Warhammer 40K in a box

Chapter 594 To Protect
The airdrop pod was filled with the hissing of hydraulic systems, the hum of energy weapons charging, and the low chords of the power armor servo system self-checking.

The warning scarlet lights rotated and flashed rhythmically.

It reflects the highly modified, expressionless metallic faces.

Their eyepieces and interfaces were stained as if with blood.

The air was filled with a mixture of pungent ozone, the fragrance of sacred lubricating oil, and the almost metallic smell of circulating coolant.

Every breath felt like a harbinger of war.

Ferrus Manus stands in front of the hardened hatch of her private drop pod, the “Wrath of the Gorgon.”

Looking down through the multi-layered, reinforced viewing window.

The surface of the planet Vulcan's Hammer was rapidly magnifying in her field of vision.

This once proud world has now become a rotten wasteland.

It was covered by a large, wriggling, disgusting green carpet of fungus.

It resembles skin afflicted with an incurable disease.

Thick black smoke billowed from countless still-burning giant foundries, utterly shattered city ruins, and blasted fissures in the earth.

It mixes with toxic chemical pollutants in the atmosphere.

It created a thick, suffocating haze that blanketed the entire planet.

Only the occasional massive secondary explosions on the ground, with their dazzling fireballs, could temporarily dispel this filth.

It shockingly reveals the truly hellish scene below.

The liquid metal on her right arm—"Gorgon Skin"—seemed to sense its owner's surging fighting spirit and impending slaughter.

Boiling and flowing silently.

Its surface shifts between a dark and deadly silvery-gray hue.

Sometimes it hardens to form sharp edges and barbs.

At other times, it flows smoothly like deadly living mercury.

Her voice came through the internal communication channel.

Cold, clear, and powerful.

It easily penetrated the engine's furious roar and the cabin's violent vibrations.

It is transmitted directly to the receiver of each standby soldier.

"Remember our objective in this battle!"

Her voice carried the unquestionable authority of the Primarch.

But deeper within is a rekindled, burning will called protection.

"We have come not to conquer these vile orcs, nor to seize empty glory—"

Outside the cabin, the prelude to war had already begun.

Dozens of Thunderhawk gunships, Storm Raven gunships, and an even larger Hellclaw attack aircraft swarmed out like deadly wasps from a steel hive.

It roared out of the massive hangar of the "Iron Will" and its escort ships.

They quickly formed a dense and deadly assault formation.

It began its death dive towards the planet's surface.

The orcs' chaotic but fierce ground-based anti-aircraft firepower was instantly activated.

He started screaming wildly.

Crude and twisted shells and high-energy rays shot into the sky like a dirty waterfall flowing backwards.

Clouds of smoke and highly unstable energy ripples exploded around the Imperial Dreadnoughts.

The furious roar of the engines at full power clashed violently with the mindless howls of the orcish artillery fire in the sky.

"—Just to protect the heartbeat of every human being who still clings to life in the ruins and shadows!"

Ferrus's voice suddenly rose.

Like a hammer striking, the sound was deafening.

"For every civilian still breathing on Vulcan's Hammer."

"For those loyal defenders who persisted in their resistance even in dire circumstances."

"To protect the territory and future of the human empire."

We must win!

We will win!

"For the Emperor! For Medusa!"

Countless low, unified battle cries erupted instantly in the channel.

Although it sounds like a mechanical roar after being filtered by the Vox sound generator.

Yet it contains an unprecedented burning determination and destructive will.

The vibrations in the drop capsule reached their peak.

The entire structure was groaning.

The red altitude indicator emitted a continuous, piercing shriek.

"Impact warning".

"Ten, nine, eight..."

Ferrus is firmly rooted like a mountain.

His right hand, covered in flowing molten metal, casually gripped the trembling bulkhead. "...Three, two, one!"

The "Gorgon's Wrath" drop pod is like a vengeful spear thrown down by the gods.

It was accompanied by a tail flame and a shock wave.

It crashed violently onto the ravaged earth beneath the Vulcan Hammer.

Even after being absorbed by layers of shock absorption systems, the enormous impact force remains.

It still emitted a sickening metallic creaking sound from the entire cabin.

The hatch opened amidst the final, ear-piercing screech of the hydraulic system.

It exploded outwards like shrapnel from a bomb!

The biting cold wind, thick with smoke and toxic particles, instantly rushed into the cabin.

It brought a pungent mixture of smells: burning metal, rotting organic matter, ozone, and a strong, rusty odor.

Ferrus Manus was the first to step out of the drop pod.

The heavy adamantite boots crushed the molten and then solidified slag beneath their feet.

It produced a crushing, deafening sound.

Her figure resembled a steel giant emerging from ancient mythology.

Towering and deadly.

Its arrival instantly attracted the attention of a group of howling orc boys who were raiding nearby.

These green-skinned beasts instinctively sensed an unprecedented threat.

They roared and brandished various crude guns and machetes.

However, it didn't even wait for their sluggish nerves to trigger the mechanism.

The other drop pods and Thunderhawk gunships behind Ferrus also landed like a meteor shower.

The hatch was wide open.

The heavily armored warriors of the Lakuan clan are like mobile steel fortresses.

They formed an unyielding defensive line with astonishing efficiency in an instant.

The initial salvo from bomb guns and heavy assault guns created a devastating storm of metal.

In an instant, the orc squad, along with their cover, was torn into flying pieces of flesh and metal debris.

Meanwhile, the warriors of the Valan clan displayed even more lethal agility.

They quickly dispersed in precise combat squads.

Precise and efficient bursts of fire cleared away all threats within the field of vision.

The scorching blue-green beams of the plasma weapon and the invisible force field of the gravity gun that distorted space to tear apart, crush, and utterly annihilate the orcs along with their crude fortifications.

More and more airdropped pods continued to crash into the surrounding area.

It was like a rain of steel descended by an emperor.

The warriors of the Steel Hands assembled swiftly with near-mechanical efficiency.

Unfold.

Form an impeccable battle formation.

The heavy, slow, and majestic melody of "Medusa's War Song" was broadcast through the Legion's internal communication channels.

Its grand and relentless rhythm is strangely mixed with the continuous firing of bomb guns, the killing hum of power weapons, and the frantic but futile howls of orcs.

Beneath this polluted sky, a death hymn, belonging only to steel, fire, and absolute will, resounded.

Ferrus did not linger in place for even a moment.

Her sensor array quickly scanned the entire chaotic environment.

Advanced tactical logic processes massive amounts of data instantly.

They immediately identified the direction where the fighting was most intense and the resistance was most stubborn.

The silhouette of that massive architectural complex in the distance, still magnificent despite its damage.

The location of the STC Temple.

There, the dense flashes of gunfire and the continuous sounds of explosions spoke of the most urgent need.

"go ahead."

Her orders were simple, direct, and left no room for argument.

"Clear all obstacles."

"Target: STC Temple".

“Crush them.”

The torrent of steel began to advance steadily forward.

The steps were heavy.

neat and tidy.

Unwavering.

Unstoppable.

They passed over scorched earth.

All that remained were countless shattered orc corpses, burning remains, and the utter crushing marks of defeat by the Iron Will.

(End of this chapter)