The remaining Ikran Makto riders soared through the sky, witnessing their comrades fall one by one—pierced by bullets or blown to pieces by the relentless barrage from the enemy forces. Realizing the dire situation, the clan leader shouted a command: thousands of Ikran Makto riders were to dive down and launch a full-scale assault on the ground troops.
Below, the Na'vi warriors—already under heavy fire—looked up to the sky and let out a unified war cry,
"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat!"
Cheers erupted as they saw their leader leap down from above, accompanied by his elite warriors. But the moment of courage didn't last. Deep down, they all knew that while such a bold maneuver might work against common foes, this time they were facing something entirely different—an enemy far more dangerous.
Before them stood elite troops from multiple universes: Stormtroopers who had fought across countless star systems, Space Marines from Warhammer 40K who had survived the infernos of Chaos-ridden battlefields, and hardened Terran Marines from StarCraft—disciplined soldiers forged through endless wars against the Zerg.
"BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!"
Explosions echoed across the battlefield. The ground assault never ceased—clone troopers, Space Marines, and Terran soldiers advanced relentlessly, their weapons unleashing deadly precision and overwhelming firepower.
A member of Jack Sully's tribe tried to take cover behind a massive tree, shouting desperately,
"We need support! Jack! We—"
Before he could finish, a bomb detonated nearby. His blue body was torn apart, scattered into chunks of flesh and blood across the already crimson-stained earth.
From the enemy ranks, one of the World Eaters—ruthless warriors from the Warhammer universe—let out a guttural growl from behind his helmet as he unleashed another brutal burst of fire.
"You deserved that, alien scum!"
The savage roar cut deep, chilling the hearts of all who heard it.
"NOOOOOO!"
From above, Jack Sully screamed in agony and rage as he witnessed the brutal death of his brother. His breath grew ragged, eyes narrowing into a piercing glare fixed on the blood-red armor of the advancing Space Marines.
"I'll make you pay for this!"
With burning passion and eyes filled with hatred, Jack aimed his Ikran downward and dove like a meteor, charging straight into the heart of the enemy forces.
But just as he was about to strike from the sky, a hand suddenly grabbed his arm.
"Jack! Look!" shouted one of his comrades, eyes wide as he pointed into the distance.
Jack immediately turned his gaze in the indicated direction—and his heart sank.
Over a dozen interstellar interceptors—Alpha-3 V-wing "Holy Light" starfighters—were rapidly approaching their position. Behind them followed a squadron of Rebel Alliance X-wings and a few signature TIE Fighters from the Galactic Empire. The skies of Pandora thundered with the roar of engines and the sharp wails of sonic booms tearing through the air.
Jack's instincts screamed. A deep sense of dread crept over him—but it was already too late.
---
The Alpha-3 "Holy Light" V-wing, a light interceptor manufactured by Quat Systems Engineering Company, was once the backbone of the Galactic Republic's air force and briefly served the early Imperial fleet. Though capable of accelerating up to 4800G and reaching atmospheric speeds of 1450 km/h, the V-wing was known for its limited maneuverability and weaker firepower compared to later starfighter generations like the TIE/IN Interceptor or the A-wing.
Yet its strength lay in numbers and sheer speed. Outfitted with deflector shields, concussion missiles, and a navigation system managed by internal mechanic droids, the V-wing remained lethal—especially when flown en masse by battle-hardened clone pilots.
Its signature dual-folding wings granted aerodynamic advantages in atmospheric flight over Pandora. Blaster cannons mounted on the primary wing supports were primed to shred airborne targets mid-flight.
---
Suddenly, a transmission from command echoed across the Starfighter comms:
> "All Starfighter units on Pandora, you are authorized to shoot down the creatures! Repeat, you are cleared to eliminate all airborne lifeforms!"
A V-wing squad captain immediately acknowledged,
> "Copy that, command."
He then relayed the order to his unit,
> "You heard the command. Target all flying creatures in sight. Burn them down!"
> "Fire! Fire! Fire!"
As the order was given, blaster cannons and concussion missiles launched in unison toward the Na'vi aerial forces. Explosions erupted across the sky, one after another. The once-unified formation of Ikran riders shattered in an instant.
Jack shouted in panic as he steered his Ikran hard to the side,
> "Break formation! All units, get out of the firing line!"
The Na'vi air force scattered in every direction, desperate to evade the relentless barrage of lasers and missiles raining down from above. They fought back with sheer courage and survival instinct, trying to counter overwhelming technology with raw determination.
The skies over Pandora morphed into a chaotic three-dimensional battlefield—a clash between the high-tech starships of the galaxy and the fierce, primitive air warriors of the Na'vi clans.
Following Jack's command, the entire Na'vi aerial unit broke formation, darting in all directions. They attempted to retaliate using their traditional combat style—quick maneuvers and sudden ambushes from higher altitudes. But those tactics, once so effective, seemed woefully outdated against interstellar firepower.
From inside his starfighter cockpit, the enemy captain chuckled coldly as he watched the Na'vi scatter.
Starfighter Captain
"Tactics like this? Too soft… This isn't even close to the air battles I had with the Zerg. This is just a warm-up."
Then, with a sharp, commanding tone, he addressed the entire fleet over the comms:
Starfighter Captain
"All units, scatter and adapt to the situation. Prioritize self-defense and eliminate all targets!"
Receiving the directive, squadron leaders immediately ordered their wingmen to break formation and begin launching homing missiles at airborne targets.
The natural magnetic fields of the Hallelujah Mountains did cause some interference in missile tracking systems. But such minor disruptions were nothing to the Star Wars-grade starfighter tech. And for veteran pilots hailing from the world of StarCraft, electromagnetic interference was just another variable in the battlefield—one they had dealt with countless times before.
BOOM! BOOM!
Two massive explosions rocked the sky. Several Ikran Makto were torn apart mid-flight, their wings engulfed in flames, their bodies crashing into the jungles of Pandora below with horrifying force.
Jack Sully
"Damn it…!"
Jack glanced over his shoulder and watched as his comrades fell one by one. The relentless pursuit of the Starfighter jets showed no signs of stopping—like a swarm of bloodthirsty flies, they hovered and hunted without end.
Just when Jack felt cornered and overwhelmed, the will of the planet began to stir.
From behind the dark, swirling clouds came a deafening roar, echoing across the entire sky.
WUUAAAAAAGGGHHHHHHHHH!!
Thousands of wild Ikran burst through the clouds in chaotic formation, forming a storm of furious winged beasts. From the ground, herds of hammerhead thunder beasts and other ferocious creatures native to Pandora charged the clone defense lines with unrelenting savagery.
Jack Sully "Eywa is with us!!"
Jack knew—this was the planet responding to the suffering of its children. The planet itself—or the sacred entity they called Eywa—had joined the battle.
But if nature had once been enough to defeat humanity… this time, things were different.
Elsewhere, the officer commanding the Celestial Imperium's aerial forces merely raised an eyebrow at the massive onslaught of Pandora's wildlife. Yet his expression remained composed—cold, almost dismissive.
Celestial Imperium Officer
"The Na'vi send beasts into battle... Merely a nuisance. The enemies we've faced in other worlds are far more savage than this."
Then, calmly, he gave the order:
Celestial Imperium Officer
"All units, full alert. Visual scan confirms large numbers of airborne creatures and primitive drone swarms. Prioritize mass extermination."
Troops:
"Confirmed!"
Three colossal drop ships pierced through Pandora's atmosphere, unleashing shockwaves that shook both sky and earth. Behind them, thousands of Predator drones deployed simultaneously across the battlefield.
These drones, once captured on the Wandering Earth, had been rebuilt and repurposed by the cold, calculating hands of the Mechanicus. But they hadn't worked alone. Scientists from across the multiverse—StarCraft, Halo, Gundam, Mass Effect, and Stellaris—had all contributed, turning the project into more than just a military operation. It was a showcase of technological prowess.
While the scientists boasted about their theories and innovations, the Mechanicus priests from Mars took offense.
They didn't need theories. They had faith in the Omnissiah.
And they would not allow these "soulless machine heretics"—scientists without the sacred bond of steel—to surpass them in the race to build instruments of death.
---
"What is that!!"
A panicked scream broke from among the Na'vi as they looked up at the sky. From beyond the thick storm clouds, a massive black silhouette emerged.
Thousands of unmanned Predator drones plunged downward like a rain of metal. Within seconds, they intercepted and began slaughtering the Ikran Makto mid-flight.
The heavy-caliber cannons mounted beneath the drones roared to life in unison. Energy projectiles and fragmentation rounds fired with pinpoint precision. The sky lit up with streams of death, and the real war had begun.
---
Na'vi Warriors:
"Help! Help us! Please!!"
These drones knew no fear. No empathy.
They were built and programmed with a single directive: eliminate airborne targets like the Ikran Makto.
If cornered or critically damaged, they would self-detonate—taking down anything nearby in a fiery blast.
This was not just a military campaign.
This was a brutal multiversal contest: the Mechanicus versus the scientists of countless other worlds.
"Whoever kills the most… wins."
---
The drones kept coming, wave after wave. The sky turned crimson—not from sunset, but from blood.
Ikran blood. Na'vi blood.
It rained in a torrent of flesh, wings, and shattered bodies crashing down onto the soil of Pandora.
The howls of defiance gave way to cries of despair.
The fire and courage that once filled the hearts of the Na'vi slowly faded, replaced by a cold, creeping terror.
Only now did they understand...
What they once called a "war" against the RDA—with bows, spears, and guerrilla tactics—had been nothing more than child's play.
True war... meant every weapon unleashed, every part of life turned into a battlefield, and no room for mercy.
---
Now, the Na'vi could only pray to Eywa.
But their prayers... were met with silence.
Eywa did not answer.
Because in that moment—
Angron arrived.
Descending from orbit alongside Khârn the Betrayer, they came with the bloodthirsty legions of the World Eaters.
Pandora trembled beneath their feet.
With a guttural roar that echoed across the battlefield, Angron raised his axe—drenched in flame and gore.
Primarch Angron shouted,
"Let humanity stand behind us! All World Eaters, prepare for battle!!"
And with that war cry from the depths of hell, the hunt began.
The War God's Armor.
That was the name given to the suit worn by Angron.
It wasn't just armor—it was a symbol of his evolution. Modeled after the gladiator gear he once wore, the suit had been reforged with technology from across dimensions, blessed by Kalbo the Grand Sage, and embedded with secret systems crafted by the finest scientists of the Imperium Caelestis.
But the greatest change wasn't the armor.
It was Angron himself.
Once, he had been nothing more than a feral child lost in endless rage. But under the guidance of Kenthelion—a mysterious figure who treated him like a son—Angron had grown into something more than a killing machine.
Now, he was more than a Primarch.
He was the protector of humanity.
---
The moment Angron's command echoed through the valley, the World Eaters emerged from their positions. They stood tall and fierce, forming a solid frontline ahead of the thousands of human combat clones behind them.
Primarch Angron roared,
"FOR THE EMPEROR!!!!"
His voice thundered across the plains of Pandora.
And then Angron did something that shocked everyone.
In one swift motion, he drew two long-handled chain axes from his back and raised them high into the sky, letting out a furious battle cry.
Seeing their leader preparing to charge headfirst into battle, every Space Marine under his command raised their weapons in unison.
Chain axes revved to life. Lightning claws sparked. Thunder hammers glowed with power.
A few Terminator-armored Marines stepped forward—towering, immovable like walking fortresses radiating pure destruction.
---
Then, the melee erupted.
Blood, steel, and flesh were torn through the air.
Massive creatures with hammer-shaped skulls—Hammerhead Titanotheres—charged furiously into the front lines of the Space Marines. But to the World Eaters, this was just another blood-soaked hunt.
Angron led from the very front. Every swing of his axes cleaved through three to five Titanotheres at once—their bodies ripped apart, bones crushed, blood soaking the earth.
He was a red hurricane—unstoppable, unrelenting.
The World Eaters followed close behind, chain axes roaring, charging forward without an ounce of fear. They were like iron devils—beings forged for nothing but destruction.
---
In the distance, the Na'vi tribes watching the battle were thrown into chaos and panic.
One of them, eyes wide with horror as he saw Angron standing amidst a field of fallen Titanotheres, shouted in desperation:
Na'vi Warrior:
"That... that must be their leader! Like our clan chief! KILL HIM—KILL THE LEADER!!"
The cry spread like wildfire.
Driven by fury and despair, the Na'vi rushed Angron, armed only with spears, arrows, and their bare bodies.
---
But they didn't know…
They weren't fighting a mere chieftain.
They were facing Primarch Angron, the War God of the Imperium Caelestis—
…and he had long forgotten how to die.