Jack stared at Tuktirey—his daughter—now hanging like smoked meat at the heart of the mecha. Her small body was lifeless, yet still served as the core of the unstoppable killing machine surging forward.
He had just killed his own child.
And even though his arrow had pierced her heart, the machine did not stop. The chainsaw kept roaring, the flames kept spewing, and blood continued to flood the soil of Pandora. Jack could do nothing but stand frozen, overwhelmed by guilt and a crushing sense of helplessness that tore through his soul.
> Jack Sully (in his heart):
"I killed her... but I didn't stop it..."
Amidst the destruction and choking smoke, the Na'vi tribe leader stood tall, eyes burning with the fire of resistance as he looked at the broken man before him.
> Na'vi Tribe Leader:
"Jack! You are our leader! You must survive first! I'll lead the others to stop them!"
Before Jack could respond, several other Na'vi rushed over, lifting his limp body by force. With what strength they had left, they dragged their commander away from the slaughter. Jack did not resist. His eyes were vacant. His tears had dried.
Behind them, the remaining warriors roared and charged the mecha with arrows and spears, laying down their lives for even the slimmest hope of victory.
---
Elsewhere on Pandora, a colossal ground base towered above the jungle: Emperor's Glory.
It was the nerve center of the entire military campaign of the Imperium Caelestis. More than just a command post—it was a fortress of cutting-edge technology, the hub of interplanetary communication, and the central node of the surveillance network sprawling across the Pandora continent. From here, the full might of the Imperium was deployed with mechanical precision and chilling ruthlessness.
In the command chamber, one of the high-ranking officers responsible for the direct assault on the Na'vi tribes knelt before the sacred communication altar. One knee to the ground, chest swelling with pride, he delivered his report.
> Officer of the Celestial Imperium:
"Your Majesty, the battle in this sector has been won. What are your next orders?"
Standing before him was an unmatched figure: Emperor Kenthelion.
He stared at the slowly rotating holographic projection above his wrist—displaying real-time data of the battlefield, enemy movements, and the biosphere of Pandora in meticulous detail.
> Kenthelion (flat, barely audible):
"No... It's not over."
His eyes narrowed. The look in them was cold, sharp, and filled with unrelenting vigilance. He saw beyond the maps and statistics—he understood patterns, the instincts of the enemy, and the hidden strengths still lurking in the shadows.
> Kenthelion:
"Order the air force to begin a full-scale bombing of all zones with potential enemy nests."
"It's time to build the cage."
> Kenthelion (continued):
"Command the Artillery Division to bombard every area with suspicious geological formations. Caves, hidden valleys, mountain crevices—leave nothing untouched."
"I don't want a single one of them to have a place left to breathe."
> Officer of the Celestial Imperium:
"Orders received, Your Majesty."
Moments later, thunderous booms echoed across Emperor's Glory.
The Adeptus Mechanicus—the tech-priests of the Imperium—sprang into action. They summoned the logistics armada, organizing the deployment of colossal machines to lay down strategic railway lines.
Iron tracks would soon wrap around every place the enemy had once set foot.
Clone units were mobilized—positioned as permanent sentinels, silent and merciless. What was once sacred forest to the Na'vi was now being forged into a steel cage, bristling with cameras, drones, and automated weapons.
The battle may have been won.
But the conquest had only just begun.
Kenthelion also issued a directive to deploy the Life-Eater Variant 212— a bio-weapon modified by the Tech-Priests Mechanicus and the top scientists of the Celestial Imperium. This version was engineered to deliver exponentially more ecological devastation than any of its predecessors.
Life-Eater Variant 212 was a deadly aerosol compound, spreading in the form of a thick, choking fog capable of killing off entire ecosystems within minutes and poisoning the local atmosphere. Its devastation reached beyond the annihilation of flora and fauna—it stripped away every natural refuge the Na'vi once relied on to survive.
> Kenthelion:
"Begin deployment."
As the weapon was dropped from low-orbit transport ships, Pandora's once-vibrant green forests began to blacken. Towering trees withered and collapsed within moments, while native creatures either fled in terror or died where they stood. Simultaneously, bomber formations launched thermal bombs deep into enemy-held territories, ensuring nothing was left behind but ash and ruin.
But the will of the planet did not sit idly by.
With every fallen tree, a mysterious energy from within the soil sparked new life. It was as though the world itself fought back, resisting the obliteration wrought by the Celestial Imperium.
The conflict dragged on—longer, bloodier, and more bitter than expected. But Kenthelion had no intention of wasting precious time on a single world. His ambitions stretched far beyond; he sought conquest on a multiversal scale. So he handed over control of the ongoing operation to one of the Primarchs—Angron, the butcher machine.
Meanwhile, the overwhelming power of Kenthelion's Aetherion Energy continued to press down upon the living consciousness of the planet. That power was so vast, so incomprehensibly destructive, that even the spirit of Pandora hesitated to confront it directly, fearing what might be unleashed should the Emperor choose to exert his full wrath.
---
Elsewhere, Jack Sully stood before his Ikran, packing only what was necessary. His face showed no emotion—only the cold, focused resolve of a man carrying wounds that would never heal.
> Jack Sully:
"I'm leaving the forest tribe. Heading for the sea people. We need help."
He turned to the Na'vi warriors gathered around him. This wasn't retreat—it was strategy. Jack knew that staying without reinforcements was suicide.
> Jack Sully:
"The forests and the Ikran will be our edge in this guerrilla war. They know every inch of this land better than anyone."
He looked toward Nathan, a broad-shouldered Na'vi standing silently beside him.
> Jack Sully:
"Nathan, you'll lead them. The Hallelujah Mountains will be our fortress. The heart of our resistance. The moment they try to take it, we bleed them dry."
His eyes flicked briefly toward the sky before settling back on the crowd before him.
> Jack Sully (softly):
"The death of my wife and child… that pain alone was enough. I just need help… and maybe a little peace."
From among the crowd, a man climbed onto a stone outcrop and looked at him—it was Max Patel.
> Max Patel (gently):
"Jack… I'm sorry for your loss."
Jack gave a small nod, saying nothing. He climbed onto his Ikran, preparing to fly.
> Jack Sully:
"I know. I will do this."
Then, he shut away the fear, the grief, and the emptiness… fixing his gaze on the horizon, where new possibilities still waited.
---
A few days later…
Steel tracks cut through the dense forest of Pandora, carrying a heavily armored Dominion train from the StarCraft universe at high speed. Its frame was massive, solid, bristling with automated gun turrets. Ion turbine smoke billowed upward, tainting the skies above.
Inside, dozens of fully armed clone troopers from Star Wars sat with chilling military precision. Their white armor gleamed under the red glow of status panels lining the metal walls of the train car.
But not far away, hidden among towering trees and the damp, misty jungle of Pandora, twelve Na'vi warriors mounted on pa'li—Pandora's horse-like beasts—waited in silence. Each mount had been outfitted with heavy combat armor tailored to tribal design.
> Na'vi Leader (in their native tongue, fast and commanding):
"Listen closely! We strike hard, then vanish like shadows. Don't give them time to think!"
With a fierce war cry, the Na'vi charged from the trees. Their armored steeds thundered across the ground with raw power. They raced toward the train, bioluminescent arrows and energized spears drawn and ready.
Inside the train, the clones quickly became aware of the incoming threat.
> Clone Trooper #1 (lifting his helmet slightly):
"Hah! Would you look at that? These blue aliens think they can take on a Dominion armored train? They serious?"
> Clone Officer (coldly):
"Shut it. Don't underestimate them... They might be primitive, but they're fast."
> (Then, into his command radio, voice sharp and firm)
"Prepare to fire... Engage!"
Laser fire erupted all at once. Small explosions rocked the rail's edge. Spears were hurled, and glowing arrows slammed into steel plating—some detonating on impact with deafening booms.
Inside the train's control room, the Dominion Captain quickly activated the emergency comms line.
> Captain:
"This is Train Zeta-9! We're under attack by non-human hostiles! Requesting rapid-response units—immediately!"
---
A few kilometers away...
Deep within a jungle outpost, Major Rex "Steelbite" Korgan—a battle-hardened veteran of the Catachan Jungle Fighters—heard the alarm blaring.
Unfazed, he spat on the steel floor and clenched his metallic teeth—rumored to have been forged from the fangs of a jungle predator he'd once killed in brutal hand-to-hand combat.
> Steelbite (shouting):
"Brothers! Direct orders! Move out! Kill every one of those low-tier xeno bastards! Bring rifles, chainswords, and every round of ammo you can carry!"
Twelve burly men in green vests and crimson headwraps—true sons of Catachan—roared in response. They boarded armored assault vehicles, armed to the teeth with bolt rifles, blood-streaked chainswords, and plasma grenades.
> Steelbite (grinning viciously):
"Hunting season's open… Let's teach these blue freaks what jungle warfare really means!"
---
Lore Entry: Planet Catachan
Catachan is no place for the weak. Located in the Segmentum Ultima, this planet is infamous across the Imperium as the Green Hell—a nickname even respected by battle-hardened Space Marines who've seen wars across galaxies.
The planet's entire surface is covered in thick, deadly jungle. Not a single tree, plant, or creature is harmless. Every living thing seems purpose-built to reject—and destroy—any form of foreign life, especially humans.
Even the mighty Space Marines, known to charge into Tyranid swarms and face down Chaos warbands, advise against landing on Catachan without absolute necessity. That's why the planet has no PDF (Planetary Defense Force)—its flora and fauna are more than enough to keep intruders at bay. In fact, certain species from Catachan have been intentionally deployed on other worlds just to prevent enemy colonization.
However, the most valuable resource on this planet isn't rare minerals or ancient technology—it's the people born and raised on it.
The natives of Catachan grew up in the harshest conditions imaginable. They learned to aim and shoot before they could speak fluently. They were raised to hunt or be hunted, to sleep with one eye open, and to survive in a world where a single insect bite could mean death.
They were tall, strong, and far more rugged than the average soldiers of the Astra Militarum. Their spirits had been forged through constant pain and peril, making them warriors more attuned to the jungle than to civilization itself.
And now... they had arrived on Pandora.