Warhammer: Striving to Be a Grinding Man

Chapter 131 Judgment of Fury

At the end of the main corridor of Upper Nest, the plaza in front of the Governor's Mansion unfolds in the low-angle light of the stars. This was once the most open space in Upper Nest—a place where nobles held military parades and celebrations, with the ground paved with solid marble slabs and imperial statues cast in fine gold standing at the four corners. Now, only craters, rubble, and fragments of half-melted armor plates remain.

The largest imperial statue, a landmark of the square and tens of meters high, was completely demolished. It lay face down below the steps in front of the governor's mansion, its crown embedded in the shattered marble, its terracotta frame exposed beneath peeling gold plates, the gray-black metal twisted and deformed, fragments of gold scattered around. Orcs had welded a crude throne onto its twisted back, the welds on the armored panels jagged, the rivets exposed.

Grom sat on that throne.

It towered above any orc warlord, not with mechanical prowess, but with flesh and blood forged from countless battles. Its left arm was a massive chainsaw claw welded with serrated edges, its hydraulic pushers thicker than a mortal's arm; its right arm's power gauntlet was fitted with explosive barrels, and its adamantite knuckles were engraved with crooked low-gothic graffiti: "Shrimp," "Iron Man," "Skull Crush," "Eat." Its most striking feature was its iron jaw—the entire lower jaw replaced by a rusty armor plate, riveted with anti-slip teeth salvaged from an Imperial tank. When the techmaster replaced its jaw, it took three days and three nights of welding, wearing out seven welding torches in the process.

Grom rose from his throne, the armor plates on the back of the chair creaking under his weight. His roar exploded from the far end of the square, sending rubble flying from the cracks in the dome and making the remaining terracotta frame of the governor's mansion hum.

"WAAAGH!!! That tin man from Shrimp finally came up to me!!! Good!!! Good!!! Good!!!"

It leaped abruptly from its throne, its heavy adamantite power gauntlets slamming into the back of the fallen imperial statue, creating a dent and shattering the terracotta frame. Chainsaw claws spun erratically at its sides, their serrated teeth whistling, the rapidly rotating blades drawing a dark red glow in the dim light.

The ruins on the north side of the square suddenly exploded.

Marble shards rained down as a nearly 6,000-meter-tall steel behemoth rose from the rubble, its rusted armor plating welded with weapons looted from the Imperial armory, including two battle cannons salvaged from Imperial armored vehicles.

Four heavy-explosive machine guns, and a twin-barreled thermobaric cannon stolen from a Titan on each shoulder armor. A crudely made force field generator was welded to the back of the torso, crackling blue-white arcs of electricity dancing on the surface of the machine, forming an unstable energy barrier that deflected falling debris. This was the ancient colossus that the Orc Techies had assembled in just a few days; every weld reeked of madness, and every pipe was leaking steam. It was named "Skullcrusher."

The cockpit canopy of Leo Ku was flung open, and an orc techmaster wearing a welder's mask poked his head out, letting out a piercing laugh: "Boss Grom! My Skullcutter has been waiting for ages!!!"

Grom turned around, the rusty red light on his iron chin flickering even more violently: "Fine!!! Let these shrimps see what power is!!!"

The firefight on the flanks of the plaza reached its climax. Kara led the Stormtroopers, cutting in from the collapsed side corridors, their explosive bursts picking off the elite orcs attempting to emerge from the lower-level doorways. Iron Legion soldiers weaved through the ruins, using laser guns and grenades to block the auxiliary passageways on both sides of the plaza. Lars crouched behind a broken pillar, the servo motor in his power armor's left leg joint humming softly, spent shell casings piling up at his feet. Coleman and his men, positioned on higher ground in the ruins further away, maintained heavy weaponry, continuously suppressing orc fire on the governor's mansion's flanks.

But Grom didn't look at them. Its gaze was fixed on the nearly 100-meter-tall steel cathedral slowly advancing into the depths of the main corridor at the end of the square. The Emperor-class Titan "Burning Fury's" massive foot pounded on the shattered marble floor, each step sending shards of stone flying. Its volcanic cannon barrel was a full circle thicker than that of a Warlord-class Titan, the dark red glow of its cooling grates illuminating the entire corridor, its muzzles locked onto the square. The hum of its energy coils made the teeth of those standing at its feet ache.

The cathedral's bell tower chimed from its shoulder armor, the deep, resonant sound echoing through the ruins like a murmur from the Great Expedition ten thousand years ago.

The cockpit of the Emperor-class Titan is embedded forty meters behind the breastplate, beneath which lies a command sanctuary.

Sebastian Torres sat in the center pilot's seat, his hands gripping the control stick, the data cable at the back of his head connected to the Titan's neural interface array. His pupils dilated in the darkness, the will of the machine spirit surging into his consciousness—

It was data, it was pulse, it was feeling: an immeasurable loneliness, the pain of warp corrosion, the sorrow of previous pilots' parched flesh, and the light that suddenly shone through the storm. Torres' eyes were bloodshot, blood trickling from his nose onto his pilot suit. He didn't let go.

To the lower left of the driver's seat, coordinator Roca sat at the angled control panel, his prosthetic eye fixed on the attitude data displayed on three screens. His hands moved rapidly between thousands of knobs and levers, chanting binary correction codes: "Left leg stride correction 0.3 degrees. Right knee joint damping increased by 5%. Stable posture."

Below the pilot's seat on the right, weapons coordinator Ella Tanner crouched in her battle station. Her fingers danced across the energy distribution panel: "Void Shield reduced to 30%. Defensive laser offline. Reactor at full power to Volcano Cannon. Recharge sequence ready."

Behind the three, Tech Priest Essen leaned against the bulkhead, six mechanical arms extending from beneath his robes and connecting to data interfaces on the bulkhead. His optical lens focused on the back of Torres' head: "Neural connection stability 87%. Machine spirit emotional threshold nearing critical. Pilot, your heart rate is too high. Breathing rate needs to be reduced."

Torres did not answer. His entire attention was focused on the voice coming from the communication channel.

"Burning Fury, this is Stormstrike Force. Target confirmed: Grom and an Orcish Giganotosaurus. Coordinates marked." Kara's voice was hoarse, panting from running. She leaned halfway out of the ruins, aiming her laser marker at Grom's location. An invisible infrared beam shot out, landing on Grom's breastplate.

Inside the cockpit, two crimson runes exploded in Toris's vision. The Machine Spirit had locked onto those two marks.

"Dual target lock." Torres tightened his grip on the joystick, his thumb pressing the fire safety.

Ayra's finger flicked across the energy allocation panel: "Void Shield reduced to 30%. Defensive laser offline. Reactor at full power for the Volcano Cannon. Recharging initiated."

The hum of the energy coils instantly pierced through the armor plating, making Toris's teeth ache. Loca's mechanical eye scanned the attitude screen: "Legion mechanism on standby. Stabilization platform locked. Muzzle pointing fixed."

The temperature of the heat dissipation grille jumped from the standby value to the critical line, and the dark red halo turned into an incandescent white. The confinement field at the mouth of the volcano cannon began to condense, and the air in front of the muzzle ionized, exploding into tiny blue arcs of electricity.

Gujuji's combat cannon fired. Two orange-yellow high-explosive shells shot towards the Emperor-class Titan's chest armor, leaving trails in their wake. The Void Shield of "Burning Fury" activated instantly, the shells exploding into two orange-red fireballs on the shield's surface, but the shield remained unmoved. At the same time, Gujuji's force field shield operated at full power amidst flashing arcs of electricity, a blue-white energy membrane covering most of its body.

Essen's robotic arm bounced against the bulkhead: "Neural connectivity stability is 91 percent. Machine spirit emotional threshold is stable."

"Driver, your breathing is still too fast. Your Majesty, can you hear me?"

Torris did not answer. In the neural link, the roar of the machine spirit gradually subsided, as if it had finally been relieved of a burden that had lasted for millennia.

He heard the word: trial.

"Fire."

Ella pressed the energy release button: "Volcano Cannon, fire."

The roar of the volcano cannon tore through the air. A beam of blazing white plasma, as thick as a well, shot from the muzzle and lasted for nearly three seconds.

The beam first struck the Gujuki's force field shield—a blue-white energy membrane flickered violently under the scorching plasma torrent, arcs exploding into blinding flashes of light. The shield lasted less than half a second before bursting like a soap bubble. The beam pierced through the shield and slammed into the Gujuki's chest armor, instantly melting the armor plates, sending molten metal fragments flying through the beam. The Gujuki's combat cannon went silent, and the machine emitted a piercing shriek as metal tore through the air.

The beam pierced through the ancient colossus, continuing its advance and striking the fallen Imperial Statue. The statue's adamantine outer shell vaporized in the plasma beam, its terracotta frame melted, and fragments flew everywhere. Grom, standing atop the statue's back, was swept by the edge of the beam; the chainsaw claw on his left shoulder instantly vaporized. He roared in fury, slamming his right power gauntlet towards the beam, but the plasma torrent instantly engulfed it.

The part above the iron chin vaporized instantly, while the torso and powered gauntlets below the iron chin were peeled away layer by layer in the plasma torrent, the muscles carbonized, and the bones shattered. In less than two seconds, only an expanding cloud of plasma and a semi-circular vitrified crater remained at its location.

The last trace of Grom's existence in this world was erased at this moment.

WAAAGH! The force field, like a snapped string, exploded in the warp, creating a silent ripple. The roar above Invernus vanished from the psionic network.

The square fell silent.

Inside the cockpit, Ayra lifted her finger from the energy release button: "Volcanic cannon energy zero. Reactor output restored to normal. Void Shield charging."

Loca's prosthetic eye swept across the posture screen: "Legacy mechanism restored to normal. Stable platform unlocked."

Essen's robotic arm retracted from the data interface, and the optical lens flashed red: "Neural connection stability 78%. Machine Soul status—abnormally stable. Machine Soul is pleased, praising Ohm Messiah."

Torres released the control stick and leaned back in his seat. Blood was still flowing from his nose, dripping onto the front of his pilot's suit. He didn't wipe it away. In the neural connection, the roar of the machine spirit had subsided, replaced by a weary, satisfied whisper.

"Target eliminated," Torres said into the communication channel, his voice hoarse.

Kara's voice came through the channel: "Target eliminated. Grom is dead. All core nodes have been captured. The area around the Governor's Mansion is being cleared."

Ella turned away from the control panel, glanced at Toris, and pulled a bandage from the first-aid kit on the side of the seat, handing it to him. Toris took it, pressed it to the bridge of his nose, and said nothing.

Loca stood up from the pilot's seat, walked to the bulkhead, placed his hand on the data interface, and read the last pulse of the machine's soul with his eyes closed: "It's saying—mission complete." He opened his eyes and returned to his seat.

Essen retracted the robotic arm and leaned back against the bulkhead: "The machine soul is entering hibernation. Recalibration will be required for the next awakening. Pilot, you need to undergo a neurological examination within 24 hours."

Torres tossed the hemostatic dressing into the recycling bin: "Got it."

The assault craft above Invernus stopped launching. The Pseudo-Soldier fighters emerging from the gaps in the orbital wreckage began to change direction, no longer diving downwards. Orbital delivery to Grom ceased.

Deeper into orbit, the turrets of the derelict spaceship "Bonebreaker" were still firing—not in defeat, but in retreat.

Its thrusters spewed dark red flames as the ship slowly turned, maneuvering into deep space. The ground landing had failed; further troop deployment was pointless. The techmasters pounded away at the control panels, using welding torches and wrenches to maintain engine output. The wrecked ship left a faint trail of light in the starry sky, exiting Invernus's near-Earth orbit.

The Emperor-class Titan's volcanic cannon cooling vents were still emitting white steam, and the air around the muzzle was swirling. Only the hum of the cooling pumps and the breathing of the four men remained in the cockpit.

The cannon fire gradually subsided. The gunfire around the governor's mansion changed from dense volleys of explosive shells to sporadic bursts, then to confirmation shots. The soldiers of the Steel Legion were still clearing the building floor by floor, the muffled thuds of explosive guns coming from within the walls, muffled by the terracotta frame and marble panels.

Cohen stood before the sand table. The dark red markers on the upper hive gradually turned blue. Kara's Stormtroopers reorganized between the nodes. The Imperial Titan's signal slowly moved backward from the center of the plaza—it was making way for follow-up forces.

Cole walked over from the entrance of the command post, holding a data panel in his hand.

"Governor. Mission report from the Silver Robe Order. Sister Valeria confirms that Governor von Kirska of Invernus has been executed. Cross-verification of the Inquisition's encrypted files has been completed, confirming him as a follower of the Tzeentch. The announcement has been forwarded to all operational units by the Garros Command."

Cohen took the data panel and glanced at it. The formatted text was coldly worded, ending with the Silver Shroud Order's verification mark. He handed the panel back to Cole without asking for details. The traitor's name was on the notice, but the face remained in the palace in the upper echelon—one of the tallest buildings in the Upper Nest that hadn't been completely destroyed by the orbital bombardment. Its terracotta frame still stood, its marble panels mostly shattered, revealing the charred steel frame and empty windows, its outline still clearly discernible in the low-angle starlight.

"understood."

Cohen withdrew his gaze and landed on the wasteland surrounding Invernus on the sand table. Reinforcements from the Fire Wasteland and the Equatorial Jungle were still on their way. Grom was dead, but the Greenskins wouldn't stop just because Grom was dead. They would simply find a new leader and continue their charge. The arrows of reinforcements extended from the northwest and southwest of the sand table.

Cohen paused for a few seconds, then turned and walked out of the command post towards the medical station. As he crossed the plaza, he saw soldiers clearing the ruins of the ancient colossus; fragments of the imperial statue were carefully collected and piled on one side of the steps. At the edge of the plaza, militiamen cheered, brandishing laser guns; someone threw a helmet into the air, only to be immediately stopped by an officer—a remnant of the orcish horde was still inside the building. Suddenly, the cathedral bells rang out, their sound mingling with the chimes of the Titan bell tower, penetrating the smoke and reaching the ears of every survivor.

The sound of boots crunching on the cracked marble floor was swallowed by the muffled thuds coming from a distant building. It was the Steel Legion's soldiers clearing out the last floor; the gunfire was continuous and fading into the distance.