Luna was right.
Her fleet's ambush in the asteroid belt was indeed inextricably linked to Lynn.
If it were someone else competing with Lynn, or even Caladogon.
Lynn wouldn't do that either.
Although that old guy was stubborn, at least he still adhered to the basic principles of being human and knew what rules were.
But Luna?
A Tzeentch Sorcerer rose to power by exploiting his family and through Chaos.
Lynn had no qualms about dealing with this kind of person.
So, on the day Luna began her first test flight of the Rule of Discipline.
A strange spaceship quietly left the Dead World B and headed towards the Carl II.
It was a flesh-and-blood spaceship covered in tentacles.
Its outer shell is not metal, but chitin, which gleams with a sickly purple light under the starlight.
The power source is the biomass conversion furnace, and each pulse is like the beating of a giant heart.
Unlike ordinary ships, it has almost no long-range attack capabilities, only drop hatches.
It was filled with countless sporangia ready to be launched at any time, densely attached to the surface of the ship like clusters of wild fruits about to ripen.
Purple Crystal.
That old ship, modified when it escaped from Necromunda, the mobile nest of the Rena Swarm, the first cornerstone of the Swarm in this galaxy.
It hovered in the darkness far beyond Carl II, like a hunter lurking in the shadows.
"Let's begin." A cool female voice rang out in the bridge.
Her true form was not on the ship; the eight-meter-tall behemoth was still slumbering in its warm bed deep within Twin Peaks Mountain.
But there is an enhanced Tyranid Warrior clone of hers on this ship, a consciousness node powerful enough to control this place.
The belly of the Purple Crystal slowly opened, revealing the writhing chambers inside.
Then, the first wave of sporangia began to be released.
They drifted toward Carl II like dandelion seeds, thousands upon thousands, densely packed.
Each sporangium contains dozens of Ripper or several Hormagaunt.
Their overall combat strength is not strong, but they have a mission.
Harassment, provocation, and keeping those Orks in turmoil.
The first sporangia landed on a floating waste base station, where a group of Ork Boyz from the Deffskull Clan were huddled around a large pot, scrambling to eat braised meat.
It was a large pot, five meters in diameter, filled with a thick, yellowish-green paste that was bubbling away.
It exudes a fragrance that makes humans nauseous, yet drives Orks mad.
Dozens of boys crowded around the pot, scooping it out with various containers, pushing and shoving each other, cursing and swearing.
The first batch of sporangia hit the waste pile, ruptured, and crawled out a group of insects only half a meter long.
The insects scurried around, some being chopped to death with cleavers, others being stuffed into their mouths as snacks.
These kids from the Deffskull Clan dare to eat anything, and their digestive abilities are surprisingly strong.
Some insects crawled along the base station and disappeared into the ventilation ducts and gaps in the waste.
"What the hell?" A Ork Boyz frowned as he chewed on a worm in his mouth.
"It has a strong, slightly sour taste."
His companion shrugged and continued grabbing the braised meat.
Nobody took it seriously.
But the second and third batches of sporangia arrived quickly.
The Purple Crystal released sporangia almost 24 hours a day.
Each subsequent batch was small, only a few dozen or a hundred pieces.
Moreover, it changes location after each batch is deployed, never staying in one place, giving the Orks people no chance to track it down.
The Orks were initially curious about this.
They fight with the Hormagaunt and the Termagant, capture some Ripper, study them, play with them, and eat them.
Some of the boys even started a competition to see who could eat the most bugs.
But soon, curiosity turned into annoyance.
Because there were too many insects.
They appear every day, popping up from all sorts of places.
You're sleeping when a bug crawls onto your face and bites your nose.
Or, while you're fighting, a swarm of insects lands near you, disrupting your battle rhythm.
What's worse, while they were cooking their favorite stew, a bug fell into the pot and ruined the whole pot of good stuff.
The most annoying thing is that you want to find the source, but you can't.
That damned meat ship always changes location every time it appears; you shoot it once and it moves on to another spot. It's impossible to catch it.
You just gathered your forces to surround and destroy it, and it disappeared.
Just when you let your guard down, it pops up again and continues to swarm those annoying insects.
The entire Carl II was like a wild beast constantly being harassed.
It was awakened from its slumber, enraged, and tormented by countless tiny stings, driving it into a frenzy.
Now it has awakened, opened its blood-red eyes, and vowed to make all its enemies pay the price.
The Warboss in charge of guarding Carl II was a Orks Big Mek named Iron Claw Chandler.
It was a gigantic Orks, over four meters tall, whose right arm was not flesh and blood, but a hydraulically powered clamp.
It is said to be modified from parts of a Warhound Titan, capable of tearing through the frontal armor of Leman Russ Russ with a single claw.
Hence the name "Iron Pliers".
Chandler stood in the main control room of Carl II, looking at the annoying reports with a grim expression.
This hall was transformed from scrap materials into an " Orks style".
Exposed pipes, flashing indicator lights, and mechanical devices of unknown purpose were everywhere.
A few Mekboy young men were squatting in the corner, tinkering with a buzzing machine.
"Are those bugs still coming?" Chandler's voice was mixed with mechanical tones; its body had undergone a high degree of modification.
"Still coming, boss," the underling next to him replied cautiously, shrinking his neck.
"They catch them every day, there's no end to it, the kids are going crazy."
Chandler slammed his pliers down on the control panel, leaving a deep dent.
The hydraulic system emitted a piercing squeezing sound, startling the few Mekboy young men so much they almost jumped up.
"Investigate!" it roared.
"Find out which bastard is behind this! I'm going to tear him to pieces and boil him in a stew pot!"
Upon receiving the order, the Orks leaders began setting traps around Carl II.
The Mekboy kids equipped meteorites with thrusters, turning harmless rocks into high-speed "projectiles."
They hid the impactor deep within the asteroid belt, camouflaging it with scrap.
" Waaagh! this way the enemy wouldn't be able to see the ramming boat!"
They dispersed their scrap fleet, lurking in ambush along various possible shipping lanes, ready to pounce and tear the enemy apart at a single command.
"Let the bugs come." Chandler grinned maliciously, his hydraulically driven metal jaw creaking.
"Once you're here, you're not leaving!"
But strangely, the insects suddenly disappeared two days ago.
The sporangia that were released continuously for 24 hours have never appeared again.
As if it had completed its mission, the Purple Crystal silently retreated back into deep space.
The Orks soldiers waited patiently for two days, but nothing came of it.
"Was all that work for nothing?" one of the boys muttered.
Chandler was also puzzled.
But it did not rescind the order; it reasoned that one must have a certain amount of patience when dealing with prey.
So, on the third day, they encountered Luna's fleet.
Deep within the asteroid belt, a Orks ambush force lies hidden in the shadows.
Their leader is a Mekboy named Karch.
This guy isn't very big, but he's much smarter than the average Orks.
It's not the Warboss, not even a big shot, but its ambitions are greater than any Warboss's.
It has always wanted to replace Chandler!
In the Orks crew of Carl II, Karch's position is neither high nor low, stuck in the most awkward position.
It has the ability and the skills, and it also has a group of followers willing to follow it.
But Chandler was too strong; with his Power Claw planted there, no one dared to utter a sound.
Karch had been waiting for his chance.
Waiting for an opportunity to prove itself superior to Chandler.
When Luna's fleet appeared within detection range, Karch's pair of eyes, one large and one small, lit up.