Iron Warriors, Iron Hands.
The two legions that loved piling on firepower the most seized the initiative. All manner of artillery roared to life, shells cutting through the air and leaving behind countless trails, weaving the chaotic sky like cloth.
Under the merciless assault of Gauss beams, the swarm chose to imitate the ancient Aeldari Empire, abandoning all defense and focusing solely on enhancing its attack power and speed. Any shell that landed in their midst could inflict horrifying casualties.
But to the bugs, this was hardly a loss. After all, without the extra bone plates and carapaces, these bugs consumed fewer resources to produce.
The Orks were entirely different from the bugs. They wore heavy armor several tiers more advanced than Space Marine power armor.
Energy shields enveloped them from head to toe, granting them excellent resistance against Gauss beams and artillery bombardment. If there was any drawback, it was that the Orks had become so few in number that they could be drowned beneath the sea of bugs, with not a hint of green visible.
Lastly, the daemons required special attention. They had already lost the traits granted by the gods and were mixed together like Degraded Ones, difficult to distinguish.
A lump of runny shit shouted, "For the Dark Emperor!" while wielding a flaming, blood-spewing blade, then unleashed ever-changing, unpredictable spells amid bizarre bubbling and steaming noises.
Fortunately, Tzeentch had never had the chance to integrate Slaanesh's Warp essence. Otherwise, these grotesque daemons would have charged forward at an utterly abstract speed.
But to the many soldiers of the Imperium of Man, daemons were simply daemons. They were supposed to be this ugly. No one cared what they had once looked like. All they knew was that The Emperor was fighting valiantly at their side!
The Emperor