(Author's Note: I want to issue one final warning before you continue reading this chapter. If you're a devoted fan of the Na'vi, you may want to reconsider. This chapter contains scenes and narration that could be perceived as harsh or unfriendly toward the Na'vi. Please don't blame me later if the contents seem brutal or upsetting to you. Due to the extensive timeline, I've altered the appearance of Colonel Quaritch.)
"Judgment for Pandora"
Warp fissures cracked open one by one in the skies above the planet Pandora. Purple and blue light surged across the starry void as the dimensional rifts tore apart space, vomiting forth a war fleet that shook the very fabric of the universe.
More than 5,000 warships—ranging from sleek frigates to hulking dreadnoughts—emerged from the swirling maelstrom. Their formation was immaculate, oppressive, and radiated a psychic pressure that could break lesser minds. At the center of it all loomed the Supremacy-class Dreadnought—a colossal vessel over 100 kilometers long, slicing through the void with the arrogance of a god.
Inside, Emperor Kenthelion sat upon his throne of adamantium and gold, exuding authority and cold resolve. Beside his flagship, the Warhound's Oath—a massive warship carrying the brutal warriors of the World Eaters Legion—cruised silently, its presence like a blade at the ready.
Aboard the bridge of a Mega-class Star Dreadnought, one of the officers studied the tactical display, then bowed respectfully.
> "Your Majesty," he said with solemn reverence, "We've detected a spacecraft not far from our current position."
> "The ship dates back to the 22nd to 25th century—The Era of Early Expansion."
> "What are your orders?"
Kenthelion exhaled slowly. His voice was calm, yet every syllable carried weight and veiled menace.
> "Intercept the vessel. Order them to surrender. Take their star maps—we'll need them for the preliminary conquest of this sector."
The officer gave a sharp nod and departed to carry out the command. Kenthelion rose from his throne, his gaze shifting outward to the blue-green world now growing clearer in the distance.
Pandora.
That planet stirred something deep within him… memories from a life before his transmigration. Emotions surged—fragments of a time when he had been an ordinary human.
> "Avatar… Planet Pandora," he murmured.
Long-suppressed irritation surged back to the surface. Kenthelion remembered exactly who inhabited that planet—the Na'vi, tall, yellow-eyed creatures living in harmony with nature. And... Jake Sully.
A human who betrayed his own species to live among blue-skinned, bow-wielding forest apes.
> "What kind of idiotic logic is that…" Kenthelion muttered. "Throwing away your human identity just to help the natives?"
He recalled how dangerous Pandora's jungles were and was glad he had brought along two battalions of Forest Combat Specialists—elites trained specifically for guerrilla warfare in hostile environments.
> "The Na'vi, huh?" he scoffed. "Let's see how your so-called harmony holds up against a true galactic civilization."
The details from the movie returned to him. Jake had fully become one of them—he even had children with a Na'vi woman. But that… that was his weakness.
As a former human, Jake's actions in the second film disgusted Kenthelion. With Earth on the brink of collapse and humanity's forces launching their final colonization effort, Jake had turned his back on his own people.
> "Betraying your own race… utterly repulsive."
Kenthelion clenched his fist. If he ever caught Jake Sully, death would be a mercy. No—Jake would be handed over to the Inquisition… or the Night Lords. Let them teach him the true meaning of loyalty and sin on a galactic scale.
> "As for this planet's so-called will…"
His eyes glanced down at his golden armor—crafted from the unyielding fusion of forgotten technologies and the enduring legacy of a timeless galactic civilization.
> "...I'll be the one to deliver humanity's verdict to Pandora."
---
In the cold emptiness of space, a lone vessel pierced through the void, its hull glowing faintly against the black.
It was the Venture Star, flagship of the RDA Minerals Company—a monument to mankind's ambition and greed.
Its propulsion system: a hybrid nuclear-antimatter fusion drive. An aging model, perhaps, but still powerful enough to cross the stars. The ship stretched 1.6 kilometers in length, housing a 264-meter-long reactor core. A staggering 99.5% of its volume was dedicated to nuclear reaction systems, leaving only 0.5% for annihilation systems.
Yet it was that mere 0.5% that provided over 95% of the ship's interstellar thrust.
Its fuel? A mixture of antihydrogen and hydrogen—when the two particles meet, a massive annihilation reaction occurs. Magnetic superconductors focus the reaction, unleashing a plasma burst brighter than a million welding arcs, leaving a gas trail stretching over 30 kilometers behind the ship and propelling it to 70% the speed of light.
Impressive? Yes. But not enough.
Humanity had created powerful weapons, fast ships, and grand ambitions. And yet—they still lost. Whether due to hesitant commanders, flawed strategies, or simply because the movie script demanded it.
> "Pathetic. Defeated by half-naked blue monkeys living in trees," Kenthelion muttered, gazing out from the observation window of his Supermacy-class warship.
"And they don't even have a true homeworld of their own."
Just then, the Supermacy emerged fully from warp. The dark purple shimmer of a spatial rupture faded, revealing the colossal warship, stretching tens of kilometers long. It was surrounded by over 5,000 other warships, forming a formation that towered like galactic gods of war.
On the other side, panic broke out aboard the Venture Star.
> "Oh my god… WHAT IS THAT?!"
City-sized gun barrels began to shift and aim toward them. Even Earth's government had never built anything this massive. Everyone onboard knew—there would be no negotiations. No escape.
Inside the Venture Star's bridge, someone nearly choked on their instant coffee.
> "SHUT DOWN THE ENGINES! NOBODY PANIC!"
> "Captain… enemy ship count is over 5,000… all heavy-class... There's one in the center... its size is insane…"
> "Dear God... that's not a security fleet... that's a planetary execution force."
Staring at the sudden emergence of the titanic fleet, the crew of the Venture Star—or more formally logged in Earth's databases as the Entrepreneurial Starship—were frozen in place.
More than 5,000 warships had them surrounded, many of them monstrously large. At the center stood a single ship so massive it dwarfed everything else, its formation resembling a divine armada descending from the heavens.
Even Earth's most advanced fleets couldn't compare. And as the towering gun barrels locked onto them, one truth became crystal clear:
They weren't facing a peacekeeping force.
In short, the Entrepreneurship Star was nothing more than a modified cargo ship. It had weapon systems, sure—but barely. Pathetically so. Like bringing a butter knife to a plasma tank battle.
Suddenly, the comms crackled to life.
> "Vessel ahead! Cut your engines! Surrender to the Imperium Caelestis!"
A deep, commanding voice echoed throughout the bridge of the Venture Star.
Before anyone could even react, pristine white Star Destroyers began emerging from warp—one after another—surrounding them like a heavenly host descending upon the night sky.
> "Do not call for help. Your communications have been severed. Do not resist. Or the outcome... will be ugly."
> "Captain! What do we do?"
One of the operators looked up from their console, despair etched across their face.
> "What does it look like I'm thinking?" the captain muttered, defeated.
"Surrender."
Moments later, a white flag was raised. The Venture Star shut down its engines, disabled its weapon systems, and officially declared surrender.
> "Inform all stormtroopers. Prepare to board."
Thousands of stormtroopers, clad in gleaming white armor and armed with polished blasters, assembled in tight square formations. All eyes were locked on the Venture Star, now little more than a drifting carcass awaiting judgment.
> "We're with the RDA Minerals Company! Who the hell are you people?! Why—"
> "KAKAKAKAKAKAKA..."
A cold, joyless laugh echoed through the hangar bay. In an instant, every stormtrooper turned their weapon on the man who had spoken.
> "Let me make this perfectly clear. You have one choice. Surrender. Or be annihilated."
> "Oookay..."
Every human weapon onboard was confiscated by the stormtroopers. And that was when... from the training room, a familiar figure stepped out: a humanoid with blue skin.
> "Colonel Miles Quaritch."
Kenthelion watched him calmly. The Avatar stood still, a mix of confusion and curiosity on his face.
> "What the hell's going on here? What is this?"
Quaritch asked warily, his hand gripping the edge of a nearby seat.
Kenthelion, clad in vibrant yellow armor, walked forward with deliberate confidence. He handed Quaritch a sheet of paper without saying a word.
"So, this means I'm fired?" Quaritch asked, half-joking, though uncertainty flickered in his eyes.
Kenthelion didn't mince words. He explained everything clearly, bluntly. As Quaritch stared down at the image in his hands, a resigned smile crept across his face. Through the spiritual energy flowing from Kenthelion, he began to grasp the full weight of the situation.
His presence on Pandora was no longer about military objectives or personal vengeance. Earth was dying. Environmental collapse had ravaged the land, natural resources had been exploited to extinction, and the atmosphere was barely breathable. Humanity was on the brink. Their last hope was to find a new home. Pandora—dangerous, volatile, and alien—was the only viable option. Colonization was no longer a matter of ambition; it had become a necessity.
And now, an enigmatic force calling itself the Imperium Caelestis had extended a hand—offering sanctuary to all of humanity. Wasn't this a godsend? Two crises, solved in one stroke. And if the price was loyalty… was that really too high for the survival of civilization?
"I swear loyalty to you, Emperor," Quaritch declared, dropping to one knee before Kenthelion.
"Good," Kenthelion replied coolly. "As long as you obey, your soul—and your memories—will not be trapped inside that decaying body."
He hinted that once Pandora was conquered, Quaritch would be granted a new body—stronger, eternal.
"I await your command."
Kenthelion turned his gaze to the star map beside him and asked, "How far to Pandora?"
"Just one day's journey, Your Majesty."
The crew aboard the Entrepreneurship Star had now fully realized how dire their situation was. Reluctantly, they abandoned their former loyalties and chose to follow Kenthelion. They knew that resisting this kind of military force would only lead to annihilation.
"So, when we arrive, we're just gonna dive into those filthy alien nests and start chopping heads?" Angron asked beside him, puzzled.
"Calm yourself, Angron. There's no point in rushing headlong into chaos," Kenthelion replied, his smile darkening. "We'll make those human traitors pay a price they'll never forget."
He was ready to use any means necessary to crush those who dared betray their kind.