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3-The goddess and her apostle
🕑 Added 2024-11-10 03:57:53 +0000 UTC“What have you done?!” a woman of radiant beauty, golden hair radiating heavenly light, demanded as she faced her brother with suppressed fury.
The brother, a god who had unleashed uncontrollable power on the galaxy, stared into the void with disinterest, as if his sister’s words were only a distant murmur.
“It’s my galaxy! You already had yours… and you destroyed it!” she shouted, her voice echoing in the vast ethereal room. “Are you listening to me? You gave power to a mortal, power that makes her practically a demigoddess, capable of generating armies at will. This is madness! You are going to plunge everything I have created into chaos.”
The god merely smiled, his expression filled with arrogance. "Oh, please. Your galaxy was already on the brink of chaos. I've only added a little... fun," he replied indifferently, not even looking at her, as he began to walk towards the exit of the majestic room, a space suspended in some corner of infinity.
The goddess, frustrated by her brother's indifference, let out a heavy sigh. It was useless to try to reason with him. He had always been a negligent god, blind to the consequences of his actions. She watched as he disappeared into the shadows of that room, knowing that she would have to clean up his mess.
So many millennia had passed building that galaxy, shaping the destinies of countless beings, watching civilizations, cultures, and paths being forged. She knew that after the Clone War, dark times were coming, but that was something she herself had decided. Evolution had to continue its natural course. However, everything changed with her brother's intervention. That woman, a warrior with the power to generate an invincible army, was now free to sow chaos in everything she had built.
It was a hard blow, even more so because she knew she could not intervene directly. For more than five thousand years, cosmic laws had forbidden her to interfere in the present of her creation. She could design the future, create the threads of destiny, but the present was beyond her reach.
Frustrated, she thought of her father, the all-powerful creator of existence. She knew that if she went to him, he would only scold her brother for his recklessness and offer her another galaxy to start over, from scratch, as if everything she had built in this one was dispensable.
But she did not want another galaxy. She wanted her galaxy. She liked her galaxy, with its imperfections, with its moments of chaos and peace. She was not going to give it up.
"Covenant..." she murmured, a clear memory resurfacing in her mind.
That army came from one of the most conflict-ridden galaxies she had ever observed. A ruthless faction that had sought to exterminate humanity in its entirety. The war between humans and the Covenant had been fierce, cruel... but the humans, against all odds, won. They overcame every adversity, every defeat, every obstacle.
And then, a spark of clarity illuminated her mind. The solution was clear before her eyes. She knew that, although she could not intervene directly, there was a way to do so indirectly, a way to influence events without breaking the rules.
With a determined smile, she left the room, her ideas clear and her resolve firm. She knew exactly how to lead the beings of her galaxy to salvation, without violating the laws that bound her to destiny.
-x.X.x-
Being a Spartan II changed him completely. Conscripted as a child, war was all he ever knew. His life was marked by suffering, sacrifice, and loneliness. The grueling training, relentless combat, and brutal experiments he and his comrades were subjected to forged him into a relentless soldier, but they also robbed him of everything he could have ever been. He saw many of his brothers fall, either from experiments or on the battlefield. Death was always around him.
The Mjolnir armor, his second skin, was a physical and mental burden. Originally designed to quell the human insurrection, and then to face the relentless Covenant, that armor was a symbol of what he would never cease to be: a soldier made to fight, with no other option.
His life was summed up in an endless cycle of cryogenics, combat, and more cryogenics. He woke up, fought, went back to sleep. For 48 years, he repeated the same cycle without rest, most of his existence frozen or in battle. His body had the appearance of a 20-year-old, but his mind was broken by the weight of nearly half a century of war. He died at 48, never having known his parents, never having had a relationship, never having experienced life outside the battlefield.
Despite being a legendary warrior, there was an emptiness that stayed with him until the end. When the war against the Covenant finally ended, he didn't know what to do. He had been created to fight, and without a war, he felt lost. But the peace was brief, and before he could find any meaning, the Banished rose in a new war. It was in that conflict that he found his end.
However, when death came, a strange relief came over him. Finally, he was freed from that eternal cycle of battle. But before darkness engulfed him, a small part of him regretted what he could never have: a coffee at dawn, an ice cream cone on a hot day, a conversation that didn't revolve around war. He wished he had a life, a friend beyond the battlefield, or maybe, someday, a girlfriend.
But that wasn't the life of a Spartan.
His skin was pale, never touched by the sun naturally. He never got sunburned under the warm rays of the day, nor enjoyed a drunken binge with friends. He never played a video game, nor knew what it was like to relax after an ordinary day. He wanted to see the beach, but not in the way he did: with a gun in his hand, fighting for his life. He never had a vacation, nor a respite from the endless war that defined his existence.
His body, a mass of muscles more than two meters tall, was the result of genetic enhancements that almost destroyed him from within. They made him superhuman, but the price was high. Scars covered his skin, silent witnesses to every battle, every experiment. He didn't like them. He felt strange, as if they were marks that could scare those who looked at him, distancing him even more from normal people.
However, he liked the way people saw him when he wore his armor: as a hero. An indestructible soldier, someone who could face any threat and survive. Rescuing children, saving civilians, protecting anything, made him feel that, at least in those moments, his existence had a purpose beyond combat.
But what he missed most were his friends. He remembered every face, every comrade who fought at his side and who, inevitably, he lost in the war. Jonas, Diego, Carlos, Cristóbal, Ethan, April, Kelly... names that remained engraved in his memory, along with the images of his first fight against the Covenant. Of the two hundred soldiers he had started with, only he survived. That battle marked him, and the losses haunted him for years.
Now, on the brink of death, floating in the void, he felt for the first time something like peace. Dying, after all, was not so bad. But as his consciousness faded, a question crept into his mind: what if he had another chance? If he could go back, he would do everything he could to enjoy it. Anything.
“Yeah, I guess I’d like to have an ordinary house,” he murmured as he closed his eyes, letting the darkness envelop him. Maybe, in another life, he’d have the chance to live, really live.
He felt like he was floating in time, unable to measure how many hours, minutes, or seconds had passed. Maybe days, months, even years. Everything melted into an eternal calm, a void where his mind finally found peace. For the first time, there were no wars, no battles, no screams. Just silence and quiet.
But that serenity began to fade when a light appeared in the distance, barely perceptible at first, but growing with each moment. It came closer and closer, intensifying until it became a dazzling, warm, golden light. It was not just a light, he knew. There was something else, a figure within that glow.
When his eyes finally made it out, he saw that it was a woman. Beautiful, radiant, her presence mesmerized him instantly. He couldn't take his eyes off her, it was impossible. That woman watched him with a tender, serene smile, as if she had known him forever, as if she understood every battle he had fought.
The distance between them quickly disappeared, and when they were close enough, the woman extended her pale, delicate hand towards him. The Spartan felt a sudden shame. It was the first time he had had such intimate contact with a woman, and his mind was filled with doubts and nerves. He didn't know how to react, how to behave.
For a moment he thought about moving away, staying where he was. But before he could decide, the woman took his hand with surprising gentleness. Both firm and gentle, she pulled him towards her, guiding him out of the void he found himself in.
And then, everything changed. The darkness and lethargy disappeared. He felt a tug on his consciousness, an abrupt awakening. He was coming back, coming back to life.
Finally, he woke up.
She was radiant, like a beacon of light in the midst of darkness. Her golden hair fell like a cascade of golden threads, a sight to be admired in the most remote corners of the galaxy. The peace she radiated was so intense that the Spartan could not take his eyes off her. He was completely mesmerized, so enraptured by her presence that he barely noticed he was no longer floating in the void. He was in a room... no, it was much more than that. It was a palace, with gold and white decorations that enveloped him in a sense of calm and majesty.
How had he gotten there? She didn't know, and at that moment she didn't care. She was happy. She felt at peace. Maybe, after all, this was the afterlife, the paradise she never thought she deserved.
"Hello, Spartan," the woman spoke, her voice an angelic melody that echoed in the air. Her smile was so warm it could melt any trace of doubt or fear. "You wonder what you're doing here, if your life ended in the middle of a war," she continued, her tone full of empathy and sweetness.
The Spartan finally woke up a bit from his shock, and paid more attention to her words. Still partly confused, he managed to articulate a question. “Is this the afterlife?” he asked cautiously, the only logical explanation he had left.
The woman let out a small laugh, soft and light as a breeze, and shook her head. “Maybe so, maybe not,” she said as she looked him straight in the eyes, “but you are not here to die.”
Her words took him by surprise. Before he could process it, she continued. “I have chosen you to give you a second chance at life.”
A second chance… The words echoed in his mind like an impossible echo. Was it possible? Reborn, to live again… but where? He wondered if he would be returned to the same war, to continue being just a fighting machine for the UNSC. Would he be the weapon he had known since childhood again? Or was this second chance something completely different, something better, beyond the battlefield?
Confused and hopeful at the same time, only one question kept floating in his mind: What did this second chance really mean?
"I see a lot of doubt on your face," the woman said, her voice soft but firm. "But it's not what you think... Although, perhaps it is somewhat related. My brother, for fun, has released an evil in my galaxy. He has unleashed someone with a dark power, a power that can bring back the Covenant."
The Spartan felt like an invisible fist hit his stomach. The mere mention of the Covenant brought with it an avalanche of memories, too vivid to ignore. Years of fighting, bloody battles that seemed to have no end. Although the war had ended, the hatred and resentment towards that alien alliance had never left him. He remembered Reach, his home, turned to dust and ashes, crystallized under the relentless fire of the Covenant. Seven billion lives taken by their unstoppable thirst for destruction.
The memories burned inside him, but he forced himself to keep his composure. He took a deep breath, trying to contain the anger that still consumed him. Despite everything, he still needed to understand more about the situation. Another galaxy... Is it possible? The idea unsettled him.
"Please, miss, continue," he finally said, although his mind was still struggling to accept the idea of another galaxy and a new resurgence of the Covenant. How was it possible? He felt caught between bewilderment and hatred, but he knew he had to listen to her.
The woman nodded, understanding the storm of emotions she saw in his eyes. “This evil my brother unleashed not only threatens my galaxy, but it could spread. And to stop it, I need someone like you… someone who knows what it’s like to fight the Covenant, someone who understands what’s at stake.”
“The power my brother unleashed can wipe out everything I’ve built, thousands of years thrown away,” the woman said, sighing heavily. “But I can’t intervene directly,” she added, her voice more serious. “My brother was able to act because he doesn’t own my galaxy. He can do whatever he wants, while I can only watch as it all falls apart.”
The Spartan arched an eyebrow before asking, “So why am I here?”
The woman gave a soft smile. “I will send you to that galaxy to fight the Covenant. There are no hidden secrets or traps. You will be able to fight, but this time you will not be tied to your higher-ups. You will be the general of an army.”
The Spartan’s eyes widened. “An army? Is that possible?” He asked in disbelief. To be revived for another war… an army under his command. The idea was shocking, but also tempting. To fight the Covenant and, at the same time, have a freer life, without the chains of UNSC command.
“Although I do not have the same powers as my brother,” the woman continued, “I cannot give you a system to summon an army, but I can offer you the initial resources: ships, troops… although they will be limited. After that, it will be up to you. You will have to build and expand your army on your own.”
The Spartan nodded, processing each word. It would be difficult, he knew that. Having a small army when the Covenant has millions of soldiers and advanced technology… one wrong move and everything could fall apart. When he fought alongside the UNSC, he at least had massive backing, millions of troops and resources. But now, he would be the one who would have to organize and direct everything.
The implications of that responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders. He knew what was at stake, but there was also something different about this opportunity: a new life, a new war, but with the freedom to decide his own destiny.
"Then I can't say no," the Spartan replied with a sigh. "I'm still somewhat confused, but it seems there is no other option."
The goddess smiled, satisfied. "Thank you, Spartan," she said softly. "I won't be able to give you a large army from the start. If I'm discovered, I'll be accused of intervening in the galaxies and my father will take away my privileges."
The Spartan let out a small, wry laugh. "You have a very strange family," he commented.
The goddess laughed softly, nodding. "Yes," he said, "I suppose it is."
"Wait... and what am I going to get for winning this war?" the Spartan asked, a hint of doubt creeping into his voice.
The goddess gave him an enigmatic smile. "That's a surprise, Arnet-096," she replied, a mysterious glint in her eyes. Before the Spartan could say anything else, the goddess snapped her fingers, and everything went black.
End of chapter 3
