When they breached the Ghoul Ork Empire's final line of defense, Luther had witnessed firsthand how the battle dwarf star annihilated the Orks' battle moon with overwhelming force.
That experience left a deep impression on the First Legion's seneschal. Having seen such an absolute disparity in scale, even a behemoth like a Thundercloud-class planetary warship had lost its former unique luster in Luther's eyes.
In the Calibanite's heart, the creed that more was beautiful, bigger was better, and caliber was justice had taken firm root.
Luther had even begun imagining a mobile Caliban. What a powerful weapon of war that would be.
The original Caliban had been good, but it came with too much baggage, placing too many constraints on him.
But now, only one relatively intact fragment of Caliban remained. They could rebuild it from scratch.
Luther looked through the porthole at Caliban before him.
Caliban's remaining celestial body was roughly an irregular ellipsoid. The surface still bore the grand outlines of monasteries, the edges of surviving forests, and rock strata sliced unnaturally smooth by force fields.
It floated there alone, like a sacred mausoleum adrift in cosmic dust, yet also like a newborn seed, radiating an air of sorrowful resilience.
"Your idea isn't impossible."
Lox said in a deep voice. Battle planets were nothing new to him, and constructing one would not be particularly troublesome.
"Rather than build a battle planet around Caliban's remains from the ground up, it would be better to embed them directly into the core of a battle planet."
He raised a hand and tapped the air, instantly unfolding a complex holographic projection.
At the center of the projection was a standard conceptual design for a human battle planet—not a monster like a battle dwarf star, of course. Its immense gravity would kill every