Warboss

"All you Boyz, look at me!"

A thunderous roar echoed across the battlefield. Even amid all the chaos, it rang clearly in the ears of every Ork.

Amid the churning green tide, a Warboss leaped onto the roof of a tank and stood tall atop it.

He was huge and hideous, with tusks bared in his mouth. His limbs had undergone ridiculously over-the-top mechanical modifications, making him look like a big, clumsy brute, and exhausts on his back belched clouds of black smoke.

But what really made it hard to keep a straight face was the Warboss's outfit. His burly body was clad in a uniform resembling that of a Commissar of the Astra Militarum, its bright red color standing out against the battlefield.

Extending a thick Mechadendrite, the Warboss pointed at the position the Astartes had established in the distance and bellowed, "Look at those Shrimp tin cans! They look down on us so much, they're so full of themselves, they actually think they can use their flesh and blood to take on the steel fists of Gork and Mork! They want to see who's bigger, who's tougher, who's more Waaaaagh!"

His voice carried across the entire battlefield through some strange amplification device.

"What do we say to that?"

The Ork Boyz answered the Warboss in a chorus of roars:

"Waaaaagh--!!"

"Ha ha ha ha ha! That's right! Just like that!"

The Warboss grew even more roused, his voice booming louder. "We're the Blood Axe Clan! For our Warboss! For victory! For the great Waaaagh!"

Naturally, with all that noise, the Astartes at the distant position couldn't have failed to notice them.

Dozens of specially made explosive bolts, capable of easily piercing shields and armor, came howling toward them in an instant.

But the Warboss paid them no mind, as though he'd expected this. He leaned slightly to expose his thick shoulder armor, while some strange green energy shield shimmered around him.

A rain of bullets poured down. The shots barely made it through the shield before bouncing harmlessly off armor made of who knew what material.

"Look, Boyz! I'm indestructible! Gork and Mork are watching over me!"

The Warboss roared at the top of his lungs.

Inspired by the sight, the Orks surged forward with frenzied enthusiasm, powering up their various war machines. They rolled like a tidal wave, firing salvo after salvo from their shootas and boomguns, blasting the defenses the enemy had established.

The thunder of heavy gunfire rang out in a furious chorus. This brutal battle of steel grinding against steel had reached its climax.

As the fighting intensified, the Astartes, hopelessly outnumbered, soon found themselves at a disadvantage.

Accompanied by the Tankbustas' excited laughter, rockets streaked out one after another like a curtain of rain.

These rockets were true to the Orks' style. You could never know what was inside them. One might contain nothing more than harmless flashes and smoke, while the next was packed with lethal Melta charges.

More and more Astartes fell, suffering heavy casualties. Their Power Armor was destroyed, revealing that there was nothing inside.

The Ork Boyz, of course, noticed this strange phenomenon, but quickly forgot about it.

Who cared what the hell they were?

As long as they could fight, it made no difference to the Orks.

All that mattered was Waaaaagh!!!

+Question: how much longer do we need to hold?+

An Astartes's thought suddenly spread through the psychic link. At the same time, he swung his Power Sword and cleaved through the choppa wielding Ork charging at him.

By now, they were caught in the surging green tide, pillars of bloodied resistance in a meat grinder, fighting the rampaging Orks every second.

Thanks to Rowan's incredible ingenuity and the power of Reality Warping, every Astartes in the former Blissful Angels War Band had awakened the ability to communicate soul to soul.

This ability formed an efficient network of information, linking everyone's consciousness through the Emperor's Psychic power and making them more united.

+Marsh, no need to wait any longer+

The Astartes company commander's thought came through the soul link.

+The mission is complete+

By then, a clear patch of ground had quickly been opened up beside the commander.

One after another, teleport beacons were driven deep into the earth. Psy-lightning arced between them, rapidly covering a vast area.

With a series of crackling psychic booms, the temperature plunged and tiny ice crystals formed on the ground. A large-scale Warp teleportation was complete.

A large force of reinforcements appeared within the teleportation zone.

Eighteen Dreadnoughts stood towering like mobile fortresses. Their firepower was powerful enough to suppress anything, more than sufficient to provide the frontline Astartes with the crucial fire support they needed.

And among them was Rowan himself, striding forward through a halo of psychic light.

Close behind him were Leonardo, clad in Adeptus Custodes Terminator Armor; Lucia, with wings on her back and a halo above her head; and Sibya, holding a Force Sword.

That's right. Rowan and his group had abandoned the ship in low orbit and chosen to teleport straight down, ready to unleash total slaughter.

"Let's go. Crush them."

Rowan nodded calmly and issued his order to those around him.

All the Dreadnoughts moved at once, their mechanisms rumbling as they strode forward on two legs, each step making the ground tremble.

Guided by the soul-to-soul communications of their fellow Astartes, they quickly rushed to their designated firing positions. A fierce barrage of suppressive fire erupted, immediately stabilizing the perilous battle line.

After hearing Rowan's order, Leonardo and Lucia sprang into action as well.

They surged forward at a speed even the reflexes of a Space Marine could barely track. In no time, they had raced from the center of the position to the very front of the battle, where roaring gunfire met them head-on.

Leonardo struck first as they charged.

Explosive bolts spat from the Guardian Spear again and again. None of them struck an Ork Boy, but that was no accident. Their accuracy was almost unbelievable.

Each explosive bolt followed an inexplicable pattern, striking every unstable-looking Ork contraption in the Custodian's field of vision in a specific order—including the Tankbustas' rockets, the smoke-belching engines of Ork motorcycles, and the explosive-packed suicide Squigs.

"BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM!!!"

Explosions thundered in overlapping waves, instantly tearing apart a huge group of Ork Boyz charging at the big, gold-armored guy who looked like the very embodiment of Waaaagh.

Leonardo didn't stop. He shifted his footing and casually dodged three Looted Wagon shells flying toward him, then plunged into the surging tide of armor.

When he reached a filthy wagon, he swung his spear and sliced the entire vehicle into several pieces in less than 0.1 seconds, tearing it apart on the spot.

The Ork driver inside the cabin was left staring in confusion. He reached up and touched his neck, where thin lines of blood had appeared. The next second, he and his beloved ride were both reduced to fragments.