"Ding! Congratulations to the Host for completing the mission: Destroying the planet's will without using a Star Destroyer weapon, and spending 300 million war points."
Kenthelion exhaled in relief at the familiar system notification. He opened the system panel to review the battle results.
There was no denying that this had amounted to a massacre on Pandora. In return, however, he'd earned nearly 200 million war points.
Aside from a handful of Na'vi displayed in interplanetary zoos, the rest were either exterminated or farmed as exotic livestock. Their skins were now all the rage—luxury materials for bags, dresses, shoes, scarves, even high-end jackets for fashionable ladies across the galaxy.
Kenthelion read the report with an impassive expression. No comment. Only his cold eyes fixed on photos from a Luxora fashion show: models wearing limited-edition organic gowns made from Na'vi skin, touted as "naturally glowing under starlight."
> "The Caelestis Imperium is getting crazier by the day," Kenthelion thought with thinly veiled contempt. "What's so great about alien leather?!"
He shook his head slowly. He'd long ago grown weary of humanity's obsession with fashion—a universal affliction from modern times to this interstellar era. He'd once visited a galactic trend center and witnessed something absurd: women wearing unpopped bubbles in their mouths as permanent accessories, claiming they were "cute."
Kenthelion frowned in disgust:
> "Cute? They look like snot bubbles someone forgot to wipe away."
Annoyed by an entire city obsessed with this "mouth bubble" trend—akin to 21st-century hairpins—Kenthelion decreed the accessory strictly banned across his domain.
He didn't care about protests, tears, or multi-page influencer campaigns across the galaxy. To him, the fad was simply:
> "The look of someone mid-sneeze who hasn't finished. An affront to civilization's aesthetics."
Beyond the Na'vi, most native Pandora wildlife also fell victim to the purge.
Nearly every endemic creature—scientists once called them "beautiful but chaotic"—perished under waves of airstrikes by Caelestis Imperium starfighters. Launched from high-orbit Star Carriers, they bombarded Pandora's ecosystems ceaselessly for 72 hours until nothing remained.
When the system finished tallying war points, Kenthelion's total soared past 510 million.
He commanded a massive armada now—dozens of Gloriana-class battleships with firepower enough to split continents. Yet in his heart, he still believed that "no fleet could replace an iconic Primarch's ship."
> Kenthelion:
"System, produce a World Eater carrier: a Conqueror-class battleship—'Glory Queen.'"
> System:
"Ding. 300 million war points deducted."
> System Explanation:
The Queen of Glory class is a legendary super-dreadnought first built during the Great Crusade by the Ancient Imperium. At least twenty of these vessels were ever constructed, each bearing unique design, aesthetics, and weapon configurations reflecting its owner's combat style.
One of the most renowned was The Conqueror—the Primarch Angron's flagship.
Before Angron took command, it sailed the stars as The Resolute, a beacon of power and resolve. But once Angron returned to the Imperium, it was renamed The Conqueror and became the flagship of the 12th Legion: the World Eaters.
The ship underwent extreme modifications: brutal armored plating enveloped its hull, an enormous array of heavy artillery, and close-combat systems. Even from afar, its silhouette radiated aggression and destruction.
Its most fearsome feature: the Bear Claws—giant grappling hooks that could launch at enemy vessels, pierce their hulls from a distance, then haul them in for brutal boarding operations.
Now Kenthelion tasked the reawakened Conqueror as flagship of the First Expedition Fleet, under Admiral Speyer—a cold-blooded veteran famed for strategy, loyalty, and a sardonic grin whenever enemies begged for negotiation.
---
Meanwhile, Jack Sully—the "traitor of humanity"—finally arrived at the heart of the Imperium's power: the grand capital Terra Aeterna. His body was battered and bloodied. Chains of adamantium bound his neck and wrists; the fresh whip scars across his back still ached. He did not walk—he was dragged, his feet scraping the metal floor of a light combat vehicle, silently escorted by Inquisitors. No announcements, no mercy—only the clinking of chains and the screech of metal wheels filling the air.
Plaza Caelestis had been packed since dawn of the third rotation. Thousands had gathered in perfect formation, lining the main avenue toward the Gate of Judgment. Caelestis Imperium banners billowed majestically, courtesy of artificial winds from atmosphere towers. In the distance, patriotic hymns echoed from orbital loudspeakers, entwining with the tense atmosphere cloaking the city. Terran Marines stood motionless along the barriers—they were not guarding Sully from the crowd but ensuring the execution unfolded precisely as Imperium protocol demanded. In their doctrine, justice was a spectacle—and today, the planet itself would witness the final act.
---
Live Broadcast – Caelestia Today | NovaScope Intergalactic
Location: Terra Aeterna, Capital of the Caelestis Imperium
Reporter: Thalissa Vorr
> "Welcome to Caelestia Today. I'm Thalissa Vorr, reporting live from Terra Aeterna—the empire's heart, where galaxy-wide history is rewritten today. Behind me stands Jack Sully, now dubbed by Imperium citizens as 'the Blue Traitor.' Once human, a marine, part of the Avatar program on Pandora—now a living symbol of moral downfall, a man who chose aliens over his own species. Today, he will not only stand trial; he will serve as a stark warning: in the Caelestis Imperium, loyalty is everything."
The camera panned over the slowly approaching convoy. Sully looked exhausted but held his gaze straight ahead. Adamantium chains glinted under artificial sunlight. The wounds on his blue skin added to the perfect drama—no narration needed; the public knew: here stood the face of betrayal. Drones circled the procession, capturing every angle—his battered body, each small movement, every final breath of his dignity.
---
Crowd Reaction
Along the corridor toward the Gate of Judgment, the masses spilled out. Hands waved posters reading "For the Imperium, cleanse the sacred soil!" and "Blue traitors must pay!" Roars echoed between monolithic towers. Amid the human sea, small objects flew—rotten fruit peels, engraved trinkets bearing the Imperium emblem—flung as symbolic insults.
A noble tossed an old shoe from a high balcony, voice carrying above the crowd:
> "This is a warning to anyone daring to turn away!"
Cheers followed, as if judgment had already been delivered before the trial began.
Children and youths joined in their own way: projecting short holograms of Sully among the Na'vi on Pandora, now twisted into satirical mockery. They giggled, not fully understanding the context but doing as the environment dictated.
Not everyone partook in the revelry. A young man stood rigid, head bowed, reluctant to cheer. An elderly woman watched with hardened eyes, torn between fear and pity. They neither spoke nor made conspicuous gestures—but their presence implied that even under the Imperium's dominion, a sliver of doubt remained. A silent whisper amid the screams: is this truly justice or merely vengeance cloaked in law?
Of course, official cameras captured none of that nuance. On the main screens, only lines of cheering citizens, echoing anthems, and symbols of Imperium triumph were shown.
---
Archive Footage & Subtle Propaganda
Soon after Sully neared the central podium, the giant screens flared to life. Holographic projections displayed archived footage: Sully running through Pandora's bioluminescent forest, laughing with the Na'vi, even his transference into his permanent avatar body. The montage was edited with poignant music that swelled into dramatic chords—portraying a journey from hopeful allegiance to ultimate betrayal.
Thalissa Vorr continued in a calm, subtly scornful voice:
> "Ironic, isn't it? What was once a noble endeavor—protecting an alien culture, fighting for an untouched environment—has become a trend. The 'blue skin' aesthetic, once sacred to the Na'vi, is now commodified: from luxury handbags to holographic mantles, hair accessories to perfumes scented with 'spirit tree essence.' A sad journey from devotion to commodification. The Imperium calls this proof: those who abandon humanity will ultimately be consumed by humanity itself."
Some nobles laughed softly, recording the moment on personal holographic devices. In other corners, intergalactic influencers streamed limited broadcasts, weaving in sponsors extolling "Imperium vigilance." Their segments balanced official credibility with public fanaticism—neither too harsh, nor too neutral.
Thalissa closed the segment with a rehearsed smile:
> "Today isn't just about Sully. It's a reminder: loyalty is the foundation of the Imperium, and those who forget will be reminded."
---
Approaching the Gate of Judgment
The convoy entered a grand corridor exuding power and intimidation. Granite pillars adorned with skull motifs towered along the walls, reliefs of sacred wars against xenos carved in brutal detail. Neon lights in the Imperium style spotlighted Jack Sully's slumped figure, chained—his elongated shadow on the cold floor marking the last steps of a human traitor.
Terran Marines lined both sides, forming a living barricade to contain the pressing crowd. The masses chanted:
> "To the stage!"
"Execute him now!"
Yet stewards kept the ceremony's pace strict. Every detail had to follow protocol. This was more than execution; it was Imperium political theater.
Sully was led onto the trial stage, each heavy step accompanied by the clink of adamantium chains. The whip scars on his back stood out, dried blood still trickling from his blue flesh. He remained silent—a stance many interpreted as both defiance and admission of guilt.
His gaze was vacant, yet behind that stillness lay memories: Pandora's glowing forests, Neytiri's gentle voice, the freedom he once knew.
---
The Trial
Judge Karaman stood behind a high dais adorned with the Aquila emblem. Behind him hung a black banner decorated with the Imperium skull, flanked by cream-and-gold flags swaying lightly in the ventilation breeze. The air brimmed with the aura of judgment.
Jack Sully was dragged to the center. Chains scraped harshly against the restraining post, metal-on-metal grating in the ears. His military ID patch was now a faint shadow on wounded skin—an ironic emblem of his fate.
Judge Karaman's voice rang out, heavy and merciless:
> "Jack Sully. You stand accused of betraying humanity. You abandoned the human form, united with an alien species, led rebellion against the sacred mission, and defiled your soldier's oath. How do you plead in your defense?"
Sully cast a fleeting glance at the judge, inhaled quietly… then fell silent. Not a single word came. From the galleries erupted cries:
> "Kill him!"
"Purge the traitor!"
The Inquisitor recorded his silence with an unreadable expression, while Marines around tightened their grips on weapons, ready for any disturbance.
Sully's silence, to the Imperium, equaled confession. And that was enough.
---
Execution
The verdict was swift and unquestioned: "Death penalty. Immediate execution."
Jack Sully was dragged toward the execution chamber, body nearly collapsing yet forced upright. Two Adeptus Mechanicus Tech-Priests approached, carrying a strange helmet device bristling with cables, thin tubes, and psionic energy modules. The device was slowly affixed to Sully's head, pressed against fresh wounds and dried blood at his temple.
Its true function was never publicly explained, but everyone understood: this was no mere physical execution. This was the annihilation of his very essence—the final severing between the human he once was and the alien identity he'd embraced.
The helmet was secured onto Sully's head, fusing forcibly with open wounds and cracked skin. No official statement on its mechanics, but all present knew: this was total destruction—erasing the human soul and the alien guise he'd claimed.
The activation button was pressed. A flash of white light enveloped the restraint helmet. Sully gasped his final breath, body convulsing violently. His consciousness shredded by excruciating pain, flooded with final memories: Neytiri's whispered love, the glow of the sacred tree, Pandora's vast skies—each memory surged… then vanished.
Silence. His body slumped, lifeless. No breath remained. No more "Na'vi." Only a corpse.
Triumphant cheers exploded from the stands:
> "The traitor has been purged!"
Imperium warning bells tolled as sacred incense smoke filled the hall, drowning out the scent of metal and stale blood. Marines lowered a small blue flag, folding it ceremoniously—mission accomplished.
In the broadcast room, Thalissa Vorr closed with steely authority:
> "Jack Sully has received justice from the Caelestis Imperium. Let this be a warning to every soul: betrayal will never go unpunished. Humanity… must remain pure."
Jack Sully's body was displayed before the sacred city gate for three days. Citizens hurled filth, stones, and curses at him. Academy children were forced to watch as part of a meta-lesson: the ultimate limit of betrayal—one who chose to become an alien and raise arms against his own people.
Thus, Jack Sully's name was etched into the Imperium's historical records.
As the symbol of destroyed idealism.
As a living warning turned corpse.
As an eternal specter in the rise of the Caelestis Imperium.