Olympus Diver Justice Pt.4

Part IV: The Final Justice

The cruiser wreckage had barely vanished into Tarsh's distant gas giant before the next phase of Titus’s response began. Olympus didn’t just punish in silence. It made examples.

Aboard the Sovereign Divine, every corner was now filled with the stench of scorched metal and soldered honor. The helmets of the fallen traitors—forty-nine in total—were mounted like a cathedral crown across the ship’s dorsal battery, blackened by fire, each one etched with the name of its wearer. Their names would not be remembered. Only their shame.

The Sovereign Broadcast Array activated. A transmission shot across the galactic network. Every SEAF military channel, every Helldiver command post, and every Olympus installation received the message. A simple feed: Titus, silent and imposing, standing beneath the mounted helmets as the cruiser burned in the background.

No words. Just judgment.

A slow, panning shot followed: the names engraved on the helmets, the orbital strike footage of the deserters’ deaths, and the final moment of the officer’s execution—all broadcasted without filter. The message was undeniable: betray Olympus, and you are erased.

The transmission ended with the Olympus sigil burned into screen, followed by the seal of the Death Watch Evolved.

On Super Earth, the Ministry of Truth classified the event as an internal matter. Olympus did not contest it. They didn’t need to. Divers across the galaxy now whispered of the Tarsh Massacre not as a scandal, but as sacred law.

In the days that followed, memorials rose—not for the traitors, but for the thirty Helldivers who died at Outpost 14. Their names were etched into the obsidian walls of the Sovereign Divine’s Sanctum. Trigger stood beside Titus as the final name was carved.

"No one runs again," Titus said.

Trigger nodded. "And no one forgets."

But vengeance was not the end. War waited.

New recruits poured in. Olympus Corps doubled its screening. Psych evals were replaced with loyalty metrics. Mindlink implants became mandatory for all who wished to serve under Titus. They would not think twice. They would not flinch.

Rumors spread of other deserters, hidden in neutral systems. Titus sent hunting squads—silent, precise. No broadcasts this time. Just disappearances. Olympus was not angry anymore. Olympus was cold.

Back on Tarsh, the outpost was rebuilt—walls taller, turrets doubled, garrisons hardened. At its heart: a massive obsidian statue of a lone Helldiver holding the flag of Olympus, surrounded by charred craters and old helmets welded into the concrete.

An inscription beneath read:

"To run is to betray. To stay is to burn. To burn is to be remembered."

The SEAF praised Olympus for their discipline. The Ministry of Truth denied involvement. Yet within Olympus ranks, something had shifted. The Divers were no longer just elite. They were feared.

Fear brought obedience.

Titus walked the firing decks of the Sovereign Divine, watching fresh armor being distributed. Trigger paced beside him. They said little. They never needed to.

When the next drop came, there was no hesitation. Olympus Divers stepped into their pods not with courage—but certainty. Every one of them knew what failure looked like. They had seen it broadcast across the stars.

And they would never be it.

Titus took his place in Pod One. The light turned green.

"Burn it all," he whispered.

And with that, Olympus returned to war.