Warhammer 40K in a box

Chapter 599 The Primitive Appears
The interior of the dispatch center is now unrecognizable; the once orderly command center has been completely transformed into a noisy and filthy orc lair.

The walls were covered with rough and ferocious totems, and the symbols haphazardly painted with unknown paint shimmered with a primitive and violent aura.

Various captured or homemade weapons and ammunition were piled up like mountains, emitting a pungent smell of engine oil, blood, and the stench of animal flesh.

A restless energy permeated the air, stimulating every inch of space like an invisible electric grid—this was the core source of the WAAAGH!!! field, the convergence point of savage will.

Ironjaw Ironbreaker, the newly appointed war leader of the orcish army that has invaded Vulcan's Hammer, sits atop a crude throne made of abandoned control consoles, torn armor plates, and rusty metal scraps.

He was even more burly and ferocious than his predecessor, his muscular body covered with layers of rough steel plates, the welds crawling across the surface of his armor like centipedes.

A large mechanical claw replaced his left hand, its tip dripping with thick black oil and undried blood, clearly indicating that he had just experienced a bloody crackdown.

At that moment, he was listening irritably to a trembling, stammering communications soldier reporting on the battle situation.

"What? The Iron Cans have broken in? And they beat my boys to a pulp?" Iron Jaw's roar was like rusty gears grinding against each other, making the air tremble. "A bunch of useless cowards! I, Iron Jaw, have to take action myself!"

He abruptly stood up, the metal soles of his boots slamming heavily onto the ground. Beside the throne leaned an enormous power claw, its serrated blades crackling with chaotic energy.

"Let's go! Let me dismantle these tin cans; their scrap metal will be enough to build me an even bigger one."

Before he finished speaking, something strange happened.

The main gate of the dispatch center, which was strong enough to withstand heavy artillery fire, along with a large section of the surrounding walls, suddenly burst inward!

It wasn't the impact of an explosion, but rather something so pure and extreme that it was smashed and torn apart!
Tons of metal fragments sprayed inward like shell shrapnel, riddling several orc guards who hadn't had time to react with holes, their limbs and green blood splattering everywhere.

Smoke and dust surged like a tide as a tall, imposing figure in silver-gray stepped steadily through the mess.

Feralus Manus held a massive power hammer, its head engraved with ancient runes, which now gleamed with a cold, icy light.

Her eyes, like two cold stars, pierced through the billowing smoke and instantly locked onto the orc chieftain before the throne.

Behind her, several elite warriors of the Valan clan silently surged in like ghosts, their explosive gun muzzles flashing with a deadly cold light, and quickly took control of various strategic points.

"So you're the leader of this bunch of trash?" Feralus's voice was deep and thunderous, carrying the natural pressure of a Primarch, each syllable seemingly striking the heart of every creature present.

Ironjaw Ironbreaker paused for a moment, his crimson eyes narrowing in rage, before unleashing an even wilder roar: "You're the tin can keeper who smashed my door? Perfect timing! I'm going to twist your head off and hang it on my..."

His response was a sudden charge from Ferrus!
The silver-gray figure broke the sound barrier in an instant, and the heavy power armor stomped on the ground with a continuous and muffled thud, like the sounding of a war drum announcing death.

The entire nest trembled under her footsteps.

"WAAAGH!!!" Ironjaw roared and swung its power claws, the surging energy tearing through the air, crashing down with a terrifying force that could rip Leman Rustank to shreds.

Felus dodged to the side with astonishing speed, the power claws whistling past her chest with a piercing energy blast, slamming into the ground and leaving a charred crater.

In that instant, her warhammer was already swinging out—not directly smashing into the orc, but precisely striking the connection point of the power claw's arm!
"clang--!!!!!"

A deafening crash was accompanied by screams of metal breaking.

The meticulously crafted power hammer clashed violently with the crude orc technology, sparking dazzling flames.

Ironjaw's powerful mechanical claw arm was completely shattered at the elbow joint!
The broken cable emitted a dazzling burst of electricity, and black engine oil gushed out like arterial blood.

"Ugh!" Ironjaw let out a painful howl, staggering backward. But Feralus's attacks were like a storm, relentless and unending.

While disabling the opponent's weapon arm, her left fist slammed heavily into Iron Jaw's abdomen like a cannonball!

The power gathered in the fist is enough to shake mountains.

"Boom!"

A dull crashing sound sounded.

Even the Orc Warchief's thick natural carapace and rough composite steel plates could not completely absorb the terrifying power of the Primarch's attack.

Ironjaw Ironbreaker was knocked off the ground, its massive body flying backward like a kite with a broken string, crashing heavily onto the "throne" made of piled-up metal scraps, instantly shattering it into pieces, with fragments flying everywhere.

He struggled to get up, green blood mixed with fragments of internal organs gushing from his mouth, dripping onto broken metal pieces with a hissing corrosion sound.

Feralus approached step by step, his hands gripping his warhammer tightly, the runes on the hammerhead now flashing with a dangerous light.

Her gaze was as cold as ice, fixed on the struggling orc leader.

“Your WAAAGH!!!” she declared condescendingly, each word like an icicle piercing the air, “It’s over.”

She raised her warhammer high, her movements fluid and powerful, as if she had been forged through countless trials.

The warhammer sliced ​​through the air, falling with unstoppable force.

The most primal fear finally appeared in Ironjaw Ironbreaker's eyes as he futilely tried to block with his remaining arm.

The warhammer fell.

There are no complicated tricks, only the purest power and the ultimate speed.

"boom--!!!"

The entire dispatch center was violently shaken!

The shockwave, carrying dust and debris, spread outwards in a ring, blowing away the nearby orc remains.

The ground, cast in pure gold, sank and cracked like a spider web around the point of impact.

As the smoke and dust slowly dissipated, Ironjaw Ironbreaker had become an unrecognizable mass of green flesh and broken metal embedded in the wreckage of the Broken Throne.

Only his war crown, crudely modified from a Space Marine helmet, lay to one side, cracked and completely twisted.

The leader's death had an immediate effect on the orcs.

The remaining orc guards inside the lair let out terrified howls, and the powerful WAAAGH!!! energy field that had enveloped the entire battlefield began to rapidly weaken and collapse, like a punctured airbag.

The orcs on the battlefield suddenly lost their leader and the madness that sustained them, becoming chaotic, hesitant, and even starting to kill each other or scatter and flee.

"The leader has been killed." Felus calmly announced to the entire army, his voice amplified through the helmet amplifier and reverberating across the communication channel, cold and unwavering. "Clear out all remaining resistance units. Thoroughly purify this area."

(End of this chapter)