Shining Tiga looked around. Instantly, he saw the swarm of living bio-ships writhing endlessly in every direction, and in the distance, a continent-sized mothership, the hive of the Tyranids. No explanation was needed; he already understood what must be done. There was neither hesitation nor fear.
With a swift motion, he transformed into a streak of golden light and charged straight at the insect swarms.
From the outset, the battle was suffocating and full of despair. Ultraman Tiga's combat skills were formidable—his punches and kicks powerful enough to split mountains and dam rivers. Yet, against the immense kilometer-long insect bio-ships, they were powerless. Even if he could pierce thick armor or tear apart monstrous limbs, it made no difference. Wounds that would be fatal to normal monsters were meaningless to these void beasts, controlled by the hive mind.
Only skills like Radiant Burst or Radiant Destruction could completely shatter these behemoth bio-ships, reducing them to burning debris floating in the void.
Tiga fought with his all, transforming into the nimblest golden flashes as he wove through the Tyranids. Cascades of dazzling, explosive light swept the battlefield like whips, slicing through living fighters and predator ships.
Each time he paused his charge, the Zeperion Beam in his hand grew brighter, like a flaming spear of judgment, piercing through the escort ships encircling the mothership. But the number of Tyranid ships was overwhelming—no matter how many he destroyed, for every one fallen, ten more arrived. Clear out one part of the void, and more instantly swarmed in.
The hive minions felt no fear. They submitted absolutely to the will of their queen and attacked Tiga in endless waves: streams of acid, barrages of bone spikes, torrents of bio-plasma—innumerable attacks from all directions. Tiga's shimmering shield rippled constantly, deflecting the concentrated assaults.
Yet in the face of such hopeless odds, Tiga pressed forward like a golden arrow loosed against the flow, forcing a path through steel and flesh alike. In his wake, the debris of shattered Tyranid ships paved a brief golden road, which was as quickly swept away by yet more swarms.
Breaking past blockades, Tiga finally reached the shadow of the massive 700-kilometer-long insect hive-mothership. It was no longer just a warship, but a living, nightmarish continent. Compared to its mountainous bulk obscuring the sky, Tiga floated before it as small as a man before a living mountain.
Light gathered in his arms, flowing from his whole body—through the colored timer on his chest and limbs surged an energy never felt before. At last, it solidified as a beam, thick as flowing gold and ten times the width of anything before.
"Radiant Ultimate Zeperion Beam!"
This was a blow powerful enough to annihilate even the evil god Gatanothor. A blinding stream of light, like the very first ray after the world's creation, crashed into the mothership's thick carapace!
At the strike point, the chitinous shell instantly turned incandescent, and tens of square kilometers of living matter vaporized in a flash, exposing sturdy sub-layers and the writhing thick biotubes beneath. A massive wound, large enough to surround a city, was carved open.
Yet the ship's full length was 700 kilometers—while serious, the wound was not fatal and had not reached the true core. As Tiga's attack ceased, granulation tissue rapidly grew around the injury, healing it at a visible pace.
The mothership also responded, ordering scores of bioships to counterattack. Numerous biovessels threw themselves at Tiga, blocking his path. At that moment, one of the enormous horns atop the Tyranid mothership began to shimmer, pulsing with converging energy. When it reached its peak, a dazzling flash burst forth—suddenly, a kilometer-thick bolt of bioplasmic lightning exploded forth, illuminating the void and slamming into Tiga before he could evade.
Tiga's shield blocked the mothership's frightful assault, but the light surrounding his body visibly dimmed. Still, he readied himself for a new attack, intent on completely destroying the Tyranid ship. But at that instant, dozens of gigantic, hundreds-of-meters-thick biological tentacles shot from the mothership—coiled in suckers and barbs, shrouded in viscous psionic energy fields. Once entangled, escape was impossible.
The tentacles lashed out, binding Tiga tightly, draggi-n him toward the gaping maw of the ship—a cavernous mouth lined with cruel teeth, gaping wide as if to swallow him whole. Enveloped in writhing, black tentacles, the golden light grew weaker and weaker, fading like a candle guttering in the wind.
…
On the Macragge's Honour
On the bridge, Guilliman solemnly watched the golden silhouette on the tactical screen—nearly swallowed by countless tentacles, its light all but gone. He frowned.
"Not even the giant summoned by the Nameless can triumph?"
"There is a limit to what any individual can do, my lord," whispered Sicarius.
"In the end, victory will rely on the might of our Imperial warships and soldiers."
For a fleeting moment, disappointment flashed in Guilliman's eyes, but it was soon replaced with steely resolve.
"You are right. The Nameless ones have done so much for us already. We cannot ask for more. The salvation of human civilization is not the responsibility of an anonymous individual—but of all humankind. Now, we must win this victory with our own strength."
Even as he spoke, a strange transformation swept the fleet. A being formed completely of light appeared—first in the deepest recesses of Guilliman's mind, then suddenly, without warning, in the hearts of every person present: on the bridge, in every ship across the fleet. The figure was indistinct and faceless but unmistakably warm and familiar, stirring hope and courage in the heart of each who beheld it.
A clear, ringing voice echoed within all minds—it was the voice of the Giant of Light.
"I can feel your hope and resilience, shining from your hearts. Please, lend me your light."
"What?" Guilliman barely understood the meaning of "lend your light"; he neither agreed nor refused. And then, from his body, golden rays blazed forth, beyond his control.
Sicarius watched in shock as the same phenomenon occurred beside him—to generals, officers, tech-priests, even to the most ordinary crew. Beams of light emerged from people's bodies and sped away into the void. Neither supernatural nor warp phenomenon—only the most sincere human feelings glimmered in the faint beams, like sparks of fireflies: yearning for home, longing for victory, and the inexhaustible hope buried deep inside.
As long as hope remained, the Giant of Light—symbolizing hope—would never fall.
This chorus reached not only members of the fleet but people across the whole Baal System.
…
Down on Baal, at the Angel Fortress's final defense line, Chapter Master Dante wrenched his power sword from a slain Tyranid. The moment he heard the voice, he froze. From his bloodstained armor, he saw a thread of light drift upwards toward the crimson sky. Behind him, the same light shone from all the fighting Blood Angels, their auxiliaries, and even the wounded cowering in hiding.
"What is this?" Dante muttered in confusion, but none could answer him.
In the sanctuary of Angel Fortress, an old water seller clung to his cognitively impaired son, staring up at the trembling ceiling in terror. When Ultraman Tiga's voice touched his heart, he, too, showed a startled, frantic expression. Amazingly, he saw it was not just himself and his son, but every emaciated refugee around them, whose forms emitted lines of light. Hope soared skyward from among them, joining the giant that had brought it forth.
…
Seth, leader of the Flesh Tearers, smashed his chainsword-axe into a flying insect's chest and roared. As his forces withdrew under fire aboard transports, swarms of Tyranid beasts surged into the holds, bringing relentless battle—only by fighting could any survive. Gasping for breath, he watched a streak of light issue from his chest, and as he looked around, he realized that every person nearby shared the same tiny beacon. In his mind resonated the voice:
"As long as hope remains, the light will never fade."
…
Jaylen Little readied his last prayer. Gino should have taken his turn first, but Ituk forced him to take his medicine:
"There's nothing I can do but try to help you live a little longer. You might die—or you might not. But either way, I don't want you to die before me."
When Little finished his preparations and was about to make the transmission, the presence appeared with a voice brimming with warmth and hope. He witnessed rays of light coming not only from himself and Gino, but also from servants with fearful faces, warriors with crimson swords outside, and every surviving refugee. Every light soared up, vanishing into the abyss.
…
And it wasn't just the Baal. In distant systems, human worlds ravaged by Chaos, threatened by xenos, grappling with darkness and despair—everywhere, even the most forgotten and oppressed. A worker in a hive's depths, a farmer on an isolated world, a drifter aboard some lost ship, a doomed prisoner—so long as there was hope for tomorrow, even a glimmer—they saw that beacon in their minds. The giant called upon them, asking them to lend their light.
…
Even the warp was thrown into upheaval. In the Crystal Maze, the ever-shifting mind of Tzeentch paused. The eternal roar of Khorne faltered. Nurgle's contented smile froze. Slaanesh's intoxicating whispers fell silent. They all watched reality, filled with suspicion and confusion. In the converging radiance there was no fear or worship, only pure hope and the expectation of miracles.
This beautiful emotion stirred hatred and the desire for utter destruction among the Chaos Gods.
Upon his Golden Throne, the Emperor, too, became aware of the events on the battlefield above Baal.
"Can such a thing truly be done?"
…
Meanwhile, Datch was scouring the shop for an item to summon the Fallen Imperial Fleet. Upon realizing Tiga's final attack could not defeat the insectoid mothership, he decisively switched to Plan B, searching for a summoning item.
But then, the being of light manifested in his heart, asking to borrow his light.
"Can I borrow your light?"
"What kind of off-the-wall tactic is this? If you can't win, just start a crowdfunding ask with your audience!" Datch muttered, stroking his chin as he stopped searching through props.
Somewhere in his memory, he recalled internet posts mentioning Ultraman Tiga pulling unpredictable stunts.
"Is this guy pretending he can't win just to trick everyone?"
Logically speaking, Shining Tiga was powerful—the equal of any Tyranid Hive fleet, at least enough to stall them. He'd used his ultimate move and still lost? Something was off, definitely off.
"And he keeps asking to borrow light without even checking if anyone agrees…? Well, if someone agrees, that's called a loan. If they don't, just force them to make the loan!"
In Datch's heart, the torrent of light was already taking shape. Across the Baal system, and even throughout the galaxy, countless tiny points of light soared upward, traversing the physical distances and the walls of the warp. The void was streaked with endless golden rays.
At last, all the energy converged upon Shining Tiga, who was still tightly bound by the hive's tentacles, being pulled toward the gaping maw.
BOOM!
The faint light illuminating Tiga suddenly erupted with a supernova's radiance, outshining every star in the sky. The colossal tentacles wrapped around him—so strong as to shatter mountains—vanished in a split second, vaporized like snow under a blazing sun.
Freed, Ultraman Tiga now stood tall in the void. He no longer stood a mere 120 meters high. Now, wreathed in infinite brilliance, he was like the giant who shaped the world itself. His presence and overwhelming aura shook the entire battlefield; even the subtle ripples of the warp itself seemed awestruck and frozen by the purity of his light.
The light that flowed around him was no longer ordinary energy, but instead the embodiment of hope and miracles from countless human hearts.
As Ka'Bandha arrived on Baal-1, the daemons of Khorne who followed immediately scattered in terror, fleeing Tiga's radiance. This was the light of hope and miracles—humanity's most beautiful emotion. For those warp creatures who thrived on war and carnage, it was the deadliest poison.
Tiga did not roar. He raised his left hand gently and waved toward the tightly clustered insectoid fleet before him. Instantly, a curtain of dazzling golden light swept for kilometers across the enemy ranks. Wherever the light touched—even the tiniest spore mantis or the kilometer-long Hive Cruiser—everything was instantly reduced to the most basic particles of light and vanished without a trace.
Hundreds of Tyranid Hive ships perished with a single stroke.
Tiga then raised his right hand, waving it toward the new insectoid wave being sent at him. Again, golden light exploded out, obliterating hundreds more living warships.
Sensing the threat, the hive mind commanded all its forces to concentrate fire and annihilate Ultraman Tiga. Tiga did not move, yet the light enveloping him dissolved all the incoming attacks in an instant. Then, he calmly folded his arms across his chest, taking up his signature fighting pose—this time without any protracted charging, just forming an L with his arms.
"Radiant Ultimate Zeperion Beam!"
No sound could travel through the vacuum, but every person who saw the scene heard Tiga's voice ringing in their hearts. From his hands burst forth a torrent of light—so unimaginably dense and brilliant it defied description.
This was no mere outpouring of energy, but the embodiment of "hope" itself, gathered from the hearts of the entire Baal galaxy and beyond. Under Ultraman Tiga's hand, it became a blade of light sharp enough to cut the world. This was the power of humanity itself.
The beam pierced cleanly through every Tyranid ship the hive sent to block its path, whether shielded by thick armor or protected by psionic barriers—they were all shredded like paper.
Finally, the beam struck the very core of the vast hive mothership, which looked like a moving continent. Upon contact, the massive vessel dissolved at a speed that exceeded physical dispersion; in an instant, it turned into myriads of golden particles of light, annihilated and scattered everywhere.
The living horror that had destroyed uncountable civilizations and thrown the Imperial fleet into despair was, before the hope of all humankind, completely disintegrated, purified, and erased in an instant—leaving not even a wisp of shadow behind.
When all was done, Tiga's three-minute limit ended. Shining Tiga glanced back at the Macragge's Honour. His body dissolved into countless particles of light, fading away into the void.
"Is it…over?"
"Did we…win?"
"That light…that giant…Tyranid mothership…they really did win, didn't they?"
Victory had come so suddenly, it left everyone stunned. On the Macragge's Honour and across the Imperial fleet's entire communications net, only confusion and disbelief remained.
People looked at each other, too shocked to think.
Breaking the silence at last, Guilliman's voice rang out, clear and sonorous as a bell:
"All ships, listen! Open fire at will—cleanse the battlefield. Leave no Tyranid warship alive!"
The captains, struggling to contain their shock and exhilaration, finally snapped out of their daze.
"For the Emperor! For Guilliman!"
"Victory is ours!"
Macro cannons, light spears, torpedoes—every weapon system within the Imperial arsenal unleashed havoc upon the broken Tyranid fleet. This marked the final, most thrilling phase of battle—the beginning of the harvest.
…
It wasn't only the Primarchs and the Imperials who were stunned—Datch, too, reeled in shock at Tiga's astonishing feat.
"Was getting a single beam of light that big a deal?" he wondered. "Just a moment ago, Tiga was about to be destroyed by the Tyranid mothership. And now…completely wiped them all out in a single attack."
"Does the one-time summon card come with a Sparklence as a bonus?"
Datch stared at the magic wand he held, bewilderment written across his face. As soon as Tiga departed, a Sparklence materialized in his palm.
[Item: Sparklence]
Anyone with strong hope and the will to protect can use this to resonate with the light of hope, creating miracles.
[Comment: "Not a scam. This is simply using power to get things done."]
Datch felt he'd won big—he'd accomplished his mission perfectly with a random summon card, and even scored a magic wand as loot. Cheerfully, he tucked the magic stick away.
Leaderless, the Tyranid fleet broke down—reduced to slaughtered sheep. Even as the Hive Mind tried to shift control to other bio-ships as nodes, it was too late to turn the tide. The Imperial fleet surged forward, crushing bio-ships in a wild assault. Realizing defeat, the Hive Mind withdrew its main forces from the field.
The blockade of Baal was broken. Next came the ground war.