What's the Price, Gul'dan?

Then the auxiliary Sergeant acted without a moment's hesitation.

He put all his strength into the gunstock, throwing his weight against it. His feet dug into the ground as he wrenched the rifle outward and twisted the blade hard!

As the bayonet turned, it tore a wider wound through the Ork's skin, thick as an ancient Tree. More blood sprayed out, taking more of its life with it. There was even a faint crack of bone in its neck.

At last, the Ork's pupils went dull. Its massive body lost all support and toppled backward, rolling down the rubble Slope it had just climbed. It hit the ground outside the wall with a heavy crash, throwing up a cloud of dust.

"Waaaaaaaagh!"

"WAAAAAAAAAGH!"

Far from frightening the Orks away, the soldier's attack was like a drop of water hitting boiling oil. It set the endless green sea beneath the wall ablaze.

More Orks saw their companion die. Instead of frightening them, the sight only inflamed their hunger for battle.

As countless Orks and Gretchin roared, more green figures charged up the rubble Slope.

They were no longer a disorganized mob. Behind them, the slightly "smarter" Ork leaders and war bosses began covering the advance with crude but effective heavy weapons.

Huge solid shells howled into the walls on either side of the breach. Explosions sent showers of stone through the air, pinning down the Imperial soldiers who tried to lean out and fire.

Crude rockets streaked across the sky, trailing white smoke before slamming into the wall and causing fresh collapses and flames.

Gunfire poured over the Imperial Army's positions like water. Sparks flew from the parapets and fragments sprayed everywhere, forcing the Imperial Army Sergeants to crouch low and shelter behind the wall as best they could.

"Hold! Hold! Fire! Fire at will!" a sergeant shouted at the front line. Explosions nearly drowned him out, and strain and fear warped his voice.

The Meltagun in his hands gave a muffled roar. A scorching jet of energy vaporized the Ork at the head of the charge, along with half its iron armor. A moment later, two more Orks charged through their comrade's fading ashes!

For the Imperial Army, the worst had happened.

Close combat with the Orks had erupted at the breach. The moment it began, the place became a merciless vortex of death.

Orks and Imperial soldiers alike fought with everything they had to kill each other. They used whatever weapons they could, even their teeth and bare hands.

One Imperial soldier had just dropped an Ork Boy with a burst from his Lasgun when a taller Ork beside it swung a heavy, spike-studded iron club at him.

The soldier instinctively raised his rifle to block.

"Crack!"

With a sharp snap, the Lasgun's metal stock and the bones in the soldier's arm shattered together.

He fell screaming. A moment later, the Ork finished him off with its club.

The Ork had barely let out a victorious roar when another Imperial Sergeant nearby raised his weapon and pulled the trigger.

A ruby-red beam flashed out, blasting a large hole through the Ork's head.

Elsewhere, three auxiliary Sergeants stood back-to-back in a small bayonet formation.

They panted for breath, their bayonets already coated in thick green and red blood.

A roaring Ork charged them and was impaled on all three bayonets at once. But its brute-force lunge broke their little formation as it died.

Another Ork seized the opening and rushed in. Its huge Choppa swept across them in a spray of blood.

Two soldiers were cut in half, their pale intestines spilling out. The third was luckier: the Choppa only caught him in the waist.

"Brother!"

The surviving soldier wailed at the two halves of the body, then charged in fury. He wrapped his arms around the Ork and dragged it down with him.

"Die!"

With the Ork pinned beneath him, the soldier pulled the pin on his grenade.

"Waaaaaagh!"

"Aaaaaah!"

"Boom!"

They roared at each other, pouring every ounce of anger from their bodies.

Then the grenade exploded, blowing them both into a mist of blood.

Inside the Defense Line, a veteran was fighting for his life.

He had only just pulled his blood-soaked bayonet free when another Ork lunged at him.

There was no time to aim. He threw himself into a clumsy sideways roll, narrowly avoiding a fatal chop.

The Ork's Choppa struck the ground where he had stood, sending up a shower of sparks.

Half-kneeling, the veteran raised his Lasgun to fire, but the Ork kicked him first. The tremendous force sent him and his rifle flying into the ruined wall behind him. His vision went black, and pain tore through his insides.

"Fuck you..." the veteran muttered, glaring at the approaching Ork.

"WAAAAAAAAGH!"

The Ork gave a triumphant bellow. It strode closer and raised its Choppa for the final blow.

Just then, a blue Disruption Field flashed past.

"For the Emperor!"

A squad sergeant had arrived!

His Power Sword hummed as he brought it down in a precise, vicious diagonal stroke. Rather than strike the Ork's thick shoulder armor, he aimed for its weapon wrist!

The Disruption Field tore easily through the crude iron bracer and the flesh and bone beneath, reducing them to a cloud of blood.

The Ork howled in pain. Without slowing, the sergeant stepped forward and thrust his Power Sword through its heart.

He hauled the nearly breathless veteran to his feet. "Can you still move, soldier?" he demanded.

"Yes... yes, sir!" The veteran struggled upright and grabbed his weapon again.

"Good! With me! Hold this position!" The sergeant wiped Ork blood from his faceplate and scanned the rapidly worsening line.

More and more green figures poured through the breach. The human defenders were forced steadily back, leaving bodies and severed limbs with every step.

The battle had become a chaotic, brutal struggle at arm's length.

Lasguns cracked at point-blank range. Power Weapons struck flesh with dull thuds. Ork bludgeons smashed through armor with sickening force. Dying human soldiers screamed, and wounded Orks roared in rage...

The sounds tangled together. Bayonets snapped, guns crumpled, and bones broke with muffled cracks, over and over again.

Blood splashed across the blackened wall and gathered into streams flowing down the rubble slope. Green mingled with red, giving off a nauseating stench.

Severed limbs lay everywhere. Shreds of Imperial Army uniforms and crude Ork armor littered the rubble.

Every second, someone fell.

One soldier smashed an Ork's face with his rifle butt, only for an axe flying in from the side to split his shoulder.

A sergeant fired his Plasma Pistol on overload, blowing a group of Orks to pieces. The weapon exploded too, leaving him gravely wounded on the ground.

The Orks drove countless massive war beasts into the line, their tusks and claws tearing through the defenders...

"Why is the attack moving so slowly? There are only a few tens of thousands of those little runts!" Ork Warboss Skulltaker Gul'dan was furious. His roar echoed through the Star Fortress's command room.

Dozens of Imperial officers' bodies lay strewn across the floor of what had once been an orderly command room. Blood stained the floor red and filled the air with a sickening smell.

The officers had clearly been helpless against the Orks' sudden assault. Their lives had been snuffed out in an instant, leaving behind this bloody scene.

"My lord, we—"

"I don't want excuses! I want answers!"

The Ork's attempted explanation did nothing to cool Gul'dan's rage. He glared at his subordinates through bloodshot eyes and roared, "Speed up the attack! Tell those boys to hit them hard!"

His voice thundered through the room, making it seem to tremble.

As Gul'dan bellowed, he crushed the Gretchin underfoot whenever they got in his way.

The small, vicious-looking Gretchin screamed beneath his enormous feet, but Gul'dan paid them no mind. All he cared about was his anger at the slow advance.

Gul'dan's massive frame nearly matched a Dreadnought in size. Every step struck the floor with a heavy thud.

He strode toward the control room the Ork technicians were modifying. It housed the core of the Star Fortress's defense system.

In the vast control room, hundreds of hulking, heavily muscled Ork Big Meks were busy working on the enormous Star Fortress control apparatus.

A sudden roar cut through the noise. "How's it going?"

At Gul'dan's voice, several Big Meks dropped what they were doing. Like a disturbed swarm, they hurried down from the consoles and rushed over to him.

"Almost done, Lord Skulltaker!" one Big Mek answered breathlessly, a trace of nerves in his voice.

A sly smile spread across Gul'dan's savage face as he listened.

"Keep wrecking the Star Fortress's controls!"

At Gul'dan's order, a burst of crackling followed. Indicator lights across the Star Fortress's control apparatus began to flash, and alarms sounded.

Gul'dan paid them no attention. His gaze stayed fixed on a display, watching the numbers that showed the Star Fortress's energy fall.

That was his plan: use the Star Fortress to attack the little runts' last Defense Line and wipe it off the map.

Then the little runts would never be able to mount any effective resistance.

As Gul'dan savored the thought, more than a dozen battleships and Battle Barges emerged from the Warp amid the dark stars and headed straight for the Star Fortress.