Sector O-87
"Waaaghhh!" the Orks bellowed, their warcry echoing across the scorched plains as they thundered toward the Imperial trench line.
Las-beams and bolt rounds snapped through the air from the defenses—bright streaks of lethal energy and explosive shells lighting up the field. The Guardsmen held firm in their dug-in positions, pouring disciplined volleys into the oncoming horde. Heavy bolters roared, autocannons chattered, and plasma bursts flashed like miniature suns, cutting down swathes of greenskins with every volley.
But still, the Orks came.
Fueled by rage, madness, and the sheer joy of battle, they charged headlong into the storm of fire, uncaring of losses, eager only to reach the enemy and break something.
But unfortunately for them, there are other things in the trench line.
A deep, bone-rattling sound rolled across the battlefield.
Then came the tremors.
From beyond the rear lines, three towering shapes emerged through the smoke and dust—one Warlord Titan flanked by two Reaver Titans, each step shaking the battlefield.
The two Reaver Titans made the first move. Their Gatling Blasters spun to life, rotating at blinding speed. In a heartbeat, thousands of high-explosive shells screamed across the field.
The impact was apocalyptic.
Whole mobs of Orks were shredded in seconds—flesh, bone, and crude armor torn apart by the torrent of firepower. Smoke pillars rose from the detonations, turning the ground into molten, cratered ruin. Those not instantly annihilated were flung aside like ragdolls, broken and burning.
With just one attack, the Titans had wiped out most of the enemy force. Only scattered groups of Orks remained—easily dealt with by the Guardsmen now holding the trenches.
"Looks like we survived another day." The Colonel of the 235th Regiment said, lowering his binoculars.
"Yes, sir." A young lieutenant replied, standing beside him. "With the Titans here, there's no way we'll lose."
The two stood in a modified Taurox, its roof cut away to allow better visibility for officers. A long-range vox unit buzzed softly beside them, patching in updates from across the battlefield.
But before they can celebrate longer, the earth shook once again as the Warlord and the Reavers Titans starting to move north.
"The Princeps just can't have a rest, can they." The lieutenant said with a sad tone. "They have been moving around and fighting on all the defense line since the day we arrived here."
"It's their duty." The Colonel said with a strict tone. "Just like ours, all of us have our own duty in this war."
The young lieutenant gave a quiet nod, eyes still fixed on the titanic war machines as they lumbered away—each footfall a seismic drumbeat that rattled their Taurox.
"Look." The Colonel said while looking through his binocular. "The Orks are coming again."
The lieutenant snapped back to attention, eyes narrowing as he turned toward the horizon. Black smoke was beginning to rise again from the far horizon, thick and oily against the sky. Even from this distance, he could hear the guttural howls and screeches of the greenskins—closer now.
"Get the men ready." The Colonel said firmly, his gaze unwavering. "If the Titans are moving north, that means Command expects something worse up there. We hold this sector until we're told otherwise."
The lieutenant gave a crisp salute and climbed down into the Taurox. He moved quickly to the vox unit, his voice sharp and steady as he began relaying orders across the regiment.
Men snapped to action, engines rumbled to life, and lasguns were checked one more time. The next wave was coming—
and they would be ready.
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Sector A-01
"The Vortan Maniple has been operating for thirty-nine hours straight," the vox-officer reported, sweat beading on his brow. "According to Princeps Vortan, they'll need to return to the Drop Vault for refueling and rearming. Ammunition is low across the board, and plasma levels on the Warlord are nearing redline."
Atharion stood at the center of the command post, eyes fixed on the tactical hololith. His fingers tapped once on the edge of the table.
"Understood." Atharion said at last. "Order 5th and 8th Armoured Regiments to move in and reinforce the Sector."
"Yes, my lord." The officer replied, immediately patching the orders through the vox-net.
Atharion then turn towards a Tech-priest. "I hope the Maniple can return the battle as soon as possible. We don't have the luxury of time."
"I will convey your wish to the Magos Autokratoris." The Tech-priest intoned, vox-grated voice devoid of emotion. "All efforts will be directed to refuel, rearm, and conduct primary sanctification rites at accelerated pace."
Atharion nodded and turn back to the hololith as he see the icon for the 5th and 8th Armoured Regiments advancing towards Sector O-87.
"How's the preparation on the assault?" Atharion ask. "Even if they are holding now, we must kill the Warboss before they are able to overwhelmed them."
A senior officer stepped forward, servo-skull trailing behind him with a data-slate in its mechanical jaws.
"The Black Templars have successfully in clearing the Camp 34." He said as the servo-skull connect itself to the holotable. The hololith flicker before showing the new information. "Marshall Galren reported that they suffer low casualties, his Templars and the Regiments assign to them." The officer stop, as seem hesitate to continue. "Marshall Galren.....have took the liberti to continue their advance without waiting for the supply convoy."
Atharion's eyes remained fixed on the shifting hololith, the faint glow casting sharp lines across his stern features. For a moment, he said nothing.
"Of course he did." He said quietly.
He turned slightly toward the officer. "Did he at least leave a rear detachment to secure the camp and protect the wounded?"
"Yes, my lord." The officer nodded quickly. "One squad of Templars and two regiments of infantry have been assigned to hold Camp 34. Vox-traffic suggests Galren's force is advancing along the Vox-Ridge Pass—likely attempting to flank the Ork positions near O-91."
Atharion let out a slow breath.
He then tapped a location on the hololith. "Redirect the 12th Mechanized and the 99th Logistics Corps. Have them push toward Camp 34 and reinforce the rear. If Galren insists on charging ahead, we'll ensure his back doesn't break."
He turned to the Tech-priest. "Divert two squadrons of Thunderhawk with spare munitions and medical supplies to his route. Tell the crew to drop it directly into his path if they must."
"By your will," the Tech-priest intoned, already voxing instructions to the logistics network.
As Atharion watching as updated icons flickered into place—Thunderhawks rerouting mid-flight, regimental markers adjusting formation, and the long trail of Galren's crusade force pressing forward into contested territory. He then implode about the Lamenters situation.
"What about the Lamenters," He ask as he still looking at the hololith, making sure he can react the moment something happen. "How's their progress?"
An aide-officer stepped forward, data-slate in hand, his expression composed but cautious.
"Chapter Master Cormarion have break through the Orks line and currently converging on the Warboss last know location."
"But..." Atharion can see the hesitation on his face and feel his feeling, scare and panic. "The Lamenters have suffer heavy loses when they try to save a Regiment that have been broke by a large group of Nobz."
Atharion drew in a deep breath and remained still, his face an emotionless mask. He would not show his true feelings in front of mortals.
"How heavy are the losses?" He asked, voice even—though any who listened closely would catch the edge of restrained anger beneath the calm.
The aide swallowed harder than Atharion would have liked.
"Initial reports indicate they lost four squads attempting to break the Ork encirclement of the regiment, and another two during the extraction itself. The Lamenters' 7th Company—assigned to the mission—has effectively lost all combat capability."
The Lamenters had already suffered grievous losses during the initial landing. As the vanguard of the second wave and fighting to protect the bastion, their 3rd and 5th Clcompanies had taken the brunt of the Ork's fury—both reduced to half strength. Now, with the 7th company nearly annihilated, the Chapter had only three full-strength companies remaining, and two more barely combat-capable.
Even the Black Templars, who had also served as the vanguard and continued to push the front lines forward, had lost only four Crusader squads in total.
'It seems their misfortune is beginning to show itself this early.' Atharion thought grimly.
"334th regiment that saved by the Lamenters have suffer 86% casualties and have lose all combat capabilities. They are currently retreating to the base at LA-4."
Atharion exhale silently. "Redirect 56th and 43rd regiments to replace them."
He stop and look at the Lamenters icon on the hololith. "Inform Cormarion to pull back with this Chapter, they have done their best and they deserve a rest. And order Caden to lead the attack, tell him to purge everything."
The aide lower his head. "By your will."
Atharion nodded and said with a soft tone. "Have some rest, you deserve it."
The young aide's face lit up for a brief moment before he caught himself, returning to the posture of a disciplined soldier.
"Thank you, my lord." He replied, voice steady. But Atharion still caught the quiet note of happiness beneath it.
As the command center silence down to only the voice of cogitator can be hear, a new visitor have arrived.
"Hello there." Zaerion said as he walk out of the dark corner. "Looks like the battle are not going in your liking."
"Indeed," Atharion reply without looking back. "While the battle are progressing well, the cost are heavier than anticipated."
Zaerion moved to Atharion's side, folding his arms as he studied the glowing projections before them. Tactical icons flickered—some blinking red, others fading to grey.
"So, did you confirm that the Warboss is truly here?" Atharion ask, looking at the Drukhari.
Zaerion put on a smile, a smile that Atharion don't like.
"Yes, and no." Zaerion said slowly. "This is indeed the Warboss you all trying to find and kill, but this is not the Warboss you want."
"Explain." Atharion's eyes narrowed.
"This is the Warboss you wanted," Zaerion said, his voice smooth, "but not the one you needed. The Orks here are already united under a single Warboss… one who isn't even on this world."
Atharion's eyes twitched. His grip on the edge of the table tightened, knuckles whitening beneath his gauntlet. After all the losses—especially the price paid by the Lamenters—they hadn't even struck the right target.
Zaerion noticed the reaction and gave a low, amused chuckle. "Don't look so grim, Atharion. While this isn't the final Warboss, you still have an opportunity to wound the Waaagh!"
He gestured toward the icon of the current Warboss, the one present on the battlefield below.
"This one commands a mighty warband in his master's name. One of the largest under the Waaagh's banner. If you kill him here, you won't stop the green tide, but you'll scatter this warband, weakening the overall Waaagh!"
Atharion stood there in silence before letting out a sigh, his tenses body also loosen.
"It's better than nothing." He said in a hush tone.
Atharion then look back at Zaerion. "Do you have the location of the Warboss?"
Zaerion didn't said anything but type on the panel, resulting the hololith to change to another world, a world that surrounded with a large fleet of Ork warship.
"This is where the Warboss at." Zaerion said with a tense tone. "I have lost good men just to gain confirmation of his presence on the world."
"If your men have been kill by the Orks, do you think he will stay there?" Atharion ask. With what this Orks doing, Atharion speculate that the Warboss have some cunning in it, which is a bad thing.
Zaerion shrugs. "I can't give you any promises. But with how the Orks behave naturally, I think that the Warboss will stay there anticipating a more challenging opponent that he can fight."
Atharion nodded. Indeed, no matter how cunning they are, they will only run when they feel threatened or something else happen.
"Then, we will shatter this warband here and march on to the Warboss." Atharion said as he raised his hand and slowly moved it over the hololith, casting a shadow across the icon representing the Warboss they now faced.