Airdrop

"Blood Axe Clan?"

At that moment, on the Bridge of the Strike Cruiser, which had reached low orbit, Rowan gazed at the scene displayed by the Auspex and pondered briefly.

The Ork Boyz formations shown on the device displayed a quality completely at odds with their chaotic nature. Instead, they showed something that could only be called discipline.

Their attack waves and echelons both bore clear signs of training. Anyone with even a little experience could see that the coordination between their firing positions and tanks was off.

Clearly, these were the Blood Axe Clan, an especially unusual Ork clan.

Unlike ordinary Orks, the clan wasn't chaotic and disorderly. Its members imitated all sorts of human military behavior and learned human discipline.

In battle, they employed various human tactics and knew how to use their heads to devise strategies—harassing the enemy's rear, creeping artillery barrages, tactical flanking maneuvers, and so on. Sometimes, they even surpassed their teachers and did it better than humans.

"Never mind. There's no need to dwell on that."

Rowan didn't give it much thought.

Even with such an unusual Ork clan, given his Reality Warping Ability, Rowan shouldn't be the one afraid of the unknown enemy. The unknown enemy should be the one afraid of him.

"Then let's start with an orbital bombardment."

Following his invisible connection to the Machine Spirit, Rowan gave the order with a single thought.

In the sky, the Strike Cruiser's Lance batteries began to gather dazzling light.

Most of the ship's weapons had been completely taken offline, but a considerable number remained usable, including the Lance batteries, which relied on precision instruments.

These systems hadn't been twisted and corrupted by Chaos. Instead, they had survived the Emperor's Holy Power purging them.

Blinding crimson lasers shot from the ship. Under the excited gaze of the Armageddon Steel Legion soldiers in the trenches, they were like punitive spears hurled in the Emperor's wrath. They plunged into the earth, carving scorched-black streaks across the ground.

The Orks' artillery positions and numerous anti-aircraft defenses were quickly wiped out under the unrelenting orbital bombardment.

"All right. As expected, it doesn't work."

Rowan sensed around him and realized he hadn't devoured any souls. He furrowed his brow and sighed.

As the saying went, "I did not kill them; the weapons did." It couldn't have applied better here.

He had merely ordered the Machine Spirit to open fire. The Strike Cruiser was the one that had fired and killed the enemy.

Rowan considered whether he could take a Strike Cruiser roughly five kilometers long and capable of housing tens of thousands of people, raise the Reality Strength of the entire vessel and its Machine Spirit, then fly it around the Galaxy handing out Exterminatus orders.

In the end, he concluded that the Reality Strength required would be an astronomical amount, one he couldn't afford even at his current level. So he gave up on the idea.

After ending his brief deliberation, Rowan waved his hand and ordered, "Deploy the Drop Pods."

In the ship's drop-bay, the Astartes who had been completely transformed made their way down the long corridors beneath dim lights. Silently, they entered the Fear Claw Drop Pods waiting before them.

A large number of Drop Pods were released from the underside of the ship. They streaked across the sky and fell like meteors, moving so fast that red rings of compressed air formed around them.

On the ground, with most of their heavy anti-aircraft weapons gone, the Ork Boyz could only raise their shootas toward the sky and fire under the Ork Boss's loud instructions. They also strained to lift the small shootas mounted on their various ramshackle vehicles, using them as makeshift anti-aircraft guns to shoot wildly at the incoming Drop Pods.

But most of their fire missed. The remaining bullets struck the Fear Claw Drop Pods used by the Chaos Astartes with dull thuds, unable to inflict any real damage.

The Drop Pods slammed toward the ground. Their crimson retro-thrusters fired, abruptly slowing them, and they crashed down with a tremendous roar.

"Waaaaagh!!!"

The Orks roared.

A great many Boyz waved their choppas and shootas, howling as they surged like a tide toward every Drop Pod.

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The instant the Drop Pods touched down, their built-in automatic heavy bolters and Heavy Bolters sprang to life. The roaring barrage poured out like a torrential downpour, cutting down the Ork Boyz who hadn't had time to react.

A moment later, a series of soft pops rang out.

The tiny explosive charges designed to prevent mechanical failures detonated, blasting the Drop Pod doors wide open.

Astartes emerged from within.

They were an army of the undying.

They were an army seeking atonement.

In the endless wars to come, they would prove their loyalty to humanity, to the Emperor...

["For the Emperor!"]

Their bodies had long since turned to ash, and with them went their ability to shout their battle cry.

Even so, the words remained etched in every Astartes's heart. They raised their weapons and, in the Emperor's name, began their merciless slaughter.

The exhaust trails of Bolter rounds cut clear paths through the air. Their precise marksmanship, honed by a century of combat experience, brought death to every Ork in sight.

The Orks' bizarre vehicles, meanwhile, were met by one Melta Bomb after another, hurled like shells.

A blinding flash flared. Turrets melted into slag, and streams of molten metal poured into the cabins, instantly consuming the Ork drivers inside.

With Rowan's unstinting support, every Astartes was armed to the teeth.

Every one of them had an Iron Halo, master-crafted Bolters and specially made bolts, a vast supply of Plasma Weapons, inexhaustible Melta Bombs, masterwork Power Swords, Terminator Assault Cannons...

The steadily vanishing Ork lives across the battlefield made the results of this armament abundantly clear.

After suffering some casualties and clearing a patch of ground in the surging green tide, the Astartes immediately used the wrecked vehicles as cover and established a reasonably secure position.

The Orks, renowned as a warlike species, naturally weren't going to let this go unanswered.

When the Ork Boyz soon spotted these Shrimp cans that had chosen to jump straight into their steel tide, they grew excited.

A great many ramshackle vehicles and Ork Tanks began to close ranks. Their formation grew denser and denser, like a pair of pincers squeezing shut, as they charged straight at the Astartes, intent on grinding these enemies—who looked incredibly Waaaagh—into pieces.