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Perfection

I wonder sometimes if you Terrans know how powerful we Protoss really are.

You read of our ‘purity of form’, you see descriptions of our psionic abilities – but have you grasped how incredibly our species is?

We are demi-gods. We are the living pinnacle of what can be achieved through biology alone. Our physical attributes mean the weakest of us is stronger, faster and more intelligent than anyone in your puny race can ever hope to be. You rely on mechanisms and crude steel to match our legions in battle. Your soldiers can attack from afar – and yet our warriors move so swiftly and gracefully that your strikes can rarely hit them. And when we reach you, we tear you apart with weapons that are nothing more than a manifestation of our faith in the Khala and our desire to harm you – and even then they are superior to your finest craftsmanship.

Take our High Templars, for instance. They can lay waste to legions of men, destroying them without ever laying a finger on them. We are so very potent. And even when our High Templar use up their mental abilities, we can combine – become Archons. Entities of such awesome power and purity… Minds merge, memories become intertwined in a way wholly indescribable in your crude language of ‘words’ and sentences (Yet another way in which we are superior to you – we convey mind-to-mind, with empathy and emotion, feeling and exchange of consciousness. Spoken language can never compare.) Personalities also undergo fusion in the Merging, bringing out the strengths of both individuals and minimising the weakness of both. What can you Terrans do? Put two people in one of your vaunted vehicles? Pah! You hid behind steel, and yet our Archons go into battle protected only by the emanations of their own minds.

We can see the traceries of time itself, play games with probability and possibility. You Terrans talk so blithely of luck and chance – let me tell you, we create luck and we rule chance. We stand strong, immovable in the flow of eventuality. You strike us and we can see where the blow will land, more often than not evading it. We laugh at your warriors as they try to escape our righteous indignation – but we can see where you will flee to – and none can escape the justice of the Khala.

How ironic, that in your wisdom you did away with religion, with faith – and now where do you find yourselves? Squabbling in the dirt with each other, refusing to see past your petty difference. Yes, once we were not so different from you – but in our infinite wisdom we came together again, because our superiority over you knows no bounds. Our neural cords give us a matchless unity of purpose, one that you can never hope to attain, with your factions and confederacies and dominions and empires and directorates – how is it that you keep straight faces when speaking of such idiocy? Perhaps, in your ignorance, you do not see the humour inherent in your divisiveness – which seems to be the very essence of your race. If the Xel’Naga ever saw any purity in you, it was surely purity of failure. Because that same failure is manifest in every action your race undertakes.

And those few heroes among you are merely the exceptions that prove the rule.

It was our beloved defender that slew the Overmind. It was our warriors that turned back the Zerg time and again, when your own leaders turned them against their enemies. It was us that stood strong in the darkest hour, and it is us that will continue to shine like beacons, though the shadow of evil falls long over the cosmos.

You Terrans, bound in your muddy, fleshy cages! Your inferiority ever continues to astonish me! Even those of you who do find strong purpose are still restricted. But to a Zealot of the Protoss, when he finds that endless place where all things seem possible – for him, they really are. For even though our bodies are immeasurably truer that yours, even they are not the limit for us. We can phase –finding a place within ourselves that is perpetually aflame, and unleash it until it transfigures our entire being, transcending mortality as a divinity, a creation of energy and force.

Fear us, Terran, for one day we will come for you. We will judge your race – and I swear in the name of Adun, and the name of mighty Tassadar – we will find you wanting.

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