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Chapter 619: The End Times Seemingly Arrived Irrevocably at This Moment
🕑 Added 2025-06-09 00:00:02 +0000 UTCTychus’s muscles suddenly bulged, every tendon pulled taut like a drawn bowstring.
Beads of sweat the size of peas rolled down his veined temples, carving paths across his weathered, rugged face.
This hardened man, unafraid of Zerg or enemy fire, now stood frozen like an insect trapped in amber. For the divine pressure emanating from Athena had taken on tangible form, making even his iron neck creak under the strain.
“Huuhh…”
His Adam’s apple bobbed with effort, and the air pushed past his vibrating vocal cords only barely managed to form fragmented syllables.
His usually sarcastic gray-blue eyes were now bloodshot, pupils contracted. The man who seemed unshaken by anything could hardly maintain a regular breathing rhythm.
The specialized prison-grade power armor he wore emitted tortured groans of metal under strain.
Its joint bearings sparked beneath divine pressure, and its multilayered composite armor began to warp like tin foil in an invisible giant's grip. Hydraulic oil sprayed from ruptured lines, pooling into a thick, black puddle at his feet.
“I—” Each word Tychus forced out seemed clawed from his lungs. “Mengsk implanted... a neural bomb in my armor.”
Jim Raynor’s face turned dark as pitch.
Though the commander of the Raiders had sensed something off about his old friend, he had never imagined he was an actual spy for their sworn enemy.
Raynor raised his signature large-caliber weapon, barrel locked steadily on his friend’s forehead. “Since when?”
Tychus’s twitching lips twisted into a crooked smile. Blood-flecked saliva dripped from his yellowed teeth. “New Folsom.”
Still under Athena’s divine pressure, he tried to mask his trembling with his usual flippancy. “Did you really think... I escaped that place on charm alone?”
Blood surged in his throat, turning his scoff into a wet cough. “Cough, cough! That old bastard... even planned the color of the warden’s mistress’s underwear…”
Raynor’s finger inched toward the trigger.
But before he could fire, Athena’s Spear of Victory flared with golden radiance.
The runes engraved along its shaft began to ripple with life, projecting a three-dimensional matrix into the air.
When the light struck Tychus’s breastplate, the armor turned glass-like and transparent. Hidden beside the cold-fusion core, a scarlet device was laid bare.
In its liquid energy core, the Mengsk family crest pulsed faintly, surrounded by encrypted locks. Clearly, conventional methods would never disarm it.
“Shit! That thing’s linked to my neural signature!”
Tychus roared in sudden panic. “If it detects an unauthorized disarm protocol—”
“Silence.”
Athena’s voice wasn’t loud, but it vibrated straight through everyone’s bones.
A subtle tilt of her spear’s tip, and a golden arc lifted Tychus’s jaw.
With a graceful motion of her left hand, tens of thousands of golden filaments began to weave in the air, each line imbued with arcane psionic laws far beyond mortal comprehension.
Tychus’s armor began to disassemble at the molecular level.
First, the outer composite layers evaporated into golden motes like morning dew under sunlight.
Then, the hydraulic system crystallized into jet-black gems midair.
When the deconstruction reached the neural interface, thousands of thin wires snaked out from his spine, writhing like silver serpents before dissolving into light.
Throughout this “onion-peeling” process, Tychus’s face twisted in nightmarish pain.
Though Athena’s divine power shielded his flesh, years of conditioned reflexes from imprisonment made his whole body convulse.
When the final restraint ring disintegrated, the giant man collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut. His knees struck the ground with a heavy thud.
Trembling fingers brushed across his now-exposed chest, while the last glimmer of the Mengsk family crest flickered in the heap of vaporizing metal remnants—only to be consumed by swirling golden fire.
“Hahahahaha!” Tychus’s laughter started as a hoarse wheeze, then erupted into a deafening roar.
He grabbed a handful of dissolving metallic ash and scattered it into the air, watching it turn into meteor-like golden sparks in the divine flames. “I’m finally free of that iron coffin!”
Athena retracted her spear with the elegance of a swan’s curved neck.
Each golden leaf on her olive crown shimmered with faint light, and her pure white Grecian robe billowed without wind.
As the goddess lowered her gaze to the kneeling mortal, her eyes held no pity nor contempt—only a god’s absolute insight into the pawns of fate.
“Now.” Her voice made the golden motes in the air resonate. “Speak the full truth. How much intelligence did you transmit?”
“None at all.” Freed from divine pressure, Tychus wiped his face and turned toward Jim Raynor with a wry grin.
“Every time that old bastard wanted a report, I’d send him some raunchy jokes about space pirates. Besides, I couldn’t have transmitted anything about this place even if I wanted to. So technically speaking, I never actually became a traitor.”
Divine light swirled in Athena’s eyes. “Within the domain of Truth, lies cannot be uttered. Though this man was a prisoner, he has not betrayed you. As for his fate, that is for you to decide.”
With that, the goddess turned and walked away, leaving the scene in eerie silence.
The Raiders looked at each other. They were used to battlefields of black and white, but had no idea how to judge this chaotic but loyal brute.
Tychus’s words lingered in the air, rough but honest.
He wiped the blood from his mouth, then grinned at Jim Raynor, flashing that familiar, cocky smile.
“What’s the matter, Little Jimmy? Disappointed you didn’t catch a real traitor?”
Raynor’s weapon was still raised, but the coldness in his eyes had faded. He knew Tychus too well. This “bastard” might be full of nonsense, but when it came to life-or-death matters, he never lied—especially not inside a goddess’s truth field.
“You’re a goddamn lunatic,” Raynor finally muttered, lowering his gun. “Knowing what Mengsk is and still making a deal with him?”
Tychus shrugged and rolled his now-liberated shoulders. “Hey, life’s gotta have some fun. And besides—”
He glanced at the smoldering armor husk on the ground. “That old bastard’s probably throwing a tantrum right now over a bomb he can’t detonate.”
After a pause, Tychus scanned the alert Raiders and then looked toward the towering dimensional gate in the distance. A rare seriousness flickered in his eyes.
“Listen, Jimmy. After what just happened, I think it’s pretty clear—”
He nodded toward the direction Athena had left. “These folks have True Gods backing them. And those three-meter-tall war machines? If you ask me, we oughta team up for now. Losing would be harder than winning—and I’ve been itching for a good brawl.”
Several Raiders' eyes lit up at that.
The divine spectacle and the gate’s impossibly advanced technology had left them speechless.
A young soldier murmured, “Fighting alongside a goddess... man, that’s the dream.”
Raynor remained silent for a moment, glancing between Tychus, Leon, and Mike.
Then, with a deep breath, he made his decision.
“Alright. Temporary alliance.” He extended his hand to Leon. “I’ll need access to your comms. I want to contact my flagship.”
Leon didn’t hesitate. He nodded slightly. “Granted.”
Shortly thereafter, on the dark side of Mar Sara’s capital—Mar Sara City—the last remnants of the Terran Dominion were descending into unprecedented panic.
Once a thriving metropolis, the city had become a steel tomb.
Outside the towering fortifications, darkness covered the deserts and wastelands. Worse still, orbital space was completely sealed off.
The Salamanders’ 3rd Company warships loomed above the sky like grim reapers.
They hadn’t fired. They hadn’t even entered the atmosphere. But their mere presence had shattered the defenders’ morale.
“Sir! Our communications are completely jammed!” a trembling comms officer reported. “We can’t even send out an emergency distress signal!”
Inside the command center, the Dominion officer’s face was ashen. He stared at the red blips representing enemy ships on the holo-map, clenching his fists until they cracked.
“What the hell are those monsters waiting for?”
No one answered.
But everyone knew—the Salamanders were waiting for the garrison to collapse on its own.
Deserters flooded the streets, shedding power armor and uniforms, blending into the panicked civilian crowds.
The military police gunshots rang out, but for every body that fell, more vanished into the alleyways.
Fear spread like a plague. Even the most loyal officers began whispering about surrender.
The civilians fared worse.
Merchants hoarded food, slum gangs looted supply depots, and anti-Dominion rebels stoked chaos wherever they could.
Power plants were bombed, water systems sabotaged, and two grounded transports exploded on the tarmac.
The garrison's nerves were fraying to the breaking point.
“Command! There’s a riot in Sector D7! Requesting suppression units!”
“Fuck support! I’m about to get torn apart by these mobs myself!”
“Are those giants ever going to attack or what?! Just give us a quick death!”
The comms channels were filled with broken howls.
Field commanders saw madness brewing in their soldiers' eyes—an animalistic light born of desperation.
In some barracks, whispers spread: “Maybe we should tie up the colonel and offer him as tribute?”
Just as this chaos threatened to boil over—
A green light tore across the black sky.
Everyone froze.
That glow wasn’t like any human weapon. It breathed—like something alive.
Then, a series of continuous explosions lit up low orbit, forming vortex-like clouds in the atmosphere.
“What the hell’s happening?! Is the orbital fleet under attack?”
“No—it’s not our ships!”
SCREEEE—BOOOOM!!
A piercing shriek ripped through Mar Sara’s night sky, like death itself had torn the heavens.
A massive “meteor” engulfed in green fire streaked down and slammed into the central plaza before anyone could react.
Shockwaves blew out in concentric rings. Glass shattered in nearby buildings, the shards glittering like a deadly crystal rain under the firelight.
Patrolling soldiers were thrown off their feet. Helmet HUDs blinked with critical warnings.
As they regrouped around the crater’s edge, they saw the pavement collapsed inward. Steam-hissing acidic slime oozed from the edges.
“Scout team—check it out!”
Five soldiers cautiously approached the pit.
Their helmet lights cut into the darkness. And as they drew near, a sickening clicking grew louder—like countless bones grinding together.
The lead private suddenly froze.
Reflected in his visor was a writhing shadow at the bottom of the crater. He shouted:
“Sir, I think we should—”
A second later—
ROAR—!!
A “bug” the size of a bull burst from the ground, its carapace still steaming. Its eyes glowed red in the dark.
Its scythe-like forelimbs lashed out—
SPLRT!
The lead soldier’s lower body kept running—but his torso, still holding his rifle, slid to the ground.
Blood sprayed like a fountain, painting the others' armor dark red.
“Open fire! Ope—”
But the squad leader never finished his command.
More bugs erupted from below—second, third, fourth. They just kept coming.
Their carapaces reeked of sewage. Acid drooled from their jaws, sizzling as it corroded the ground.
The squad had no time to form up. They were overwhelmed by dozens of Zerg.
The comms last recorded the sound of power armor being torn apart, and bones crushed between jaws with a nauseating crunch.
In the command center, the communications officer’s face turned ghost-white. His fingers trembled as he clutched the mic:
“All units! Unknown lifeforms spotted in the East Sector! I repeat—these aren’t Raiders or giants! They’re—they’re Zerg!”
But the warning came too late.
The night sky had turned into hell’s curtain. Tens of thousands of meteors were falling.
Over residential areas, a meteor smashed directly into a hospital. Zerg emerged and began organized slaughter of staff and patients.
In a military fortress, acid from a single Zerg triggered a chain explosion in the ammo depot, ripping the stronghold apart from within.
Most terrifying were the massive meteorites that landed in the wastelands. The desert dunes swelled—something colossal was about to break free.
The command center’s red warning lights bathed the room in crimson.
The end of Mar Sara City—seemed to have arrived, beyond all salvation.
