Reborn as Humanity’s Emperor Across the Multiverse

Gak... Gak.

The strange, guttural sound was low and raspy, like the labored breathing of a creature.

Logan immediately tensed, his instincts warning him of a non-human presence. Somehow, an unknown entity had infiltrated the Weyland-Yutani tower and was lurking in the shadows, observing him.

He paused mid-motion, halting his plan to leap out of the building. Instead, he turned toward the source of the sound, his senses heightened.

At the same time, his Cataphractii-pattern Terminator armor's pulse scanner pinged. The tactical radar on his helmet's display lit up with a red dot in the upper left corner, marking the presence of a non-friendly target.

Logan didn't need the visual aids to spot the faint silhouette hiding around the corner to his left.

His keen eyes caught the vague shimmer in the air—a sign of active optical camouflage.

Raising his twin-linked bolt gun mounted on his left gauntlet, Logan aimed directly at the figure.

However, instead of immediately opening fire, he used his helmet's built-in vox caster to amplify his voice, growling:

"Whatever sneaky little rat you are, you've got two choices: surrender or die. Pick one."

His voice, amplified and metallic, boomed through the corridor, mingling with the wail of the alarms.

The shimmering figure visibly hesitated. Clearly, it hadn't expected to be detected, let alone confronted so directly.

BZZT—WHOOSH!

Without hesitation, the figure fired a crackling ball of plasma from a shoulder-mounted cannon. The glowing blue projectile streaked through the air toward Logan.

"Ho? Interesting."

Logan raised an eyebrow beneath his helmet but didn't panic. He effortlessly sidestepped, letting the plasma bolt sail harmlessly past him and explode against the wall behind him.

He could have chosen to rely on his energy shield to absorb the attack, but he wasn't inclined to test the plasma's potency unnecessarily. Better to avoid damage altogether.

TAT-TAT-TAT!

In the same fluid motion, Logan returned fire.

The 75-caliber explosive rounds from his bolt gun roared through the corridor, closing the distance to the target in the blink of an eye.

BOOM—BOOM—BOOM!

Each bolt found its mark, detonating on impact. The target's optical camouflage shorted out as the explosions tore into its armor and body, sending sparks and debris flying in all directions.

ROAAAARRRR—!!!

The figure let out a guttural, beast-like howl—a mix of rage and agony. The sound echoed through the corridor, raw and primal, signaling its pain and desperation.

CRACKLE—THUD!

With one final electronic sputter, the creature's camouflage fully failed, and it collapsed heavily to the ground.

Logan remained alert, his bolt gun still trained on the fallen figure. Only when he was certain it was no longer a threat did he lower his weapon and approach cautiously.

Standing over the downed entity, Logan studied it more closely.

The creature's humanoid form was evident—two arms, two legs, and an upright posture—but its appearance was anything but human.

Its leathery, mottled yellow skin was covered in black spots, resembling a reptile or amphibian. Long, dreadlock-like appendages hung from its head, and it wore armor made from an unknown material, including a metallic mask that covered its face.

The shoulder-mounted plasma cannon was still smoking slightly, though it was clear the weapon had been disabled.

Its exposed abdomen bore a massive, gaping wound, where blood—glowing a fluorescent green—poured freely. Its right arm, leg, and much of its torso were a mangled mess of shattered flesh and twisted armor, torn apart by Logan's explosive rounds.

The creature was barely clinging to life. Its chest heaved erratically, each breath weaker than the last, as its fluorescent blood pooled around it on the floor.

Logan knelt beside the alien, showing no trace of pity or hesitation. With one hand, he reached down and tore off the creature's mask, wanting to see the face of his adversary.

As the mask came free, Logan finally got a full view of its face.

"Ugh. You're one ugly bastard," he muttered, unable to suppress his disdain.

The alien's face was grotesque by human standards—a nightmare of twisted features. Its mandibles, reminiscent of crab claws, jutted from its mouth, twitching weakly. Sharp spikes protruded from its brow and cheekbones, adding to its monstrous appearance.

But Logan quickly recognized it for what it was.

This wasn't a genetically modified human or some experimental soldier.

It was a true alien—a Yautja, more commonly known as a Predator.

The Yautja species had been described in detail by the Imperial Intelligence Division, which had gathered extensive information about the Alien universe's xenomorphs, Engineers, and other extraterrestrial races from Samuel Young's briefings.

The Yautja, as Logan recalled, were a complex and fractured species. Their various clans were often at odds with one another, engaging in fierce and sometimes endless rivalries. These internal conflicts made their behavior toward humanity inconsistent and unpredictable.

Some Yautja clans adopted a relatively neutral stance toward humans, choosing to observe rather than interfere or hunt. These clans often held a deep respect for human warriors who displayed exceptional skill or courage, sometimes even fighting alongside them as allies.

For these clans, honor and martial valor were everything. If a human earned their respect, the Yautja would treat them as equals—or even comrades-in-arms.

In stark contrast, other Yautja clans viewed humanity as little more than prey, traveling to Earth and its colonies to engage in their infamous hunting rituals. These hunts were not only a demonstration of the Yautja's dominance but also a cornerstone of their cultural identity.

For Logan and his Space Wolves, understanding these nuanced relationships was a critical part of the Imperial unification campaign.

But at this moment, Logan had no way of knowing which clan this particular Yautja belonged to or whether it harbored any hostility toward humans as a species.

Its initial attack with the plasma cannon could have been a reflexive act of self-defense rather than an outright display of aggression.

Regardless, Logan had already reduced the creature to a near-dead state.

Just as he prepared to activate his communicator to report the encounter, the Yautja drew its final breath and went still.

Its chest stopped rising, and its glowing green blood ceased to flow.

Logan stood, towering over the alien corpse.

He activated the recording function on his helmet's HUD and transmitted a message to the fleet:

"Send a recovery team to my location. I've neutralized an alien target—species identified as Yautja. Retrieve the body for study.

Additionally, notify all units: the presence of Yautja clans on LV-426 Earth has been confirmed. Maintain heightened vigilance."

"Understood, Commander," came the response from the other end.

Logan frowned beneath his helmet, his mind racing. After a brief pause, he added:

"Based on current evidence, the Yautja possess optical camouflage and advanced plasma weaponry. If any unit encounters them, issue a warning and attempt to drive them off.

If they retreat, do not pursue. But if they attack, eliminate them without hesitation."

With that, Logan cut the comms and sighed.

In truth, he had considered issuing a blanket "kill on sight" order for the Yautja.

But he knew such an aggressive stance could draw criticism from other Imperial legions or even the Emperor himself. The Space Wolves already had a reputation for being blunt and barbaric; Logan didn't want to fan those flames unnecessarily.

Still, his distrust of alien species ran deep, a sentiment shared by nearly all members of the Space Wolves. Even the Swords of Sanghelios—one of the Empire's most loyal alien allies—were not immune to their suspicion.

The Wolves could drink and laugh with the Sangheili one moment, only to turn on them without hesitation if they sensed even a hint of betrayal.

For Logan, the Yautja represented a similar threat: an unpredictable wildcard he would rather eliminate than tolerate.

Returning to the task at hand, Logan punched a hole through the wall and widened the opening with ease.

WHOOSH—!!

A rush of air flowed through the breach as Logan stepped to the edge, surveying the battlefield below.

The city was ablaze with conflict. Gunfire and explosions echoed from every direction, and plumes of smoke rose into the sky.

In the street below, two squads of Helljumpers and a Cyclops mech were locked in a fierce firefight with local security forces and Weyland-Yutani's private military contractors.

The Helljumpers, with their advanced weaponry, were picking off enemies with precision, while the Cyclops mech unleashed devastating firepower against entrenched positions.

But the defenders' superior numbers and technological parity were beginning to take their toll. The Helljumpers and Cyclops were pinned down, struggling to maintain their momentum under heavy fire.

Logan grinned.

Without a second thought, he leapt from the building, his massive frame hurtling toward the street below like a meteor.

BOOOOOM—!!!

The impact was catastrophic.

Logan's towering form crashed down onto a government armored vehicle in the middle of the enemy formation, flattening it instantly. The explosion from the vehicle's fuel and ammunition sent shockwaves rippling outward, hurling nearby enemy troops off their feet.

Flames erupted from the obliterated vehicle, casting flickering shadows across the urban battlefield. The intense heat distorted the air, and the acrid smell of burning metal and flesh filled the area.

For a brief moment, an eerie silence descended upon the street.

All eyes—both friend and foe—turned toward the towering figure that rose from the smoldering wreckage.

Logan emerged unscathed, his Cataphractii-pattern Terminator armor gleaming in the fiery glow. His energy shields had absorbed the blast, leaving him completely unharmed.

The sight of the massive warrior, standing amidst the flames like a god of war, sent a chill down the spines of the enemy troops.

Those closest to him hesitated, their weapons trembling in their hands as they took a step back. Fear and disbelief were etched across their faces.

Logan raised his voice, his vox-amplified tone booming across the battlefield:

"Helljumpers! Advance!"

The words were like a rallying cry.

The Helljumpers, inspired by their commander's dramatic entrance, surged forward with renewed determination.

The Cyclops mech, emboldened by Logan's presence, stepped back into the fray. Its heavy rotary cannon spun up, unleashing a relentless barrage of rounds that tore through the enemy's barricades and defensive positions.

Logan wasted no time, charging straight into the heart of the enemy formation.

His boltgun roared, spewing explosive rounds that punched through cover and shredded enemy soldiers. His power claw crackled with blue energy, slicing through barricades and armor like a hot knife through butter.

The enemy troops tried to regroup, but Logan's assault was relentless.

A squad of Weyland-Yutani security personnel attempted to flank him, using smoke grenades to obscure their movements.

"Pathetic," Logan muttered under his breath.

His helmet's advanced optics easily cut through the haze, tracking their every move. With a single wide swing of his power claw, he eviscerated three soldiers at once, their bodies crumpling to the ground in a bloody heap.

The remaining flankers froze, only to be picked off by precise Helljumper fire moments later.

The street devolved into chaos.

Logan's unstoppable advance shattered the enemy's morale. Those who didn't flee outright were cut down where they stood, their weapons useless against his impervious armor and devastating attacks.

The Cyclops mech turned its attention to an entrenched machine gun nest, which had been pinning down one of the Helljumper squads.

BOOM—!

The mech fired a high-explosive round, obliterating the position in a shower of dirt and debris.

The once-formidable resistance was rapidly collapsing.

Within minutes, the combined assault of Logan, the Helljumpers, and the Cyclops had wiped out the remaining defenders in the area.

Logan paused in the middle of the battlefield, his boltgun smoking and his power claw dripping with blood.

The street was littered with the broken remains of enemy vehicles, bodies, and weapons. Fires burned in the wreckage, casting an eerie orange glow over the scene.

Logan opened a comm channel to his fleet:

"Status report."

"Commander," came the reply, "all anti-air installations have been neutralized. Auxiliary forces are being deployed across the city. Resistance is crumbling, but pockets of organized defense remain near key government and corporate facilities."

Logan grunted in acknowledgment.

"Send reinforcements to my location," he ordered. "We're pushing straight to the city's command center. This fight ends today."

"Understood, Commander."

As the comm channel closed, Logan surveyed the battlefield once more.

He could still hear the distant sounds of gunfire and explosions from other parts of the city. The rest of his Space Wolf brothers were carrying out similar assaults across the planet, systematically dismantling every last stronghold of resistance.

The Empire's victory was inevitable, but Logan intended to ensure it was swift and decisive.

He glanced up as a formation of Pelican dropships descended through the cleared airspace, their engines roaring as they brought reinforcements and supplies.

The auxiliary forces were arriving, ready to secure the city and solidify the Empire's control.

Logan's thoughts briefly drifted to the Predator he had killed earlier.

He knew there were more of them out there, lurking in the shadows, watching, waiting—and possibly hunting.

With a grim smile, he muttered to himself:

"Let them come. We'll show them what it means to challenge the Wolves of Fenris."

Across the Capital City—and indeed, the entirety of LV-426 Earth—the story was the same.

The Space Wolves of the 14th Company had unleashed their full might, descending upon the planet like the wrath of the Allfather.

Every major city, every government installation, and every corporate stronghold was under assault.

The skies were filled with the roar of dropships and the thunder of artillery. The streets burned as tanks and mechs clashed. And everywhere the Wolves marched, resistance crumbled in their wake.

By the time the auxiliary forces began their occupation, the planet's fate was already sealed.

The once-proud defenders of LV-426 Earth had been humbled, their weapons and technology no match for the superior firepower and tactics of the Space Wolves.

The banner of the Imperium of Mankind would soon fly over every city and colony, marking yet another universe brought into the fold of the Emperor's dominion.

And the Wolves of Fenris?

They would move on to their next hunt, ever eager to bring the Emperor's justice to the farthest reaches of the galaxy.

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