Chapter 63: The Orc Boss

The planetary war was exceptionally brutal and bloody.

The lives of soldiers were harvested and consumed by the battlefield as casually as roadside weeds.

With the assistance of the Primaris Space Marines, the Astra Militarum had once again held their ground, though at the cost of heavy casualties.

Hawke stood within the trench, looking at the unfamiliar companion assigned to him.

She was another young girl, also eighteen or nineteen years old, with innocent eyes brimming with faith and hope.

Yet this time, he did not speak to her.

The naval battle in the void was equally harrowing.

To swiftly rout the Orks, Corvu chose boarding operations.

Due to the presence of the WAAAGH! psychic field, utilizing teleportation to breach Ork vessels was undeniably a perilous endeavor.

This was a deeply mysterious force, often referred to as the power of "WAAAGH! magic" or collective belief.

It could bend the laws of physics on a localized scale, achieving whatever purpose the Greenskins desired in their minds.

Imperial scholars had once established a theoretical framework.

They pointed out that this belief-driven energy field contained psychic energies or quantum mechanical effects.

It allowed seemingly rickety and poorly designed Ork technological products to function precisely as the Orks expected them to.

In other words, once deprived of the WAAAGH! field, Ork machinery would cease to operate.

The WAAAGH! field not only sustained the functioning of Ork machinery but could also cause spatial interference, unleashing lethal spells akin to psychic phenomena.

Around the Ork Warboss, this WAAAGH! field was at its absolute strongest.

Rashly relying on teleportation raids was unquestionably an extremely dangerous gamble.

Mishaps were prone to occur, leaving boarding parties fused into bulkheads or torn directly limb from limb.

The safest method was close-range boarding using assault boats.

The fleet carved a path for Corvu's flagship, allowing the *Sword of the Emperor* to draw close to the Ork fleet's primary vessel.

At a distance of a little over fifty kilometers, ten assault boats launched from the hangar of the *Sword of the Emperor*, trailing exhaust plumes as they surged toward the Ork flagship.

Corvu led fifty Primaris Space Marines in the boarding operation, preparing to execute a decapitation strike against the Ork Warboss and secure victory.

The profile of the assault craft was inconspicuous within the vastness of the space battlefield.

Screened by a barrage of torpedoes and artillery fire, they rapidly skimmed past the Orks' point-defense network.

Inside the assault boat, Corvu was clad in blue and white Centurion power armor, secured to his seat by complex interlocking restraint harnesses.

"Transmit mission parameters," Corvu tapped the projected interface that sprang up using a finger sheathed in armor. "Primary objective: assassinate the Ork Warboss and incapacitate the target vessel."

An electronic tone chimed inside the helmets of the numerous warriors: *Mission data transmitted. Generating operational overlay model.*

Following the digital chime, pulse lasers flickered at the edges of their lenses, projecting a simulated battlefield dashboard onto their retinas.

It clearly listed ammunition counts, combat objectives, armor status, and more.

Aided by neural links and battlefield model computations, every marine's position was mapped onto the tactical grid.

To counter even more formidable foes, Archmagos Cawl had upgraded and redesigned warfare protocols for the Space Marines.

Every suit of armor was equipped with a micro-radar, constantly scanning the surrounding environment, processed by cogitators, and fed into the squad's public network.

Squad members shared each other's data to achieve optimal combat coordination.

As the assault boat hurtled toward the Ork flagship, the squad synchronized updates of their own positions.

They could clearly observe their distance from the Imperial vessel as well as the distribution of the Ork ships.

The ship's engines emitted a low hum, the vibrations of the hull transmitting through the restraint harnesses into their armor.

As the craft accelerated, the initially gentle g-force grew increasingly oppressive.

"Target arrival in one minute," Corvu said, gazing at the projection panel before him. "Perform a final weapons check. It is time to make these Orks feel the wrath of Mankind."

The sharp *clack-clack* of weapons being readied echoed as fully loaded bolters were disengaged from their safeties.

An electronic chime reverberated in the ears of every warrior, reporting the status of their armor.

The machine spirit within the armor executed a series of automated calibrations to ensure the wargear was in peak condition.

All the warriors were long accustomed to this routine.

They watched as the indicator runes for every metric shifted to green, the sign that the machine spirits were fully prepared.

*BOOM!!*

The impact echoed through the hull and into their ears.

The assault boat slammed into the Ork flagship, delivering a violent shockwave capable of giving a normal human a severe concussion, yet leaving them completely unscathed.

*Meltagun engaging. Estimated hull breach time: 30 seconds.*

The electronic voice began the countdown.

30.
29.
20.
19.
10.
9.
8.
7.
6.
5.
4.
3.
2.
1.
0.

As the countdown ended, with a sharp bang, the hatch at the bow of the assault boat was forcefully blown open.

The restraining locks automatically disengaged, and Corvu and his men strode through the hatchway.

The assault boat had punched deep into the hull of the Ork vessel. Near the doorway lay molten pools of iron and glowing red bulkheads, radiating a sizzling, intense heat.

No armor could withstand the sheer power of a melta charge.

Even steel several meters thick would melt into liquid iron before a meltagun.

Leading the troops, Corvu leaped from the hatch into the corridors of the Ork flagship.

Their power weapons hummed with energy, and chainswords roared to life.

Bolters instantly locked onto the nearest Orks.

"Big 'umies!"
"Big 'umies!"

The Orks, drawn by the vibrations, cried out in shock.

They had never expected the "big 'umies" to make an entrance quite like this.

*Bang!*

With a corridor-shaking detonation, an Ork warrior standing two meters tall had its upper body blasted away entirely by a massive bolt shell.

The gunshot acted like a signal, and both sides instantly plunged into melee slaughter.

Fifty Space Marines had selected ten insertion points along a horizontal line.

Their appearance drove the already volatile Ork vessel into an even greater frenzy.

Hordes of Orks poured in from all corners of the ship, attempting to crush the invaders.

Corvu held a bolter in one hand, obliterating an Ork before him with a single shot.

In his other hand, he wielded a massive, incredibly heavy thunder hammer.

He sidestepped a cleaver swung at his face, then brought his warhammer crashing down hard onto the enemy's shoulder. The Ork's axe was knocked from its grip, and its entire arm was shattered by the immense force.

Having failed his attack and suffered grievous injury, the towering Ork let out a roar of frustration.

Before the roar could finish, Corvu charged forward.

The power field crackling across the head of his hammer flared brightly as he brought it down mercilessly upon the creature's head.

The massive, grotesque Ork skull burst apart in all directions.

"For the Primarch! For the Emperor!" Corvu roared, pressing onward toward the next target.

The other warriors fought with equal ferocity, brandishing their weapons and slaying Orks amidst battle cries.

The Heart of Guilliman continuously supplied the Primaris Space Marines with stamina, turning them into tireless combat automata rampaging across the battlefield.

Another batch of bulky Ork warriors was beaten down.

The Orks grew chaotic; the Gretchin ceased their initial excitement, crying out as they fled for safety.

Ork Boyz wielding choppas hacked blindly toward the direction of the Primaris Space Marines, frequently cutting down a cluster of their own comrades from behind before ever reaching the enemy.

"Clear them out. Advance toward the control room," Corvu issued a new command.

The Primaris Space Marines rallied around Corvu, wielding chainswords and unleashing methodical boltgun volleys to reap the lives of the Ork Boyz.

The Librarian swung his force stave, crushing the skulls of any Orks that slipped past the lines, and unleashed his potent psychic might to tear apart every Greenskin in sight.

They carved a path of blood and iron straight toward the control room of the Ork flagship.

According to the scan data, the Ork Warboss was located right here.

"Big 'umie!"

Standing five meters tall and clad in elaborate, crude power armor, the Ork Warboss let out a deafening roar as he witnessed the intrusion of the Primaris Space Marines.

His massive bulk resembled that of a titan.

The roar was so ear-splittingly loud it felt as though one's eardrums might rupture.