Guilliman, You're a Hamster

The Ashen Claws' rearguard was torn to pieces by the surging green tide.

Tens of thousands of mega-armored bosses, Deff Dreads, and Killa Kans brandished their deadly weapons, crushing the last resistance amid earth-shaking cries of WAAAGH!

All that remained on the soil of the Ork world was swirling dust and spattered blood.

This was not a war. It was a naked slaughter.

Ork warlord Bloodhowl Zak felt the blood in his body boiling, and even his terrifying bulk seemed poised to swell and strengthen once more.

This was the war machine forged by the Old Ones. Even after being weakened by the Necrons, even as a cursed and castrated version, it still possessed unimaginably dreadful potential for war.

The weak among the Orks would be eliminated in war, while the powerful survivors would be further strengthened by WAAAGH! energy.

Moreover, the genetic technology imprinted in their genes would awaken and revive, creating even more terrifying Ork technology.

Meanwhile, in space, the Orks' junk warships and battle moons began moving, tearing into the twenty warships brought by the Ashen Claws.

"We'll cover your retreat. We have to get word of what happened here out."

The commanders of the other escort ships spoke with absolute resolve.

Chief Librarian Zoi had already teleported back to the bridge command chamber of the flagship Malicious Claw.

Every muscle in his body trembled and spasmed. The terrible consequences of overusing psychic power continued to lash back at him.

There was a strong chance that his flesh would continue to decay beneath the erosion of Warp psychic energy, eventually turning him into something neither human nor daemon, like the Thousand Sons of old.

But Zoi had no time to worry about himself now.

He had no time to grieve.

The moons they had once thought were