"How can you just leave like this? Aren't you the United Nations Space Command defense forces? Save us..."
Everyone turned their heads at once, only to see a Korean survivor from the resistance lying on the ground, crying out helplessly.
She knelt beside a severely wounded man whose body had been burned beyond recognition, clutching him tightly. Covered in blood, disheveled and miserable, she wailed in grief.
"Waaah... Dad... n-no, don't... Abba..."
She was none other than the daughter of the resistance leader, the "General" Jin Ha—Kwan Ha. Behind her stood the remaining resistance survivors, their clothes in tatters, expressions vacant or sorrowful, each bearing injuries.
"Chief, for this Madrigal operation, we were not equipped with the necessary medical facilities. Jin Ha's condition... conventional treatment methods won't have much effect. On the contrary, they'll only prolong his suffering. He won't last much longer."
Spartan-028, equipped with a communications backpack, spoke in a low voice. Though she did not say it outright, her meaning was clear—he couldn't be saved. Rather than let him suffer while waiting to die, it would be kinder to end it swiftly.
With only the few doses of adrenaline, morphine, biofoam, and solid coagulant carried externally on their armor, injuries of this magnitude from an explosion were beyond their capability.
After all, their personal life-support systems were integrated into their Mjolnir armor, custom-built for each individual. The specialized active compounds within were not something ordinary humans could endure.
And even if an ordinary person could withstand it, as Spartans, they could not possibly remove their armor just to prolong the life of a rebel leader in the eyes of the United Nations Space Command.
After a brief silence, the Master Chief looked toward the Night Lords officer, who had put his helmet back on. "Could you have your men take a look? They're human."
"Oh?"
Deactivating the disintegration field on his lightning claws, the Night Lords officer crossed his arms. Through the vox-grille of his helmet came a faint, amused snort. "They're rebels, aren't they?"
"Before we landed, I observed you," he continued, turning his head. Beneath the helmet, crimson compound lenses fixed upon the bound Sangheili prisoners.
"Compared to the xenos, they seemed to hate you more. Even with alien forces slaughtering their comrades outside, the moment they saw you, their instinct was to aim their guns at you—and fire."
"A grudge?"
The Master Chief nodded, his voice devoid of emotion. "Mission necessity."
"Ah, I see." Interpreting it through the values of the Holy Selene Empire as he understood them, the Night Lords officer gave his own assessment.
"Still... attacking government troops and rebelling against local authority makes them insurgents. What more is there to say? The fact that we didn't cut them all down is already mercy."
"As soldiers, our duty is to protect humanity at all costs. Right now, humanity's enemy is the Covenant. And he is human."
Staring at the Master Chief's face hidden behind the large amber visor, the Night Lords officer spoke softly, with layered meaning. "I'm beginning to like you more and more."
"Apothecary, go take a look. Save whoever can be saved. Perhaps one day they will stand beneath the light of the God-Empress."
"Understood."
The senior Apothecary from the Astartes Twelfth Legion, the World Eaters—his shoulder plate marked with a bright red spiral cross—had been staunching the bleeding of the captured Sangheili. He jogged toward the resistance survivors in need of treatment, each step rumbling like an engine-driven bulldozer.
A doctor?
No one knew what others thought, but the survivors of this resistance outpost were terrified. The chainaxe hanging half-exposed behind his waist, the severed head still dripping blood at his belt—th-this... were you a butcher or a physician?
"Kwan... Kwan..."
Jin Ha weakly opened his mangled mouth. Black blood mixed with fragments of organs spilled out uncontrollably before his breathing gradually ceased.
"Abba! It's okay, it'll be okay... please save him!"
The World Eater Apothecary merely shook his head regretfully.
"Grade IV severe burns. Heavy metal contamination. Half the body carbonized. Massive hemorrhaging. Extensive organ loss... He has stopped breathing. Bury him."
Jin Ha was utterly unrecognizable. His clothes and hair had ignited in the secondary explosion of the pickup truck. His entire body was severely burned, his limbs broken and carbonized. He was completely different from the man he had been three minutes earlier.
In truth, a single injection of Honkai energy cellular restoration serum could have saved him—as long as he wasn't fully dead...
Unfortunately, the humans of this universe were not yet subjects of Selene. Without passing the enemy-identification protocol for Honkai energy established by Selene, forcibly using Honkai-based products would likely turn someone into a mindless Honkai thrall—or a grotesque Honkai fusion beast—with a single shot.
Medicine was different from weapon applications that removed infectivity while converting energy. "Repair" essentially simulated the process of becoming a Honkai thrall. The only reason it was safe was because Selene, as the Herrscher of Finality, eliminated all side effects and preserved only the body's self-repair.
Moreover, any unconverted pure Honkai energy blocks stored in Imperial Navy ship vaults might serve as universal high-efficiency energy sources in the hands of the Imperial military. But without Selene's protection and authorization, if other worlds or universes outside her Honkai order grew greedy and tried to use them...
They would be on their own.
A "thrall"-grade biohazard outbreak would be the least of their worries.
"..."
Without waiting for any response from Jin Ha, the World Eater stepped past Kwan Ha and moved toward the Black woman, Janka, and the other surviving resistance members, "gently" calming the agitated group.
"Quiet the hell down! You want to die or live?!"
When they finally fell silent, he crouched and began examining them one by one. First was the middle-aged Black man lying on the ground, hissing through clenched teeth.
"Let's see. Minor lacerations across the body. First-degree burns. Shrapnel penetration wound to the abdomen..."
As he spoke, a device labeled "Life V—Type 3B" deployed from his heavy gauntlet, forming, together with the medi-pack mounted on his back, the Astartes' individual battlefield medical system.
With practiced efficiency, he administered local anesthesia, incised the skin, and slender mechanical tendrils extended from his armored gauntlet. They deftly extracted shrapnel fragments and necrotic tissue from the abdominal cavity. Soon, after injecting micronutrients, he sutured the wound with dissolvable fibers in an orderly manner.
"Next."
Under the World Eater's expert hands, the remaining seven resistance members received proper treatment in less than a minute. Three of them were pulled back from the brink of death.
"Regroup. We're leaving."
Nodding, after speaking with the surviving Black woman, Janka, and reaching an agreement, he told them to wait here. Very soon, personnel from the United Nations Space Command rescue forces would arrive and escort them to a safe location.
After handing Janka a locator device, the Master Chief exchanged a glance with the members of Silver Team, then walked to the center of the Astartes formation.
"Made up your mind?"
"Mm. The Doctor's orders."
This time, due to the Astartes' arrival, the Master Chief had not accidentally come into contact with any Forerunner relics that might have triggered buried memories and awakened his emotional capacity and independent thinking.
At this moment, he was still Dr. Halsey's most perfect creation. His emotional suppression module had not been removed. For humanity, he could obey any command from his superiors.
And that was precisely Dr. Halsey's proudest achievement.
According to her theory, if humanity's combat effectiveness was to be pushed to its absolute limit, then human emotional capacity had to be suppressed. Only by ensuring that a soldier remained perfectly rational under all circumstances could outstanding combat performance be maintained.
The emotional suppression module was a product of that philosophy.
And just then, it was her again—those same people again.
"How can you possibly make a decision like this?! This is a betrayal of my father!"
Her again.
Following the commotion, the Astartes all turned to watch, observing this bout of internal strife among the humans.
If only they had some snacks in hand.
"Kwan, I'm sorry you lost your father. But you saw it too—I lost so many comrades. Aliens are real. Now we have to cooperate. If we cling to our original ideas of independence, disasters like this won't be the first... and they won't be the last."
Clutching the distress signal transmitter the Master Chief had given her, Janka spoke with stern resolve.
"Kwan, this isn't the time for a tantrum. Everyone, I respect the General deeply. But we—and Madrigal—need to survive before we can talk about independence. The aliens won't care about any of that."
"What's that supposed to mean? You've been bought off. You're afraid to die, aren't you?!"
"Kwan, no one wants to die. Being afraid of death..."
Before Janka could finish, Kwan Ha cut her off harshly.
"I'm not afraid!"
"I'm not like you! What my father wanted was Madrigal's independence. That's what he wanted!"
Letting out a weary sigh, Janka said weakly, "Kwan, you're exhausted. You need rest. We never said we were betraying our cause. We're just providing information to other outer colonies."
"Providing what?" Kwan Ha's face was stiff. Her father's death had already driven her emotions out of control. Like a rabid dog, she lashed out at anyone offering concern.
"Okay, okay." Spreading her hands, Janka patiently explained, "We'll explain what we saw. We'll tell them about the aliens—their existence and their cruelty. That will help humanity unite against them..."
"Enough! How dare you cooperate with the butchers of the UNSC? My mother died at their hands. My father devoted his entire life to the liberation of our planet. And what about you?!"
Pointing at the Astartes standing not far away, Kwan Ha spoke recklessly.
"How do you know the aliens just happened to appear on Madrigal and just happened to attack our outpost? It was them—those despicable UNSC dogs who led the aliens here to achieve their goals, to enslave our wor—"
What the hell?
The Astartes exchanged baffled glances. They had been watching the drama unfold, and now somehow they were dragged into it.
Repaying kindness with hostility, was she?
"Kwan Ha! Have you lost your mind?!"
Seeing the movement of the Astartes warrior behind Kwan Ha, Janka's face changed drastically. She hurried away, shouting in terror.
BANG!
Splurt!
The world fell silent.