Founding the Legion's Auxiliary Forces

"House Horace is guilty of abusing its authority and dereliction of duty! The sentence is death!"

After the Orks were driven out of the Hive City, a sweeping trial began.

The Legiones Astartes handled the trial directly. Proceedings were swift and simple: less than two hours passed between sentencing and the execution platform.

It was not that Horace had confessed quickly. The Chaplain had simply used Great Memory Restoration.

Pull out a man's blood vessels and play cat's cradle with them. See if he still refused to talk.

Of the more than hundred members of House Horace, ninety-eight pissed themselves and immediately confessed everything they knew. The few who held out confessed after a single round of punishment.

Every member of House Horace was sentenced to burn. Their private soldiers, who had fought the Orks, were spared execution but not punishment. Most were sent to the Imperialis Militia's Penal Legion to fight for the Emperor for ten years, after which they would be free.

Compared with House Horace's sentence, that was mercy.

As the flames burned, the sins of House Horace were slowly consumed with them.

The Word Bearers would now take full charge of recruitment on the planet. A new Planetary Governor would be appointed, while the local Auxilia would have to clear out the remaining Orks.

Still, the courage of the planet's people surprised Wilson. Even at such a disadvantage, they had organized an effective counterattack and held out for so long.

Wilson considered turning the planet into a recruiting ground for the Word Bearers' Auxilia.

To that end, Wilson approached Major General Bernardo, who oversaw the reconstruction. On hearing the proposal, Bernardo immediately knelt and thanked them for their grace.

Their Population Tithe would begin in one Terran year. One in every ten Imperialis Militia soldiers stationed there would be selected to join the Word Bearers' Auxilia.

Each levy had to number at least a million, with no excessive padding of the ranks by unsuitable recruits.

In return, the planet would receive the Word Bearers' protection. Its people would live under a Planetary Governor supervised by the Word Bearers.

After settling the necessary matters, Captain Wilson returned to the Battle Barge and prepared to rendezvous with Chapter Master Colin.

Hundreds of light-years away, the main force of the Fourth Chapter was unleashing an even greater, more devastating assault on a distant Ork world.

This was the homeworld of the Ork tribe that had attacked Dawn III.

Seen from above its atmosphere, the entire planet seemed steeped in brutality and violence.

Its surface was covered in crude fortresses, towering mountains of scrap, and ramshackle factories belching thick smoke.

It was the source of all that "Waaagh!" energy, the breeding ground of the Orks' savage civilization.

Today, however, the uproar of the Ork world was shattered.

In orbit, the shadow of the Imperial Fleet spread over the planet like a shroud. At Chapter Master Colin's command, an Orbital Bombardment began the overture to destruction.

Countless dazzling Lances tore through the clouds like divine judgment, striking major Ork strongholds, energy reactors, and suspected command centers with precision.

Then came the broadsides of the Lunar-class Cruisers' Macro-cannons. Though silent in the vacuum of space, their mountain-sized shells left blazing trails as they plunged through the atmosphere. When they hit, immense fireballs and expanding shock waves were visible even from orbit.

The relentless bombardment systematically stripped away the Orks' orbital defenses and concentrations of troops.

Wave after wave of saturation fire plowed across the homeworld's surface. Great mushroom clouds rose, and the Orks' savage creations crumbled before the Imperium's most advanced weapons.

Before the aftershocks of the bombardment had faded, while the surface was still a sea of fire and chaos, the landings began.

Countless Drop Pods pierced the smoke-choked atmosphere like a rain of burning meteors and slammed into their designated landing zones.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

The heavy impacts beat like war drums in the heart of the Orks' home.

The hatches blew open, and Adeptus Astartes clad in the Fourth Chapter's distinctive colors surged from the steam like death incarnate.

The rhythmic, thunderous roar of bolters became the battlefield's dominant sound, drowning out the wounded Orks' howls and frenzied bellows.

A standard-bearer drove a great sacred Aquila banner, symbol of the Imperium of Man's supreme authority, deep into the Xenos-tainted soil.

The flag snapped in the winds of nearby explosions, as though proclaiming that the land had changed hands and the Emperor's glory would replace its savagery.

The Orks might still have been savoring their invasion of Dawn III and their brutal treatment of its human defenders. Their simple minds could not grasp that the Imperium of Man's retaliation would reach their own home so swiftly and with such force.

Destruction had come faster than their brawling, ruin-hungry minds could imagine.

Chapter Master Colin led from the front, his towering figure at the head of the line.

Flames from the explosions washed over his power armour. He carried a massive Power Fist on one hand and a Master-crafted Bolt Pistol in the other.

"For the Emperor! Purge this place! Leave nothing alive!"

The Imperium's Angels of Death advanced by company, cutting off, encircling, and exterminating every green target still moving with the efficiency of finely tuned war machines.

The Orks' vast numbers meant little against the Adeptus Astartes' peerless individual prowess, seamless coordination, and overwhelming firepower.

They were divided and trapped in strongholds built around natural terrain or crude fortifications. Every stronghold faced a merciless Space Marine assault.

Chapter Master Colin surveyed the battlefield and quickly picked out the largest stronghold, where resistance was fiercest.

It appeared to be a major Ork rallying point. Green figures crowded it, and its fire was the heaviest.

He pointed toward it without hesitation.

"There. With me."

He chose the largest concentration of enemies and the toughest position, then personally led his finest guard in a charge.

Imperial artillery, both from the warships in orbit and the armored vehicles that had landed, gave them perfect cover.

Shells rained down around the Ork stronghold, clearing a path and suppressing its fire.

Chapter Master Colin and his men smashed into the heart of the Ork lair like an unstoppable battering ram.

It was a vast cavern assembled from scrap metal, rock, and the Orks' savage sense of design. The air reeked of engine oil, sweat, and blood.

In its deepest chamber, Colin found the ultimate target of the assault: Ursor the Bloody, the Ork Warboss who ruled the planet.

Ursor towered over an ordinary Ork Warboss. He was nearly as large as an Astartes in Terminator Armour.

He wore armor cobbled together from thick steel plates and heavy rivets, crude but remarkably sturdy. A huge Power Klaw encased one hand; the other gripped a Chainaxe whose spinning teeth shrieked.

What caught Chapter Master Colin's eye, though, and made his pupils tighten, was the trophy hanging conspicuously from Ursor's waist.

It was a blue power helmet bearing a distinctive winged-eagle emblem, its surface covered in battle dents and split by a fatal crack.

It had belonged to a warrior of the Ultramarines Legion.

At the sight of Colin, Ursor showed no fear. Instead, he burst into thunderous, mocking laughter.

He tapped the blue helmet at his waist with his Power Klaw, making it clang.

"Heh! Another tin-can shrimp!" Ursor's voice rasped like grinding gravel.

"See this? My trophy! I've killed a dozen more just like him! I thought you Astartes were supposed to be tough, but you're nothing special! There aren't even enough of you to chop up!"

The crude, vicious taunt—especially the desecration of a fallen brother—struck like a spark to gunpowder.

The air around Chapter Master Colin turned cold and terrifying.

Behind his lenses, his gaze fixed on Ursor like twin blades.

There was no need for more words. None could match the hatred of that moment.

"For our fallen brother!" Chapter Master Colin roared.

They charged each other at almost the same instant.

In the clash, Colin's Power Fist struck Ursor's Chainaxe. The Disruption Field roared, pulverizing the weapon and Ursor's entire arm into a bloody mist.

"This blow is for the Emperor!"

Colin drove a fist into Ursor's hideous cheek. A single punch snapped the great tusk he prized.

"This blow is for the Imperium!"

Colin struck again, smashing through Ursor's blood-red eye and taking half his head with it.

"And this one is for our brothers-in-arms!"

Colin drove his fist into Ursor's mouth and shattered his entire head.

Ursor's head burst apart. Colin seized his headless corpse, hoisted it high, and shouted, "For the Emperor! Let these Xenos feel our fury! Bring them our destruction!"