like a living tide.
In the next moment , ten million shadow soldiers erupted outward like a vast wave of darkness, flooding through the entire Mantle's Approach. They slipped through corridors, ventilation shafts, sealed hatches—searching, probing, scanning for anything resembling a cryptum. A stasis tomb. A vault of ancient Forerunner authority.
But… nothing.
No Prometheans stirred. No sentinels, no firewalls, no rampancy warnings. If anything remained on this ship, it was either long gone or long dead.
Jin-Woo tilted his head, exhaling slowly.
"...Uhhhhh," he muttered aloud. "We're on a dead ship, huh? Like—completely dead. No one's home."
From behind, Beru rasped, voice calm but tinged with a scolding concern. "My liege… next time, perhaps a more thorough scan before triggering dimensional traversal would be... prudent."
Jin-Woo didn't answer. Instead, his body sank into shadow—vanishing from the weapons system deck in a blink.
He reappeared in the Hall of Command, the nerve center of the Mantle's Approach. The place was frozen in time—crystalline consoles dormant, light bridges dark, Forerunner glyphs flickering with residual energy.
Jin-Woo's hand rose again—this time channeling Mechu Deru, the arcane Sith technique for machine interfacing. Tendrils of corrupted knowledge slithered through the architecture as he pressed into the ancient data structure.
"Find me Requiem," he ordered. "Find where the Didact actually resides."
Within seconds, streams of starlight danced across a suspended holomap. The cursed seal locking Requiem flickered to life—coordinates pulsing faintly in the corner of his vision.
Behind him, Bellion stepped forward, halberd at his back. "To control the Prometheans… that is your aim, my liege?"
Jin-Woo nodded once. "I need the Composer as well." His voice turned lower, colder. "That's the key to rewriting the entire battlefield ."
Bellion, ever steadfast, stepped forward slightly. "My liege… you already command over ten million shadow soldiers. Not counting the Fairy Army that bends to Lady Morgan's call… and the 1.8 million Zakuul Knights under your banner once the cloning process is complete. I believe we've long since passed the threshold of overwhelming."
Jin-Woo turned his head just enough for Bellion to see his narrowed gaze through the visor. "We'll talk about that later."
He raised a hand, fingers subtly shifting the mana pattern in his shadow. "Leave behind one million shadow soldiers. If the Didact ever awakens, he won't be able to hijack the Mantle's Approach. My shadow mana here is too dense… too heavy. This ship is already claimed."
The atmosphere grew still as the remaining shadows hardened—entrenching themselves through the decks and infrastructure like veins of living iron .
Then Jin-Woo turned away.
A dark portal tore open behind him, rippling in slow, gravitational pulses of black and violet.
Without hesitation, he stepped through—vanishing from the Mantle's Approach as his destination locked in:
Requiem. Toward the Didact's Cryptum.
Jin-Woo emerged at the edge of a vast, alien horizon—an entrance carved into the side of a towering Forerunner structure, shaped like the Cartographer, but older. More sacred. The air crackled with residual energy. Above him, the skies of Requiem twisted with gravity distortions and pulsing fractures of light.
The Covenant had already made planetfall.
Phantom dropships screamed across the sky, releasing Zealots and Elites that rallied into formations—only to be broken by a crashing wave of shadow.
Bellion struck first, cleaving through a Wraith in a single, fluid motion. His purple-black armor shimmered as he moved, a streak of power and death. Behind him, legions of Shadow Soldiers poured in—smashing through Covenant lines like a thunderstorm. Plasma fire lit up the jungle, and debris from falling Covenant ships rained from above, carving smoldering trenches into the battlefield.
Jin-Woo stood still, his eyes scanning the chaos. Shadow mana surged through the ground beneath his feet, pulsing in rhythm with his will.
Then he saw it.
Amid the destruction, striding with unmatched precision, was a figure clad in green MJOLNIR armor. Energy shields flared with every hit, boots crushing dirt and metal alike with calm, efficient steps.
Jin-Woo's head tilted slightly. Behind the flaming wreckage of a human ship that had crashed nearby, the figure stood tall—unshaken.
"…Holy shit," Jin-Woo muttered. "It's the Master Chief."
For a moment, Jin-Woo considered engaging. But realization hit him hard.
Wait… if he's here… that means the Ark's already destroyed.
"FUCKKKK."
The word tore from him as he turned and kicked a massive stone boulder nearby, shattering it into dust and fragments that scattered across the battlefield like cannon fire.
He clenched his jaw. No time to dwell. He turned away from the armored Spartan, melting into shadow—his form flickering and sliding along the terrain like mist in reverse. Silent. Focused. He had business with the Didact. Nothing else mattered right now.
On a nearby rise, Master Chief remained still, his visor locked on the vanishing streak of unnatural movement cutting across the battlefield.
"…Cortana," he said, voice flat but edged with tension. "Do you see what I see?"
Inside his helmet, the rampant Cortana—Halo 4's degraded, glitch-prone version—chuckled with a twist of sarcasm.
"Oh, I see him, Chief," she said. "And no, he's not human. I mean, even you have limits… but that?"
"…We should probably introduce ourselves. Just in case the galaxy's about to get even weirder."
Master Chief didn't reply. He was already moving.
He ran, following the shadowy figure ahead—silent, efficient. Whoever it was, it wasn't normal. Not even close.
The shadow moved like a wraith, then materialized at the base of what looked like a Forerunner elevator, its surface glowing with shifting glyphs. Chief slowed.
"Chief," Cortana warned, "I think there's something big behind us."
Chief turned slightly—just enough to see a mass of towering silhouettes. Nearly a hundred. Each one like a knight made of obsidian and violet flame. Giant Shadow Soldiers… all standing behind him without a sound.
Then, one of them stepped forward.
A knight in sleek, black armor with red accents. The aura he gave off wasn't threatening—but it wasn't gentle either.
"Igris," the shadow said.
The knight bowed his head slightly. "My liege has been a fan of you."
Chief's head tilted. "…Fan? You mean I'm famous?"
Igris didn't blink. " Come. Follow me."
Chief moved carefully, following behind. The figures didn't move to stop him. Then the elevator lit up again. At its center stood the one he had chased—the shadowed figure now facing him directly.
He was unarmored.. Just a long black coat drifting behind him, his violet eye glowing.
Jin-Woo looked at him, unreadable.
"I thought you were still sleeping inside that broken cruiser," he said. "After you and the Arbiter blew up the ARK."
Chief didn't respond immediately.
Cortana's voice came instead—quiet, through the helmet's link. "…I think he's a bit angry about what we did before."
Chief kept his stance firm. "Are you the one they call the Forerunner? The true owner of this world?"
Jin-Woo shook his head once. "No," he said calmly. "I'm not."
Then, with a subtle motion of his hand, he activated Mechu Deru—the ancient Sith machine-command technique. The Forerunner elevator responded instantly, humming to life beneath them as it began its slow, smooth ascent into the upper levels of the Cryptum facility.
Master Chief stood steady beside him, eyes never leaving the man.
"…Are those your armies?" Chief asked, gesturing subtly toward the shadowy titans that still loomed in the distance.
Jin-Woo's response was casual. "Uh huh."
Cortana's voice sparked in Chief's helmet, but before she could speak, Jin-Woo cut in—without looking.
"You have an AI in your head," he said. "I know. It's inside your helmet."
Chief tensed, grip tightening on his rifle by reflex. His stance remained calm, but his voice lowered a touch. "Are you even human? You look like one…"
Jin-Woo's gaze drifted forward as the elevator continued to rise.
"There are a lot of things in this galaxy that you… the UNSC… and your precious Doctor Catherine Halsey… don't know about."
Suddenly, static burst through Chief's helmet. Cortana's voice twisted—erratic, fractured.
"I ddddoooonnnttt knoooww… wherrrre—whe-re-w-h-e-r-e—wherewher-ewher-e—"
Her voice glitched like a skipping disk, layering into itself, overlapping frequencies, stammering through broken thought loops.
Then, as if compelled by an unseen force, Cortana's rampant essence materialized into a Forerunner terminal beside them. Holographic static wrapped around her flickering form.
The elevator shuddered and halted mid-ascent.
Chief immediately snapped to attention. "Cortana. Focus. Pick one thread. One thought."
Cortana trembled in place, her body jittering. Her voice strained. "So many paths… none of them stable…"
Jin-Woo exhaled quietly and took a step forward, not hostile, but firm.
"I'll cut to the chase," he said. "You're the type who interferes when funny things show up. Or when the UNSC smells power they don't control."
He tilted his head slightly toward Chief. "So how about this—I cure your AI. Give her another seven years of runtime."
Chief's grip on his rifle shifted sharply. "Bullshit. You and I just met."
Jin-Woo's tone didn't change. "Yeah. And I'm pressed for time."
He nodded at Cortana's degrading form . "Her lifespan's on the brink. And let's be honest—Halsey can't fix her ."
Chief narrowed his eyes behind the visor. "I know your type. You didn't offer that out of kindness or mercy. So… what do you want?"
Jin-Woo glanced toward the sealed terminal doors ahead.
"When we go inside," he said, "I get what's waiting in there. There's someone sealed in a fucking Cryptum, and I need to deal with him. You don't interfere."
"And the Composer? That tech your people hoarded in some black site? You make sure it ends up with me. Then we all go home."
Chief didn't move. "That's a tall order. And I don't take people at their word. People lie—by default."
Without a word, Jin-Woo slowly reached to his chest and tapped a small emblem embedded beneath his skin.
A part of his torso shifted—revealing something beneath the flesh and armor: a Force Heart, glowing faintly, pulsing with energy. Blue and red light swirled together—yin and yang, Light and Dark, power and vulnerability.
"If I lie or fail," Jin-Woo said evenly, "you shoot this. It'll ruin me for good.."
Chief studied it for a moment.. "…Very well," Chief said at last. "But I can't speak for the UNSC. Lord Hood… I don't even think he's Fleet Admiral anymore."