Warhammer 40K in a box

Chapter 593 Steel Assault
The adamantite ram of the battle barge "Iron Will" tore through the thin interstellar medium at the edge of the Vulcan Hammer system, like an imperial sword suddenly appearing from the void.

Behind them, the fleets of Lakuan and the Valan clans deployed in a neat wedge formation, like a moving steel mountain range, solemn, massive and deadly.

The armor covering the ship's hull gleamed with a cold, hard gray-iron luster under the faint light of the nebula, and countless cannons and arrays of light spears emerged from its grim silhouette.

As soon as they emerged from the jump, piercing alarms, like a harbinger of death, resounded across the bridge of every ship, and red light illuminated the officers' stone-carved faces.

The orcs' wrecked spaceships—more like a giant junkyard forcibly mixed together by WAAAGH!!! energy—are like a rotting beehive, haphazardly blocking the route to Vulcan's Hammer.

These grotesque creations, haphazardly pieced together from asteroids, generations of abandoned ships, twisted metal, and unrecognizable space debris, are covered with a thick layer of wriggling green fungal carpet.

Countless crudely made turrets, rocket launch silos, and large cannons protruded from the surface, flashing an unstable and ominous green light.

Larger orc "raiders" and "killer cruisers" were hidden behind this mobile ruin, their rough and ugly hulls resembling lumps of iron hammered by a clumsy craftsman.

The filthy engine spewed out a tail flame that was a mixture of unburned waste and radioactive dust, leaving a morbid trail in the void.

"A large-scale WAAAGH!!! energy field has been detected, and its intensity continues to rise."

"The orc fleet is 37 percent larger than previously estimated."

On the bridge of the "Iron Will" ship, a technical sergeant reported in a monotone electronic voice, cold data streaming rapidly across his optical eyepiece, reflecting on the expressionless half of his face below.

Ferrus Manus stood before the tactical command post, like an iron god.

The right arm, covered in liquid metal—"Gorgon Skin"—unconsciously mimics the flow and changes in the enemy fleet's formation.

The metal surface rippled slightly, analyzing, predicting, and breaking down every possible move of the enemy into cold mathematical probabilities.

"Ignore the wrecked ships."

"They are just floating iron coffins."

"Prioritize eliminating their rear mobile forces."

Her commands were as concise as a hammer blow, as cold as deep space ice.

"Concentrate all the forward mid-range artillery arrays and light spear batteries, saturate the fire, and knock down those biggest green-skinned beasts."

"All frigates advance to form an interception screen and use close-in weapon systems and torpedoes to eliminate any Orc assault boats attempting to approach."

"Leave no opportunity for boarding."

"As you command, Primal Body."

The captain's response was as somber as a death knell, and was immediately transformed into a series of encrypted commands, which were then injected into the fleet's data link.

Without the slightest hesitation, the Imperial fleet instantly transformed into a perfectly coordinated, ruthless killing machine.

The heavy armor plates on the sides of the array slid off with a roar, revealing a dense array of honeycomb-like macro gun muzzles and laser arrays below.

The energy conduits hummed, the charging hum converging into a prelude to destruction.

After a brief silence, the first volley roared forth, igniting the void.

Countless scorching beams of light and solid projectiles weighing several tons ripped through the void, like an extension of an emperor's rage.

The scorching beams of the light spears burned everything in their path, while the macro cannon shells tore their targets apart with pure kinetic energy.

An orcish killing cruiser that had just emerged from the shadow of a wrecked ship was the first to be hit.

Its weak and unstable void shield, under saturation attack, instantly overloaded and burst like a soap bubble, flickering and disappearing.

Immediately afterwards, several heavy cannon shells hit the midsection of the ship.

A massive series of explosions tore its twisted hull in two.

The leaking plasma and the secondary explosion of the ship's internal ammunition magazines transformed its wreckage into brief but deadly stars, illuminating the surrounding swirling metal fragments and the instantly vaporized green corpses.

The orcs reacted chaotically and violently, but they were not without threat.

The various crude cannons on the wrecked ship began to return fire.

The green-skinned gunners howled and argued, firing large amounts of ammunition haphazardly at the Imperial fleet.

Most of the shells futilely struck the thick void shields of the Imperial ships, exploding into chaotic and inefficient plumes of green smoke.

The few that penetrated the shield only left eroded dents and deep scratches on the adamantite armor plates.

Some small Orc assault boats—more like welded-together iron lumps with engines and explosives—attempted to board the ship in suicidal trajectories. But they were immediately spotted by the dutiful Ash-class frigate squadron.

Close-in weapon system laser arrays weave a dense fire net, allowing whirlwind torpedoes to precisely target and kill targets.

These threats were reduced to brief flashes and spreading metallic dust in the void, kilometers away.

The fleet battle quickly devolved into a brutal and unequal massacre.

Every salvo from the Steel Hand fleet is precise and efficient, following a harsh logic of destruction to maximize the destructive output of energy and ammunition.

The ships coordinated perfectly, like the gears in a precision clock.

The orc fleet, on the other hand, relied purely on its numbers, brute force, and the bizarre power of the WAAAGH!!! energy field—a power that distorted the laws of physics—to barely fire weapons that should not have been able to function.

However, they lacked coordination and effective tactics, and their chaotic nature was exposed in the face of absolute firepower and tactical superiority.

"Iron Law, raise the starboard side by 15 degrees, saturate fire, clear out that cluster of assault boats."

"Priority sequence Gamma".

"Ruthless Logic, maintain your position and continue to suppress the firepower points in the C-7 area of ​​the abandoned ship."

"Report ammunition consumption."

"Forge, report engine status."

"Keep the array intact."

The cold, impersonal commands were exchanged between the fleet channels, without a single redundancy.

There were no cheers of victory, no fear of death, only absolute execution and efficiency.

Occasionally, heavy shells fired by orcs or stray energy beams would be lucky enough to hit their targets, causing violent tremors and internal explosions on the Imperial ships.

Damage reports are immediately uploaded to the flagship in binary code stream format.

However, it was quickly suppressed or offset by the efficient mechanical priests, damage control teams, and the multiple redundancy designs of the control system.

Ferrus's eyes remained fixed on the main tactics screen.

The rough cursors representing the large orc ships were rapidly dimming and disappearing, replaced by cold annihilation statistics.

Her "Gorgon Skin" undulated slightly, as if she were not only simulating, but also enjoying the rhythm of the enemy fleet's collapse.

"Air superiority has been basically secured."

The captain's report broke the continuous hum of the bridge.

"More than 80 percent of the orcs' main warships have been lost."

"The remaining scrapped ships and small units no longer pose an effective threat."

"Login window is open."

The metal-covered chin of Ferrus bowed slightly.

"Notify all landing forces."

"Final purification process initiated."

"According to plan."

"Target: Vulcan Hammer Main Continent, edge of Kel'Kadan Canyon, former Forging Temple area drop zone."

"All ground vehicles and vanguard units, first wave of assault."

The battle barge "Iron Will" adjusted its massive posture.

The main gun array on the broadside roared again, continuing to unleash devastating fire.

Clearing the final passage for subsequent landing ships, they blasted open scorching gaps filled with wreckage and death amidst the orcs' massive, bloated swarm of spaceships.

Ferrus turned around, left the command post, and walked toward the assembly module.

Her steps were heavy and firm, each impact of her metal boot soles against the adamantine deck sounding like the beating of war drums, foreshadowing an even more brutal battle on the surface.

(End of this chapter)