"Yes, we came under attack, but don't worry, Hols, my friend. You're safe here. We'll drive the enemy back." Ovisus rose as she finished speaking, preparing to head to the bridge and check on the battle.
"I can help. I'm good at fighting!" Hols proudly lifted his head. He pointed at the sphere around his neck and said, "I've got this, too. Boss Slick made it for me, because... never mind, explaining's too much trouble. Anyway, I'll be fine!"
In Ork culture, only those strong enough were taken along on a Waaagh!, and Hols could no longer beat the Nobs... so he was anxious, desperate to join the fighting.
"You should take him. His strength will be a great help," Yriel said inside Ovisus's mind. "The enemy is powerful. If you can't hold out, I'll have to burn my soul to destroy them."
"Mm... all right. Stay close to me."
At Ovisus's words, Hols happily threw both hands into the air.
On the battlefield in space, two Drukhari escorts struck the Flames of Vengeance with special weapons. Their ammunition was specially designed to cripple wraithbone's affinity for psychic power, the equivalent of attacking a machine's circuit boards.
The formidable Flames of Vengeance slowed as both its speed and maneuverability were severely reduced.
Superior weapons were what allowed Drukhari pirates to take on much stronger opponents.
Under normal circumstances, such a flawless ambush was like an assassin lurking in the shadows plunging a dagger into a target's body. Even if the target was strong and robust, the lethal poison on the dagger would finish the job.
The Drukhari excelled at raids like these. After all, their aim was to capture slaves to torture, rather than simply kill people.
Unfortunately, these Drukhari had underestimated the Flames of Vengeance. Once a Drukhari destroyer