Kill Them All

A dense tide of steel, filling every inch of vision, threatened to swallow Rowan and his team whole.

At these numbers, even an Astartes would likely be overwhelmed and beaten to death.

But this time, the Orks had met their natural predators.

Three Kill Cans lunged at Rowan, their Gretchin pilots shrieking in frenzy, chain-choppas roaring like thunder.

But their wild, uncoordinated swings were full of holes, and without the slightest resistance, the Living Saint and the Adeptus Custodes carved them into pieces.

Unlike the chaotic and feeble Gretchin, the Fear Tanks piloted by Ork Boyz performed somewhat better, but the result was no different.

Rowan didn't slow for a moment, merely swinging his sword to turn several charging Fear Tanks into molten iron.

Even tank-grade vehicles showed their helplessness, tossed into the air like toys by an Alpha-level Psyker's invisible psychic power, crashing down to crush a swath of Ork Boyz beneath them.

"Blast 'em! Now!"

Inside the Battle Fortress, Ork Boss Galia saw this through the observation window and roared.

He could already sense that these humies would likely break through the line and charge right at him in no time.

As a Heavy Boss of the Blood Axe Clan, Galia had some brains and wasn't stupid enough to think he could take on these weird humies.

"On it!"

A Mekboy bellowed.

With a grating, teeth-clenching screech, a heavy main cannon on the Battle Fortress slowly turned, aiming its barrel at the invading humies, ready to let loose a shot and blow these stinking humies to meet their Gork and Mork.

As for what kind of shell this was, or what was inside it, even the Mekboy himself probably didn't know.

But who cared?

It'd definitely blow these stinking humies to bits. As for the Orks swarming around them... good luck to 'em.

"Lord Rowan, be careful! Those Xenos are about to bombard us!"

Through her psychic sight, Sibyl saw this and shouted a warning.

"I see it."

Rowan replied calmly. "But they won't get the chance."

He estimated the distance. "Almost... this range should be enough."

By now, the squad had carved through nearly half the Ork line, destroying most of the heavy vehicles blocking their path, and were close to the Battle Fortress.

Rowan focused his mind, and the familiar sluggish sensation returned, air bursting and shattering around him. The next second, he vanished, reappearing instantly on the armor plating of the Battle Fortress.

Every obstacle in his path was smashed apart, carving a bloody trail—limbs flying, metal fragments scattering everywhere.

While the surrounding Orks were still stunned, Rowan calmly swung Solomon's Ceremonial Sword.

A blazing golden light flared like a star, an extreme heat flashing in an instant.

The massive turret dissolved into free-floating molecules, and the Mekboy inside vanished into nothing, utterly annihilated.

Done, Rowan turned his gaze to the Ork Boss in the cockpit and slowly reached out.

The Ork Boss Galia, about to resist, froze as the air around him turned into an unyielding solid, his body as if cast in steel, every joint locked tight like a bug trapped in amber, completely immobile.

Then, his body floated lightly upward, drifting toward Rowan.

Rowan stepped forward calmly, grabbing the beast by the throat.

Knowing his fate, Galia lost his earlier panic. Gnashing his teeth, he roared at Rowan in Low Gothic, "Don't get too cocky, humie! Our Blood Axe Clan's Warboss is waiting for you in Darksteel City! You'll taste defeat beneath those walls!"

"And our Warboss will rip your head off and make it a new trophy!"

As the roar died, Galia's eyes widened.

He'd imagined all sorts of reactions from this humie—scorn, contempt, anger, calm—but never this.

Rowan's eyes lit up, a flicker of excitement crossing his face, so clear even an Ork could read it.

Galia knew that look well.

As a true Ork, he'd seen it on his own boss's face—the eager bloodlust of finding a worthy opponent or a prime prey.

"So, you're not the real leader of these Orks. There's a bigger fish?"

Rowan laughed. "That's... even better."

With that, he hoisted his captive, showing him off to the Orks frozen in shock at their boss's capture.

Then, Rowan raised Solomon's Ceremonial Sword, wreathed in Golden Flame. A flash of light, and it pierced straight through Galia's chest.

A blinding glare flared, and the Ork Boss's body from the neck down turned to ash.

Rowan tucked the head at his belt, swept his gaze over the terrified Orks, and roared:

"Kill! Slaughter them all! Leave none alive!"

Amplified by his reality-warping power, the rolling shout spread across the entire battlefield.

At that cry, the Orks' morale shattered, and they scattered in panic.

The one-sided massacre began.

On the other side, Burke raised his Hellgun and pulled the trigger.

The scorching laser beam pierced the twenty-eighth Ork fleeing with its back to him, and he couldn't help but sink into thought.

Earlier, when he saw the support ships arriving from the trench, Burke had been thrilled.

After all, with space superiority and orbital bombardment, even a foolish commander couldn't fail.

But when he saw the ships in the sky beginning to deploy Drop Pods, he was stunned instead.

"Even if those Drop Pods carry the Emperor's Death Angels, jumping straight into an alien tide of steel is still suicide, isn't it?"

As a veteran of the Armageddon Steel Legion, Burke's combat experience told him this was undoubtedly a suicidal move.

"We have to support them!"

Very naturally, this thought appeared in his mind.

Afterward, the commander of the Armageddon Steel Legion, "Old War Hound," as always, displayed his command prowess to his men.

After a moment of silence, the pre-set contingency plan was activated. One by one, Leman Russ Tanks and Chimera Armored Vehicles drove up from the rear, following pre-planned routes and charging toward the Ork positions.

Burke leaped out of the trench along with his comrades, forming combat squads with the pre-assigned tanks, and began to engage the Ork horde.

He had thought this would be a difficult rescue operation, but things went surprisingly smoothly.

Along the way, the Steel Legion encountered almost no enemy vehicles. Even when they did, they were quickly wiped out by a single volley from the tank units, which, for the first time since arriving on this planet, held a numerical advantage.

As for the Ork Boyz they met, they completely lacked their previous ferocious momentum, showing almost no will to fight, and were easily mowed down in waves.

"Tch!"

Burke clicked his tongue.

This counter-charge, which should have been a bloody affair, was even less intense than some of the pacification campaigns he had fought in before!

After a firefight that could hardly be called a battle, they finally caught sight of the Astartes' forces.

But the scene before him left Burke utterly astonished.

Those towering Astartes figures exuded a sacred yet eerily indifferent aura, and their bodies seemed barely scratched, let alone suffering the heavy casualties he had anticipated.

Scanning the area, he couldn't see a single severely wounded or dead Astartes lying on the ground.

"How is this possible?"

All around the battlefield, the steel wreckage of Ork vehicles was scattered everywhere, clearly indicating a fierce battle had taken place. Yet on the ground, there were only countless Ork corpses—not a single one belonging to an Astartes.