Chapter 259: Great Terror! Facing Death Is True Immortality!
At this moment, the three Prophet Priests finally realized the situation had spiraled completely out of control. With just a single holographic projection, Molami had upended their entire, meticulously planned scheme.
Originally, all they needed was the crime of "blaspheming the gods" to successfully suppress the Elite clans and complete the internal power transfer within the Covenant.
They wouldn't have even needed to resort to accusations like "fratricide" or "rebellion."
But now, Molami had used an unknown miniature device to publicly expose the full truth. Whether the content was authentic or not no longer mattered—there was no way the Elites would simply bow their heads and admit guilt!
This so-called public trial broadcast to the entire Covenant was destined to collapse.
In a panic, the Prophet of Truth lost his composure. Rather than immediately denouncing Molami's footage as a forgery, he instead raised his withered arm in alarm and shouted angrily:
"Seize Captain Molami's projection device! Detain him again! The trial is suspended!"
The Prophet Priests feared that both the council hall and the outside situation would descend into chaos. At this point, only a forceful assertion of control could possibly salvage the situation.
"Hold it!"
Just then, as soon as the Prophet of Truth's voice fell, a high-ranking Elite councilor wearing a golden crown stood up and stopped the guards preparing to act.
With a cold smirk, he looked toward the priests on the high platform and said, "Honored Priest, since the Reclaimer is the rightful heir chosen by the gods, then the Reclaimer's will is divine decree."
"If you forcibly interrupt a divine revelation, that's also a violation of the holy scriptures. What's the matter? Are you planning to break sacred law yourself?"
"Or perhaps... you're afraid. Afraid of the truth being exposed. Afraid that what Captain Molami has revealed will put you in a very unfavorable position."
As a seasoned politician, he knew exactly how to turn their own weapons against them.
If the Prophet Priests could weaponize the charge of "blasphemy" to suppress the Elites, then the Elites could just as easily throw it right back at them!
After all, Molami had already presented what appeared to be a divine revelation from the Reclaimer. Whether it was real or not didn't matter anymore.
This holographic footage gave the Elites ample justification to strike back. Even if it led to open conflict, they could claim they were defending the faith.
With such righteous justification—and with the proceedings being broadcast live to the entire Covenant—the Elites weren't about to pass up the perfect opportunity to counterattack.
Sure enough, as soon as the Elite councilor finished speaking, other Elite representatives voiced their support.
The Prophet Priests, who had moments ago seemed supremely confident, were now dumbfounded as they watched the momentum in the council hall shift decisively toward the Elites.
They had never anticipated that Molami still had such a devastating trump card. The entire situation had grown far beyond their control!
Under the Prophet of Truth's desperate urging, the public trial broadcast from the council chamber was abruptly cut off.
Outside, the masses—who had been watching with bated breath—immediately erupted in protest. The sudden end to the broadcast only made it seem like Molami's claims were true.
As the Elites and Prophets argued bitterly, Molami's projection continued to reveal more facts to the other councilors.
Beyond the revelation that the Flood were not creations of the Forerunners but evil entities that had destroyed Forerunner civilization—
Even the Covenant's long-held belief in the "Great Journey," and the promise of transcendence through the Halos, was exposed as a lie. The Halos weren't tools of ascension, but weapons designed to exterminate all life in the galaxy.
Their longed-for "ascension" was nothing but death!
How absurd. How ironic.
In an instant, chaos engulfed the entire council hall.
The scheming power brokers fell silent, each rapidly calculating the costs and benefits in their minds.
If the Great Journey was nothing more than a massive hoax, then the entire Covenant's power structure—the grand pie everyone wanted a slice of—was due for a reshuffle.
Would they continue to follow the Prophets on a pilgrimage that would never arrive? Or would they throw their lot in with the Reclaimer and share in the bounty of Forerunner technology?
For any seasoned political operator, cunning strategies and long-term vision were not enough.
The most crucial skill was knowing how to pick the right side!
Choosing correctly could mean meteoric rise for their entire clan.
But choosing wrong... could mean utter ruin.
From the video Molami had presented, the Reclaimer's Astartes warriors appeared terrifyingly powerful—far stronger than even the best Elite fighters in the Covenant.
And now that the Reclaimer had inherited the Forerunner's indomitable Dreadnought and possessed both legitimacy and overwhelming power, it was hard to argue against following them.
The only problem was—they couldn't be sure whether Molami's footage was genuine.
If it was all fabricated by the Elites in a bid for power, then siding with them would mean going down with them.
And so, apart from the Elites and Prophets who continued their fierce dispute, most of the other delegates remained unusually silent.
These grizzled veterans—hardened by countless political storms—weren't about to make a move without certainty.
At that moment, Molami's voice rang out once more, sonorous and impassioned:
"Honorable councilors, during our recent expedition to the Forerunner relic on the Shield World, the Grunts and Jackals under my command acted with blatant disregard."
"They repeatedly ignored my orders and insisted on sacrificing themselves to the Flood, which led to a catastrophic outbreak on the surface."
"Worse yet, they offended the mighty Reclaimer and were executed—punished—by Reclaimer warriors, receiving the fate they deserved!"
"Let this be clear to you all: The Reclaimer has inherited the full might of the Forerunners. They have the power to punish any force, any individual, that is disloyal to the divine!"
Molami's speech was clearly a warning shot—a veiled threat to every councilor present. The Grunts and Jackals had already been punished.
Those who defy the divine would be torn apart by gravity fields.
But it wasn't too late—if they chose now to align themselves with the Elites and the Reclaimer, there was still a path forward.
Before anyone could respond, Molami turned furiously toward the high platform, glaring at the three Prophet Priests and bellowed:
"The Prophet caste has fed us lies for over a thousand years—deceiving not just we Sangheili, but every clan in the Covenant!"
"These three so-called priests have manipulated all of us for their own gain. That so-called pilgrimage and transcendence? All of it—shameful lies!"
At that moment, the Prophet Priests were completely stunned.
They truly hadn't expected the council's situation to deteriorate this far.
The reason the Covenant had always been under Prophet control was simple: the Prophets controlled the real power—the Forerunner weapons and tech.
All of it required Prophet reverse-engineering to unlock.
But now, if the Reclaimer had truly inherited the full power of the Forerunners, then their civilization's strength already rivaled the entire Covenant.
And with their legitimate claim to inheritance, how could these three priests order Covenant forces to attack the god's chosen heir?
That would be no different from a secretary ordering security to beat up the newly appointed CEO's son.
And so, as more Elite delegates loudly voiced support, some representatives from other clans began to take a chance, choosing to side with the Elites and the Reclaimer.
After all, once this council session ended, it was clear the Elites and Prophets were headed for all-out war. A Covenant civil war was inevitable, and neutrality wouldn't save anyone.
Fighting alongside the Elites gave them a better chance of survival.
More importantly, most of the Honor Guards in this council hall were Elites!
Anyone hoping to oppose the Elites would first have to make it out alive.
Before long, the hall erupted in furious cries demanding the Prophets be overthrown.
"You vile, shameless scum! You've been deceiving our warriors for so long—promising us transcendence through pilgrimage, only for it all to be a lie!"
"If not for us conquering the galaxy for the Prophet caste, would the Covenant even exist in its current form? Ungrateful worms—I'll tear you apart right now!"
"Kill them all! Leave no one alive!"
At that moment, chaos completely consumed the council chamber.
Without a word, an Elite councilor suddenly grabbed the Prophet next to him and smashed him to the ground—then stomped him to death right there in public.
The Brute and Jackal councilors were dumbfounded.
By all rights, they should have stood behind the Prophets without question. After all, they'd been riding the Prophets' coattails to maintain their privileged status within the Covenant.
But now? On one side were the Prophets—on the other, the far more formidable Reclaimers. The Prophets couldn't very well stop them from switching to a better boss.
In that instant, only a handful of Brute and Jackal councilors still sided with the Prophets, joining the escalating brawl.
The rest were paralyzed, exchanging uneasy glances, frozen in place, not knowing what to do.
Riled up by the Elites, even the Honor Guards who were supposed to maintain order joined the fray.
Their blazing plasma spears pierced through countless Prophet councilors with ease. Blood sprayed across the hall as Prophet after Prophet dropped dead.
Witnessing this, the Prophets of Truth and Mercy turned in rage and panic to the Prophet of Regret, their eyes filled with accusation—why hadn't he replaced the Honor Guards earlier?
They had discussed personnel changes with Regret beforehand.
But the Prophet of Regret could only give a helpless, bitter smile. Personnel shifts took time. Who could've predicted that Moramee would actually rally every Elite councilor to launch a full-scale assault?
Before long, Moramee and the other Elites charged the platform, flinging the three Prophets down and pinning them to the ground.
But the very next moment, the Honor Guard Commander—assigned to protect the Prophets with his life—rushed in front of Moramee and shielded the three Prophets behind him.
"How dare you! Captain Moramee, are you attempting a coup?!"
Faced with a fellow Elite blocking his path, Moramee shouted back furiously, "A coup? The real traitors are the Prophets—these three decrepit fools!"
"They've betrayed the will of the gods! I must take them to the Reclaimers to stand trial!"
Moramee's words rang with unwavering conviction.
"And how is that any different from the actions of a treacherous rebel?! As Honor Guard Commander, I will never let you lay a finger on the Hierarchs!"
The commander barked back with equal force.
Elites had always held honor and loyalty as sacred. Since they had sworn to protect the Prophets, they were bound to uphold that duty to the death.
And so, the rest of the Honor Guards followed their commander, forming a tense standoff against Moramee and the Elite councilors.
Clearly, after thousands of years of tradition, the institutional duty of the Honor Guard still held fast. Even against their own kind, they would carry out their responsibilities to the letter.
That kind of ingrained loyalty wasn't something that could be undone by a single uprising.
"Fools!"
At that moment, a senior Elite councilor stepped forward—distinguished by the golden crown atop his head—and scolded the commander:
"These three Prophets have twisted the gods' will for their own selfish gain. They distort the truth, declare the Flood to be divine creations, and now they repeatedly undermine and oppress our Sangheili people."
"If we let this continue, they'll exile the Sangheili from the Covenant—or worse, bring about our extinction!"
He spoke from a position of tribal and racial loyalty, trying to sway the Honor Guards.
After all, these were no ordinary soldiers—they had been handpicked from across the Covenant. Each of them was a one-warrior army, armed with state-of-the-art gear.
Even the combined forces of all the Elite councilors wouldn't stand a chance against them.
So persuading the Honor Guards was critical.
After hearing the councilor's argument, the Honor Guards—including their commander—fell into a pained silence.
They understood the truth. But under the Covenant's sacred laws, even against their own kin, they were sworn to protect the three Hierarchs.
Now torn between divine decree and personal honor, the guards stood frozen, hesitating.
But Moramee didn't intend to give them time to hesitate. Rebellion, after all, was an art—it demanded swift, decisive action with no room for the enemy to react.
So Moramee spoke again, addressing all present:
"Everyone—since our gods, the Forerunners, have named humanity the Reclaimers, then by the highest sacred edict, humans are the gods' heirs. That means we must follow their will!"
"Not the orders of these so-called Prophets!"
"Or do you mean to betray our gods, just to obey the lies of these frauds?!"
The weight of Moramee's words struck like a thunderclap. The Covenant's entire governance was based on religion—divine command was absolute.
The Prophets, in essence, were mere mouthpieces—workers serving the gods. The Covenant followed the Forerunners, not the Prophets.
It was no different from Christians worshiping God and Jesus—not the Pope.
By legal doctrine, the Prophets were only ever agents of the gods. Nothing more.
"That's nonsense!"
Finally snapping out of his shock, the Prophet of Mercy angrily cried out:
"You think some unknown projection device gives you the right to question and overturn the entire Covenant order?! This is nothing more than a tool for your treason!"
"You rebels deserve death! Guards—seize them all!"
He roared at Moramee, then turned and ordered the Honor Guards to execute the councilors on the spot.
The existence of the Reclaimers was something the Prophets could never admit—not if they wanted to live. A fatal flaw in a religion-based regime.
Sure, the Covenant's devotion to the Forerunners had helped them rally civilizations and swell their ranks—but only so long as that god never actually showed up.
If the true "god" returned, the Prophets—who had worked their entire lives to consolidate power—would instantly become obsolete. The kingdom they built would belong to someone else.
Because they were not the gods' children. They were only servants.
"Whether it's nonsense or not," Moramee declared, his voice ringing with authority, "I believe the Hierarchs already saw the Forerunner AI's revelations at the core of the City of Charity."
"If you truly deny the Reclaimers exist, Hierarch—then why not come with us and confront the Forerunner AI directly?"
The City of Charity, after all, was repurposed from a Forerunner warship—and still housed its ancient AI.
The Prophets revered this AI as a divine oracle. Over the years, they had used its revelations to formulate countless excavation plans for Forerunner relics, helping the Covenant rapidly expand.
Moramee only knew about this because Li Ang —armed with insider knowledge of the Halo script—had told him.
When the Prophet of Mercy realized that Moramee even knew about the Oracle, his mind shattered.
Only the highest-ranking Prophets were aware of the Oracle's existence. No Elite should have known.
But here was Moramee—a mere exploration captain—reciting one of the Covenant Empire's deepest secrets. If he hadn't received a divine revelation, how could he possibly know?
"N-no… How could you know about the Oracle?! This… this isn't possible!"
The aged Prophet of Mercy looked as if he had seen a cosmic horror. His face twisted in terror.
Among the three Hierarchs, he had been the only one who truly revered the Forerunners and longed for ascension. And now, learning that gods could die—that even the Forerunners could fall to the lowly Flood—shattered the very foundation of his faith.
Power and schemes meant nothing in the face of true transcendence.
If only death led to "eternal life"—then what had they been striving for all this time?
Staring at the now-deranged Prophet of Mercy, endlessly repeating the same phrase, the other Covenant councilors could only gape in stunned silence.
The Prophet of Mercy… had gone mad.
Which only confirmed Moramee's claim.
The Reclaimers were real.
And their gods—were already dead.
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