Bombardment

The battlefield suddenly fell silent.

Witnessing their boss die such a brutal death right before their eyes, the reckless madness in the Ork Boyz' eyes gradually faded, replaced by a much clearer look.

As Lucia slowly stood up on the roof of the vehicle, her cold gaze sweeping across the area, quite a few of the once-ferocious Ork Boyz dropped onto their backsides. In the end, they scattered in all directions, scrambling to flee.

This was a common flaw among the Orks.

Once the Ork Boss, a node of "Waaagh" energy, died, all the Ork Boyz completely lost their will to fight. They instantly shifted from fearless warriors to trembling cowards, their fighting spirit growing terribly weak as they focused solely on fleeing in a panic.

This fatal weakness also made the Orks one of the species in the universe most afraid of being decapitated.

Then again, was there any species in this universe that wasn't afraid of decapitation tactics?

Rowan wondered to himself.

But as the saying went, strike while the enemy was down. Seeing this, all the Astartes immediately advanced their line and gave chase.

Bolters and Assault Cannons unleashed a barrage, while beams of plasma and even melta rays tore through the air, slaughtering the enemies fleeing with their backs to them far more efficiently than before.

Naturally, the Orks weren't entirely unresponsive.

At the rear of their battle line stood an enormous battle fortress, festooned with all kinds of cannons, large and small. A bulkier Ork Boss rose to his feet and peered out through an observation window. He was Galia, the commander of this battle.

He scratched his chin with a thick finger and asked the Orks beside him, "What's goin' on?"

But after hearing his underlings' confused, overlapping explanations, his expression grew even more baffled.

"What's the deal? What d'you mean Zhalia got run over by a big golden Shrimp in a huge vehicle?"

It sounded absurd. Even by the standards of the Orks' chaotic and disorderly way of thinking, it was too bizarre to make sense of.

Galia suppressed the urge to immediately swing his massive fist and beat the speaker black and blue, then began thinking about how to deal with the situation.

"By Gork and Mork..."

That Shrimp warship in the sky still hadn't been dealt with. He was trying to figure out how to avoid its Lance bombardment. Those enormous beams could tear through anything with ease.

He'd thought the enemy had shown a proper fighting spirit by coming down to fight, and that they were a good opponent—properly "Waaagh." He hadn't expected them to be so capable. They could fight, all right, but they were just a little too good at it.

Still, Galia quickly made up his mind.

"You! Get over 'ere!"

He pointed at an Ork at random. "You. Yeah, you, whoever you are... Never mind, names don't matter. Go organize those terrified Boyz and have 'em counterattack right now. Hold those humans up and set up a line. Stop 'em!"

As he spoke, he glanced around. His eyes lit up, and he dragged a Mekboy out of the mob. "And you! Yeah, you! Get that krumpin' loudspeaker of yours and shout into it. Round up every big, tough, massive unit you can find! Them Gretchin cans, the Dread Cans, all the tanks—get 'em over here!"

"That Zhalia git didn't deserve to be in the Blood Axe Clan! All day he was either thinkin' up sneaky tricks that weren't proper, or with his head full of fightin'. Not 'Waaagh' at all!"

"Today I'm gonna make a formation that's dead impressive, unstoppable, and super 'Waaagh'! We'll bunch up into one big fist and crush them stinkin' Shrimp! When our 'Fist of Gork' comes down on their lines, their fleet's laser cannons won't dare fire, no matter how bright they are!"

"Yeah, that's it! I'm the sneakiest!"

Elsewhere, Rowan had been firing alongside the advancing Astartes squad, surrounded by the roar of battle. Suddenly, he came to a stop.

He turned to look at Sibia and asked, "Is that intel reliable?"

Sibia nodded, pale blue psychic light glowing in her eyes. "Yes. I've sensed the Xenos gathering their armored units, trying to increase their troop density so they can crush us all at once."

"Oh, is that so?"

Rowan pondered for a moment. "That does sound like it could be troublesome."

He quickly understood what the enemy was planning.

They intended to use the Ork Boyz' lives to slow his advance, buying time to gather their forces before overwhelming him in a single, thunderous attack.

After all, the reason the Adeptus Custodes and the Living Saint had been able to cut loose among the enemy was that the heavy weapons mounted on the vehicles couldn't turn their barrels fast enough to keep up with them.

The "little water pipes" in the hands of the Ork Boyz accompanying the tanks posed no threat to them at all. They didn't even need to dodge, which was why they could move freely among the enemy.

But if the enemy gathered all their armored units together and charged in a dense formation, like a wall, then the situation would become somewhat troublesome. It would be like a giant iron fist smashing into them.

After all, even a Greater Daemon powerful enough to corrupt an entire planet and plunge a whole sector into war wasn't immune to the threat posed by vehicles.

The most famous example was the Great Unclean One—whose name shall remain undisclosed—that had been sent back into the Warp after getting rammed by a certain lorry.

"But what exactly are they thinking?"

Muttering in exasperation, Rowan drew Solomon's Ceremonial Sword and pointed it at the sky.

Through his connection to the Emperor's Psychic power, he reestablished a clear link with the Machine Spirit of the Strike Cruiser above. He could call down another orbital bombardment at any moment.

It was true that Rowan wasn't very keen on using orbital bombardment.

But that didn't mean he couldn't.

Just as Rowan was about to give the order, a series of shrill whistles cut through the air, interrupting his thoughts.

Incoming artillery!

Rowan immediately went on alert and layered another shield over himself.

"Didn't I already wipe out most of the Orks' artillery when I teleported down?"

But he soon realized that the thunderous booms rolling across the sky weren't aimed at them. They were targeting the Ork horde.

"BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM—!!"

One high-explosive shell after another seemed to find its mark, bursting among the Orks who had just been rallied. Shrapnel tore through bone and flesh, blossoming into sprays of blood and mowing down whole swathes of Orks.

The bombardment was terrifyingly precise. It immediately threw the Orks' newly organized forces into disarray, scattering their formation once again.

As a result, Rowan and his companions advanced several times faster.

"...That was incredibly accurate artillery fire."

Rowan and Sibia were both astonished.

Anyone with even a little knowledge of the Astra Militarum knew that, due to the Imperium's rigid system and poor administrative abilities, most Astra Militarum regiments were divided along rigid lines: infantry regiments had infantry, artillery regiments had artillery, and so on.

On top of that, they spent years fighting across the stars, suffering enormous personnel and equipment losses. Generally speaking, the Astra Militarum was short on heavy indirect-fire artillery units, and many officers were unfamiliar with this kind of rapid-response artillery support.

It was hardly surprising that, in most battles, the T'au whipped them around like tops.

One side was still using First World War tactics, while the other had already embraced integrated fire support. It would've been stranger if the Astra Militarum had won.

"This Astra Militarum force seems to have some real talent."