Warhammer: Striving to Be a Grinding Man

Chapter 130 Invernus - Upper Nest

The blue-white halo of the Void Shield was faintly visible at the edge of the crack in the dome.

The ruins of Upper Nest cast long shadows in the low-angle light of the stars. Invernus was a pyramid. Lower Nest was the foundation buried underground, Middle Nest was the industrial behemoth stacked upon the foundation, and Upper Nest was the complex of buildings atop the pyramid, lifted high into the air by an adamantine framework. Upper Nest occupied less than one percent of the entire hive city, yet it housed the hundreds of millions of the most powerful people in the entire hive city—nobles, high-ranking civil officials, guild tycoons, and rulers who issued orders from the governor's palace. The remaining billions of people were crammed into Middle Nest and Lower Nest.

The "sky" of the middle nest is the steel dome, tens of kilometers square, of the bottom armor plate of the upper nest, embedded with countless lights and ventilation ducts, which illuminates simulated starlight at night. The "sky" of the upper nest is the dome of the outer shell of the nest city—the steel wall hundreds of kilometers away is obscured by the smog, leaving only a blurry, dark rusted arc.

But part of Upper Nest is open to the elements. The tallest building in the Spire pierces the outer shell of the hive, exposing it to the planet's atmosphere. Before the war, the roof gardens of those palaces, the clock tower of the governor's mansion, and the observation decks were where nobles basked in the true sunlight. Now the sunlight still shines, but only on the ruins.

The rail bombardment prior to the Combined Fleet's landing left countless scars on the hive city. These wounds weren't limited to the steel dome of the Hive City in the Spire area, where several breaches were blasted through, allowing sunlight to stream in and illuminate the factories and residential buildings. This is why rail bombardment could directly hit the Hive City. The hive city's "sky" was never a single solid armor plate; it was a three-dimensional structure composed of countless layers of steel frames, pipes, and platforms. Rail bombardment shells penetrated through the weakest points and exploded internally.

But the sky above the nest isn't just about sunshine and shields.

The orc fleet in orbit wasn't just sending out fighters. Crude assault pods were ejected from the hulls of wrecked ships, trailing orange-red plumes of flame as they crashed into the surface of Invernus like a meteor shower. The pods' outer shells were welded together from armor plates salvaged from Imperial warships, and the blurry outline of the Imperial double-headed eagle still lingered on the bulkheads.

Some assault pods were deflected by the Void Shield, exploding into fireballs on its surface; others slipped through gaps in the shield's energy fluctuations, crashing into the ruins of the upper hive and creating plumes of smoke. The hatches were blasted open from the inside, and the orc lads roared as they charged out, firing their rifles wildly in all directions.

But the air defense arrays of the hive city did not remain silent. The fixed turrets repaired on the dome of the middle hive and the outer wall of the upper hive—the twin heavy laser cannons and the quadruple missile launchers—have been gradually restored to operation thanks to the efforts of the technical priests of the Garros Legion.

They are distributed across every high point in the hive, intertwining with the firepower of the Hydra anti-aircraft tanks, cutting the sky above the hive into countless deadly sectors.

The P-type fighters poured out from the gaps in the abandoned orbital ship, trailing black smoke and dark red flames as they swooped down, skimming the curved surface of the hive's outer shell. Their wings were asymmetrical, their armor plates pieced together with rivets and sheet metal, and their turrets protruded haphazardly from under their bellies and wings. There were too many of them—dozens at a time, cutting into the open area of ​​the upper hive from different directions.

Hydra anti-aircraft tanks deployed amidst the ruins of Upper Nest. Their four long-barreled automatic cannons spun simultaneously, and radar arrays continuously scanned behind the turrets, locking the flight paths of every Pseudo-Spy fighter onto the fire control system.

Fire! All four cannons roared simultaneously, a dense barrage of fire weaving across the low sky. One fighter jet was hit in the engine, tumbling and crashing to the ground, leaving a trail of smoke as it exploded into a fireball on the street; another had its wing sheared off, spinning as it crashed into a nearby half-collapsed building, a second explosion sending shattered marble panels flying from the windows.

The fixed turrets of the anti-aircraft array simultaneously joined the interception. Blue-white beams of laser cannons shot from the edges of the dome cracks, from the tops of the half-collapsed towers, and from the reinforced fortifications amidst the ruins, drawing streaks of blazing white light across the sky. One P-class fighter jet had its cockpit pierced by a laser and exploded from the inside; another's wing was severed at the root, and it spun as it crashed into the steel dome of the central nest, the explosion illuminating half a street.

The orcs bursting from the assault pods were torn apart on the ground by the Stormtroopers' crossfire. More assault pods were being loaded onto rails, ready for the next wave of deliveries. But the anti-aircraft array's firepower was far greater than the orcs had anticipated; the repaired Imperial weapons, calibrated by the Tech-Priests, were far more accurate and had a much higher rate of fire than the orcs' crudely made anti-aircraft guns.

The green train's dive angle is getting steeper and steeper, the delivery window is getting narrower and narrower, and the loss rate is rising sharply.

The anti-aircraft fire overhead never ceased. Hydra's cannons spun continuously amidst the ruins, the roars of the four barrels overlapping into a persistent low-frequency boom, the barrage weaving a moving net of fire in the low sky. Laser cannons in fixed anti-aircraft arrays fired downwards from their high points, their blue-white beams weaving through the swarm of Pseudo-Smith fighters.

One of the hit fighter jets tumbled and crashed to the ground, trailing thick smoke, exploding into a fireball on the street; another emerged from the smoke, but before it could pull up, it was torn apart by Hydra's barrage of bullets. The fragments struck the aura of the Void Shield, exploding into clouds of dark purple smoke.

After the Storm Assault Team breached the elevator hub, the giant elevator platform operated day and night, sending up batches of Rellano's combat groups, knight mechs, and Titans.

The focus of the battle was on a block at the end of the main corridor. It was the throat leading to the depths of the Upper Nest, flanked by several half-collapsed noble mansions and a bombed-out administrative building. Grom had blocked this spot with his most elite warbands, sealing the ground floor doorways with welded-on armor plates, leaving only the upper-floor windows and collapsed rooftops as firing positions.

As the Stormtroopers stepped off the elevator, Rellano's battle group followed closely behind, deploying from the flanks. The Stormtroopers charged the orcish lines head-on, their bomb guns exploding in orange-red streaks in the darkness; Rellano's battle group weaved through the shadows of the ruins, the low hum of chainswords mingling with the roar of bomb guns.

The main corridor was wide enough for a Warlord-level Titan to walk side by side, with rows of building entrances on either side. Orc lads poured out from behind the pillars, from the doorways, and from the collapsed ruins, mowing down the Stormstrike Forces in the front ranks. The orcs filled the gaps with corpses. As those in front fell, those behind trampled over them, until they reached the defensive line, where the corpses had formed a low wall, and then the greenskins climbed over them.

Green blood pooled on the marble shards, forming dark green puddles that were sticky and slippery to the touch. Explosive shell casings bounced and rolled on the marble shards, only to be crushed by those behind them.

Kara led Stormtrooper Team One to cover behind a broken terracotta column. The marble cladding of the column had long since crumbled, revealing a charred steel frame underneath, from which hung half-melted decorative moldings. The HUD on their masks displayed the location of each teammate in the vicinity.

The barrel of the bomb gun rested against a gap in the steel frame. Through the scope, the head of an orc boy had just peeked out of a window in the opposite building. She pulled the trigger, firing two shots in quick succession. The head exploded like a watermelon. Green blood splattered onto the shattered marble slab beside her, trickling down the cracks and gleaming a dark green in the flash of the gunfire.

"Team One, right-hand building, third floor, window, heavy weapons." The scout's voice came through the communication channel, hoarse and panting from running.

"Roger that." Kara didn't turn around. "Second team, suppress the window. Third team, flank in from the left and clear the third floor."

The Stormtroopers' coordination had become ingrained in their bones after months of training. The second team's heavy explosives detonated on the building's exterior wall, shrapnel shearing off the marble cladding around the window frames, revealing the underlying terrazzo frame. The third team slipped inside through a side door, their explosives detonating in the stairwell, the echoes carrying from the first floor to the top. Soon after, the gunfire ceased in the building.

But the pressure from the front did not lessen. Grom's roar exploded from the direction of the governor's mansion, causing shattered marble cladding to fall from the building's exterior walls.

"WAAAGH!!! The tin men from Shrimp's here!!! Smash them!!!"

The orc lads were increasing in number. They poured out of every building on either side of the main corridor, leaping down from blasted doorways, shattered windows, and fire escape ladders on the exterior walls. Bullets from rifles crisscrossed between the pillars, and laser beams shot from windows on the upper floors, exploding across the Stormtroopers' lines. Some fell, and others took their place.

Kara glanced at the fallen figure while changing magazines—an old soldier who had come from Garros, what was his last name again? She couldn't remember. His breastplate was pierced, a charred hole in the adamantite armor, the edges still smoking.

He didn't move. Kara slammed the new magazine in and reset the bolt. There was no time to think, nor should there be. Thinking too much would make his hands tremble.

The Hydra fighters swooped down overhead. Two, one after the other, attempted to straf the Storm Commando's position with their machine guns. Hydra and anti-aircraft artillery pursued them, their barrage exploding into clouds of black smoke at low altitude. The first plane's wing was hit by a laser cannon, and it spun and crashed into the ruins of a nearby building; the second emerged from the smoke, but before it could find its target, it was torn apart by Hydra's barrage.

Rellano's battle group emerged from the ruins on the flank, chainswords cleaving through an elite orc trying to flank, while bursts of explosive rifle fire suppressed the enemy's firing positions on the upper floors of the buildings. The two forces provided cover for each other, with the Stormtroopers drawing fire from the front while Rellano's battle group tore open a gap in the flank.

On the flank of this block, a platoon of the Steel Legion was deployed into the defensive line. These Invernus locals, clad in armor salvaged from the ruins and clutching laser guns, crouched behind shattered marble slabs. Some of them were trembling.

They've lived in this city for most of their lives, and seeing it turn out like this fills them with a heavy heart.

An old soldier leaned against a broken terracotta pillar, changing a magazine. A newly healed scar was visible on his chest; shrapnel had cut into him just below his collarbone, less than a finger's width from his heart. A new recruit next to him stared at the scar, his hands trembling.

"What are you looking at?" The veteran slammed the magazine back in.

"I heard—they won't die."

The veteran scoffed and fastened his breastplate. "I spent some time in the medical station. When I woke up, my wounds were gone. They said the Emperor's messenger came. Believe it or not, I'm alive."

The recruits' hands stopped trembling. News traveled faster across the lines than orders could be given. No one shouted any grand names, but everyone knew who they were. That scar—the one from the veteran who survived the medical station—was the proof.

The battle unfolded house by house in the city. Kara's Stormtroopers held the city at bay from the front, while Rellano's battle groups flanked the ruins from the flanks.

A Stormtrooper climbed the fire ladder to the third floor, vaulted through a broken window, and came face-to-face with two green-skinned thugs in the hallway. He ducked to avoid the first burst of gunfire, then pressed a grenade launcher against the jaw of the second thug and fired. Green blood splattered onto the ceiling. His teammates burst in from the next room, clearing the entire floor with crossfire.

On the ground floor of the same building, a veteran of Relano's men used a chainsaw sword to cleave open the welded door panel and led his assault team to clear the area from the basement upwards, where they met up with the Storm Commandos in the stairwell.

Armored units poured into the block from the auxiliary passageways. The tracks of the Leman Rustank crushed the shattered marble, its turrets spun, and high-explosive shells detonated on the ground floor of the orc-held buildings. Chimera armored vehicles followed closely behind, their onboard explosive guns suppressing firing ports on higher floors, spent casings bouncing off the roof.

The Knight mechs advanced from a greater distance, the Ranger type weaving rapidly through the ruins, their molten cannons turning the orc heavy firepower point on the top floor of the administrative building at the street corner into a mass of slag; the Paladin type's chainsaw swords hummed as they cut into the flanks, its shoulder-mounted bomb turrets continuously firing; the Priest type deployed in the rear, the missile pods' launch covers popping open, rockets trailing white smoke as they hurtled towards the orc positions deep within the city.

The air in the corridor began to vibrate. It was footsteps.

The Warhound-class Titan emerged from the shadows of the buildings on either side. It crashed through the exterior wall of a half-collapsed building at the street corner, rubble still swirling in the air, its plasma cannon already locked onto the orc firing position on the opposite high-rise. A burst of blazing white plasma exploded, marble slabs shattered, and the green-skinned boy's corpse fell from the window. The Warhound's paws were wider than the doorway; it couldn't enter, nor did it need to. It stood on the street, prying the green-skinned boy out of every window, every crack.

Another machine emerged from behind it, the two crossed, and the barrage from the Vulcan's massive explosive cannon tore the orc infantry trying to rush out to shreds. More steel hounds surged from the direction of the elevator platform, spreading out on both sides of the corridor, clearing away the orcs' heavy weapons from every gap.

The Stormtroopers and the Rellano combat groups advanced in coordination on both sides of the Titan leg armor, their figures in gray-white and dark gray power armor intertwining as they surged into the depths of the city along the passage cleared by the Titans.

A deeper tremor came from the depths of the block. The warrior-class figure stepped onto the ground.

A steel behemoth over forty meters tall loomed overhead, its massive cannons rotating calmly in the main corridor. The cannons were pointed at the governor's mansion, Grom's command post. Fire! The volcanic cannons roared simultaneously, the air in the entire block seemed to be sucked away for a moment, and then the shockwave hurled rubble and green-skinned corpses into the air.

A third of the governor's mansion's facade had already been destroyed by the railgun bombardment, and now the remaining arcades were being blasted open by the shelling. Shattered marble pillars and green-skinned corpses were pushed backward by the shockwave, tumbling against the walls of the governor's mansion and exploding into a dark green mist of blood.

The giant feet of warriors pounded the shattered marble floor, each step causing marble panels on the building's exterior to flutter and fall. Columns receded on either side of their leg armor, and shattered stained-glass windows cast fragmented shadows behind them. They could only squeeze through the cramped passageways of the middle nest, but on the grand avenues of the upper nest, they marched in procession—this was their battlefield.

The green-skinned soldiers began to retreat, behind the next colonnade, into the building, using the shattered marble cladding and collapsed steel frame to reorganize their defenses. Grom's roar exploded again from the direction of the governor's mansion, WAAAGH! The force field reformed after the impact, forcefully suppressing the shattered will.

The Emperor-class Titan "Burning Fury" emerged from the final reinforced berth on the elevator platform, casting a heavy shadow over the nearly 100-meter-high steel cathedral in the main corridor.

On the ground floor of a half-collapsed building on the edge of the block, an Invernus militiaman crouched against a broken support pillar. He had just come back from a clearing operation and was catching his breath; his armor was still stained with green blood, and the barrel of his laser gun was so hot it could roast meat. As the artillery roared outside, he gripped the butt of his rifle tightly, his knuckles turning white.

Then he heard footsteps. They came from underground, from the depths of the rock, from the very foundation of the entire hive. The sound was so deep, so heavy, that he mistook it for his own heartbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump. Each beat spaced several seconds apart. He clutched his chest, confirming his heart was still beating. It was the footsteps of the Titans. The Emperor's steel giants were descending.

He pressed his forehead against the gun barrel, his lips moving silently as he uttered a prayer. Then he stood up, checked the magazine, and walked toward the direction from which the gunfire was most intense.

The colossal foot of an Emperor-class Titan stomped on the shattered marble floor, the first step sending ripples through the entire main corridor. With the second step, it crushed an abandoned orc battle fortress, its armor plates curling, tearing, and flattening like paper beneath its adamantite foot. The cathedral's bell tower tolled from its shoulder armor, its deep, resonant notes echoing through the ruins like a sound from the Great Crusade ten thousand years ago. The volcanic cannon barrels were a full size thicker than those of a Warlord-class Titan, their dark red glow illuminating the entire corridor, the muzzles pointing towards the remaining main entrance of the Governor's Mansion.

The third step: the volcano cannons fired. A beam of blazing white plasma pierced the orcish positions at the main gate of the governor's mansion. The remaining pillars were melted by the intense heat, the relief wall on the front of the mansion shattered, and the statues of the emperor and angels crumbled into stone, flickering for a moment in the plasma light. The marble floor cracked, the fissures extending in all directions from the point of impact, all the way to the edge of the plaza.

The orcish defenses at the end of the main corridor collapsed completely at that moment. The green-skinned boys peeked out from behind the pillars, seeing the hundred-meter-tall steel cathedral approaching, its volcanic craters still smoking, its massive feet about to crush them. Some green-skinned boys dropped their rifles and turned to run, only to be struck down by the butts of rifles by the orcs behind them. But the breach had already been created.

The Warlord-class Titans advanced from the flanks of the Emperor-class, their volcanic cannons and massive artillery firing alternately, wiping out the retreating orcs layer by layer from the corridors. Warhound-class tanks weaved through the gaps between buildings, mowing down the scattered greenskins. Knight mechs cut in from the flanks, their molten cannons igniting the bunkers inside the buildings one by one, their chainswords slicing through the ruins to cut down the last resistance. Armored units pressed forward along the auxiliary passageways, Lemanrus's cannons firing almost level with the orc lines.

The Stormtroopers surged through the shadows of the Titan's leg armor, their slug guns precisely reaping every remaining orc from the ruins. Rellano's battle group followed closely behind, their chainswords picking off any stragglers in the narrow passages. The two forces, one in front and one behind, cleared the rout of the Greenskins layer by layer from the ruins.

Rows of stretcher-bearers moved through the ruins of Upper Nest, transporting the wounded along the cleared passages to the medical station in Middle Nest.

The people lying on the stretchers were wearing different colored armor, including gray-white power armor, dark gray shell armor, and even militiamen who hadn't had time to change out of their work pants.

On a stretcher, a militiaman lay on his side, his left leg severed below the knee, the cut haphazardly patched with emergency hemostatic agent. A plastic identification tag was pinned to the left breast pocket of his overalls, bearing the words "Invernus Factory No. 37," with a plain local name in the name field. His eyes were closed, his lips moving, whether reciting a prayer or calling someone's name was unclear.

On another stretcher lay a soldier from the Garros Legion, his helmet gone, his face covered in blood, but the gear and skull insignia on his chest still remained. Two people from different worlds lay side by side in the same stretcher line, silently pushed by sergeants through rubble and smoke, moving towards the medical station.

The anti-aircraft fire overhead never ceased. Hydra's cannons spun continuously amidst the ruins, the roars of the four barrels overlapping into a persistent low-frequency boom, the barrage weaving a moving net of fire in the low sky. Laser cannons in fixed anti-aircraft arrays fired downwards from their high points, their blue-white beams weaving through the swarm of Pseudo-Smith fighters.

One of the hit fighter jets tumbled and crashed to the ground, trailing thick smoke, exploding into a fireball on the street; another emerged from the smoke, but before it could pull up, it was torn apart by Hydra's barrage of bullets. The fragments struck the aura of the Void Shield, exploding into clouds of dark purple smoke.

The main corridor's defenses, crushed by the Titans, were no longer a line of defense, but a bloody path carved out by their giant feet. Yet, the greens remained within the complex. They fired from windows, threw grenades from doorways, and charged out from basements.

The soldiers of the Steel Legion cleared out buildings one by one, crawling in through blasted openings, climbing fire ladders, and sneaking into ventilation ducts. Every floor had to be cleared, every room searched. The Storm Assault Team and the Rellano combat groups took turns attacking and providing cover, their gray-white and dark gray power armor constantly crossing, separating, and crossing again amidst the ruins, like a precisely operating meat grinder.

The clearing of Upper Nest wouldn't be completed in a few days, but Grom's defenses had been breached. The gray-white figures of the battle group were advancing towards the Governor's Mansion. Void shields were operating overhead, Hydra's cannons were still spinning, anti-aircraft laser cannons were still firing alternately, and the wreckage of the Pseudo-Spirit fighters was burning amidst the ruins.

The Emperor-class Titan took its fourth step. As its massive foot landed, the rubble of the entire main corridor trembled.

The battle continues. But the empire's advance has not ceased.

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