This was already the fifth Leman Russ Tank Iron Claw had stomped apart. The Planetary Defense Force discovered, to their despair, that the armored corps they took such pride in was as fragile as paper before a single Ork Warboss.
It was not for lack of effort. They had already exhausted everything mortal men could do to stop the weapons of war created by the Old Ones.
High in the Command Centre's tower, Chuck stood before a glass window and looked down at the battle outside the main gate.
At first, he had been furious. Why had all the troops he sent failed to stop a mere few dozen Orks? Then, after seeing what Iron Claw and his Nasty Boyz could do, he gradually calmed down and sent more troops to the front to intercept them.
This time, he really had tried his hardest. He had worked hard to deploy his troops, to gather advice, to use every means at his disposal to halt the Orks' advance. But... why was he still losing?
Most of the units he had sent out had already suffered over fifty percent casualties. Many of their soldiers had become mangled corpses, piled among the burning wreckage at the gate.
Chuck had a feeling that no matter how many troops he sent, they could only buy time. They could never truly kill the largest monster leading the Orks.
The main guns of the Leman Russ Tanks achieved nothing when they struck that monster beyond explosions and smoke. Something seemed to be protecting him, blocking the shells.
Iron Claw, the star of the battlefield, felt himself growing stronger the longer he fought. No matter how many enemies there were, none were a match for him. The Humies' "flashlights," missiles, artillery, and bombs could not bring him down.