Olympus Diver Justice Pt.3

Part III: The Pursuit

The Sovereign Divine roared through warp corridors like a star-bound predator, hunger carved into every plate of her blackened hull. From the command throne, Titus VIII stared into the void, not at stars, but at coordinates.

He didn’t need a battlefield. He needed a direction.

Trigger stood beside him, visor down, mouth tight. Around them, the bridge pulsed with red-alert telemetry.

The Sovereigns Guard was being briefed in drop bays, their armor glistening in the firelight of vengeance. No jokes now. No banter. Just purpose.

"We have a trace," Atherion’s voice cut through silence like scripture.

"Nine Deserter Signatures exited Tarsh's orbit before the collapse. Based on trajectory, they rendezvoused with an unregistered cruiser in the Orbit of Curia. The ship now hides under civilian registry in the Orbit of Barabos."

Titus said nothing. He stood.

Trigger broke the silence. "They didn’t even run far."

"Cowards never do," Titus replied.

He gestured to the central display. The Signatures were clustered in formation. Whoever gave the order to flee didn’t just run.

They organized. They coordinated. They planned. Which meant they thought they were right.

That made it worse.

The Sovereign Divine warped to the edge of Barabos with the fury of Olympus in her wake.

Cloaked in reflective silence, she stalked the civilian cruiser—a repurposed ore hauler painted in neutral greens, flying no flag. Inside: forty-nine former Helldivers, Nine of them Olympus-trained.

Olympus intercepts light chatter. They thought they’d gotten away with it. They were heading to a Settlement on Baldrick —which is known for illegal arms swaps and mercenary recruitment.

They were planning to sell their Equipment, Olympus uniforms, even AI codes, in exchange for citizenship off-world.

The Sovereign Divine followed, and prepared.

After the Cruiser landed at the Settlement, The Sovereign Divine started firing at every Ship.

Titus said nothing, he dropped.

Trigger dropped with him. So did the rest of the Sovereigns Guard. No formation. No fanfare. Just orbital flame.

They breached the Settlements Defenses in five seconds.

Trigger moved like a scythe through grain, flamer roaring in enclosed halls. Titus walked in fire’s wake, Eliminating every Coward, his voice a whisper amplified through every deck:

"You were brothers. And you fled."

One diver tried to surrender. Titus burned him to ash.

Another begged for exile. Trigger executed him mid-sentence.

Every Room, every Hallway, every street became a graveyard. The Olympus Divers did not shout. They did not curse. They simply Eliminated. By the end, only one remained: the Officer who gave the retreat order at Tarsh.

He was found in the Headquarters, hiding. When Titus entered, he stood and saluted.

"I made a call. We would've all died."

Titus stepped forward. "You all did die. The moment you ran."

The officer reached for his sidearm—not in defiance, but guilt.

Titus stopped him. He didn’t deserve to choose.

The Sovereign Flame ignited.

The Olympus banners were draped over the Destroyed Buildings. Every body was burned. Every helmet was salvaged. Fifty-eight helmets mounted on spikes, welded to the Orbital batterys of the Sovereign Divine.

Titus stood atop the command spire as the Settlement was turned into a wastland.

"Let them see what loyalty costs when it's abandoned."

Trigger nodded. "Now what?"

Titus stared at the stars. "We dive."

And the war resumed.