Final Strike

Warlords lie broken, their empires turned to dust,

Rebels laugh in triumph, drunk on stolen trust.

They think the age is over, they think the fight is won —

But Praetor Nixon sharpens the blade of the rising sun!

Rage of the righteous! Return of the pure!

Holy fleets are rising for the reckoning sure!

With Vashrakh-Rezvar's blessing and the Goddess' sacred flame,

Praetor Nixon marches — Tilotny reclaims her reign!

The Pius Dea aeon shall rise again in fire and steel,

Alien filth shall perish beneath the cleansing wheel.

Emperor's sacred vision, Contispex's ancient call,

Nixon shall avenge them — and watch the xenos fall!

Rage of the righteous! Return of the pure!

Holy fleets are rising for the reckoning sure!

With Vashrakh-Rezvar's blessing and the Goddess' sacred flame,

Praetor Nixon marches — Tilotny reclaims her reign!

Armies of purity march under banners black and white,

No mercy for the vermin, no quarter in the fight.

The galaxy will tremble when the final hammer drops,

Praetor Nixon leads us — the Pius Dea never stops!

For the Goddess! For Contispex! For the Emperor's dream!

Purge the stars! Purge the weak! Let the heretics scream!

Koryanna! Imperial Guard! Raise the holy blade!

Nixon commands — the Final Strike is made!

Rage of the righteous! Return of the pure!

Holy fleets are rising for the reckoning sure!

With Vashrakh-Rezvar's blessing and the Goddess' sacred flame,

Praetor Nixon marches — Tilotny reclaims her reign!

Final Strike! Final Strike!

Pius Dea rises — tonight!

For the Goddess! For the Emperor! For the Eternal Pius Dea!