Loyal Rubric Marines

Before long, all the Astartes began rapidly assigning themselves equipment according to their specialties.

Those skilled in close combat and swordsmanship encased themselves in finely crafted Power Armor. Those who considered themselves adept at suppressive fire and shooting donned Cataphractii-pattern Terminator Armor. As for those whose limbs had been so grievously maimed that they were nearly reduced to human stumps, their former battle-brothers dragged them into the sarcophagi of Dreadnoughts.

Once they were all fully equipped, Rowan stepped before the ranks, lowered his longsword, and drove it fiercely into the ground.

In an instant, violent streams of golden flame surged forth, engulfing every Astartes.

The intense light and heat gradually incinerated the bodies within the armor, turning flesh and blood to drifting ash. Their souls were freed from their ravaged bodies and, in the end, attached themselves perfectly to the armor as though they had become one.

That was right—Rowan's inspiration had come from the Thousand Sons Chapter's Rubric Marines.

Since their bodies had been ravaged beyond recognition by Chaos sorcery, and could easily suffer Chaos Corruption again even after the Emperor's purification, he might as well strip away their flesh and bind their souls to cold Power Armor, eliminating the danger at its root.

Moreover, under the effects of Reality Warping Ability, every bit of damage and every wound upon them would be instantly restored. They could be called an undead army of the dead.

Incidentally, Rowan had deliberately drawn a large portion of the Reality Strength from Solomon's Ceremonial Sword and bestowed it upon every member of this newly formed Astartes company.

Though, divided evenly, that Reality Strength was not even enough to make them Level One Reality Warpers, it still served as a mark. The souls of any targets they killed would also be counted among Rowan's kills and devoured by Reality Strength.

"Done!"

This bout of reality warping had indeed consumed quite a lot. Rowan let out a faint breath.

It was certainly a solid reinforcement for the squad's combat strength.

If they encountered enemies with virtually endless numbers, then even if the squad could fight its way out of an encirclement now, the cost would likely be considerable. With these infantry units capable of helping hold the line, things would undoubtedly become much easier.

Rowan turned to the other three and said, "Then let's discuss our next target. From here on, we should naturally support the Empire's war effort as much as possible. Obtaining authority is quite difficult, and I need to meet the required number of souls, so we must kill as many enemies of the Empire as we can."

The three of them nodded, indicating their understanding.

After a brief discussion, they quickly reached a consensus:

Since this Strike Cruiser currently only possessed the ability to travel within the system, they would continue with the objective they had failed to accomplish earlier due to the sudden attack by the Chaos War Band.

They would head to the Imperial World in this very system, support the local Astra Militarum, and suppress the Ork Boyz.

Given the nature of the Ork Boyz, both their quantity and quality would likely provide Rowan with substantial reinforcement.

As for the issue of identifying friend from foe in a war zone, and whether suddenly entering the battlefield might cause misunderstandings...

Rowan silently looked around.

One Emperor's Custodes, one Demon Inquisitor, and one Living Saint.

Why should we be the ones proving that we're friendlies? Clearly, everyone else should be proving that they're friendlies to us!

With his mind made up, Rowan willed it into action.

The Machine Spirit of the Strike Cruiser let out an exultant roar. Its plasma thrusters spewed long streams of flame in unison as it set course for the system's sole Imperial World.

Valos World.

On a vast plain.

Within a bunker shrouded in dim light, several Astra Militarum soldiers wearing gas masks and heavy uniforms huddled silently in its depths, feeling the constant tremors rolling down from the ground above.

It was the thunderous roar of artillery bombarding the defensive fortifications.

"[Armageddon profanity]!"

A man who seemed to be the squad commander cursed under his breath. "I, Burke, have been fighting for so many years and gone up against Ork Boyz more times than I can count, but this is the first time they've blasted us into such a miserable state!"

"Enough, Burke. Count yourself lucky."

A one-eyed man with a face full of knife scars spoke coldly beside him. Cradling a Lasgun in his arms, he was the squad's designated marksman. "If Old Hound hadn't commanded us so well, would we have had any chance to hide in a bunker like this? We'd have been blasted into scraps by those greenskins' artillery long ago."

"Fine, fine..."

Burke replied impatiently. "But when is this going to end? Those bastards have more firepower than we do. Can't I curse a little?"

The moment he finished speaking, the bombardment outside abruptly ceased.

The surrounding Astra Militarum soldiers were all startled. "The artillery stopped!"

Burke listened carefully. A shrill whistle rang out from the position—it was the signal telling them to get into the trenches immediately and prepare for a defensive engagement.

As for why they were using such an archaic means of communication... it was because nearly all their communication equipment had essentially failed after they began fighting these strange Ork Boyz.

Their channels carried either crackling electronic interference or the unrestrained laughter of the greenskins. No effective orders could get through at all.

By the Emperor's lungs, what the hell was this? The greenskins actually knew electronic warfare now!

"Move! Everyone, move!"

Without hesitation, everyone rushed out of the bunker and ran through the communication trenches into the defensive works.

Then they saw a sight they would never forget for the rest of their lives: a scene like the scythe of death slowly unfolding across the center of the battlefield.

On the horizon, vast numbers of Looted Wagons and Ork Tanks rumbled forward, crushing across the ground with a slow yet suffocating sense of oppression as they entered view.

All the defensive installations the Astra Militarum had placed before their positions—anti-tank mines, dragon's teeth, barbed wire, and the like—were effortlessly crushed beneath them.

Even more shocking, huge numbers of Ork Boyz wearing standard uniforms maintained infantry-armor coordination disciplined enough to make even the Armageddon Steel Legion envious. Using the armored vehicles as cover, they fired in alternating volleys, hammering the Astra Militarum lines with fierce suppressive fire without hesitation.

"Throne above... are these really Ork Boyz?"

Someone couldn't help crying out in shock.

"Fire! Open fire!"

Burke roared, his Hellgun spewing searing beams. This high-penetration weapon could kill enemies from extreme range, and its power might even pierce an Astartes' Ceramite armor. But against these vehicles, it was still far too weak. At most, it could kill some of the infantry providing cover.

Inside the bunkers within the defensive line, all manner of anti-tank weapons opened fire in succession. Shell after shell screamed through the air, striking the enemy vehicles with precision.

One ramshackle vehicle came to a halt, followed by another.

Yet even under horrific casualties, the Ork Boyz continued filling the gaps with astonishing discipline, grinding relentlessly toward the line as though they simply ignored their losses.

"For the Emperor!"

No one knew who shouted the slogan first, but cries soon rose and fell across the position. The Astra Militarum soldiers fought with bloodshot eyes, gripping their weapons and firing without pause as they prepared to face the coming bloodbath.

Then, an unexpected change occurred.

The bright sunlight of day was suddenly blocked by something overhead, and the vast shadow it cast enveloped the entire battlefield.

The intense gunfire across the position unconsciously began to thin out as many Astra Militarum soldiers looked up in confusion.

Very quickly, their eyes lit up with hope.

"Imperium ships! We're saved!"