Warhammer: Striving to Be a Grinding Man

Resolution 141

The observation platform at the top of Invernus was the highest point in the entire hive. Cohen stood there. Behind him stood Cole and several staff officers; the screens of the data panels gleamed coldly in the dim light, and no one spoke.

He looked down at the north.

That was the real sea. A greyish-green sea, stretching from one end of the horizon to the other, without gaps, without boundaries, only surging, slowly creeping, ever-advancing dark green tides. Orcish infantry ranks formed undulating waves in the dust, battle fortresses like iron shells floating on the water, the outlines of ancient colossi revealing their steel spines in the waves. That sea was alive; it breathed, and each exhale meant another line of defense was torn open, swallowed, and submerged.

The depth of the Invernus defensive line is shrinking day by day, and the defenders have less and less room to maneuver.

Cole stood behind Cohen, the numbers on the data panel still ticking. "The orc numbers on the northern front are still increasing. Yesterday they launched three probing attacks, and today it's become a sustained assault. They're wearing down our last reserves."

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Cohen did not speak.

A communications soldier strode in from the platform entrance, holding a data tablet to his chest. "Governor, the theater command's encrypted interstellar signal—highest priority. Archeron reports: the main force of the Space Dwarf fleet has completed its interstellar jump and arrived at the Armageddon theater."

Cohen took the data panel. The decoded text on the screen was brief.

Phidias Falconet Horst persuaded Lord Brock Anvil of Squirt to send troops at Gorgosa. The main dwarven fleet consisted of over two hundred warships, dozens of heavy transport ships, and nearly half a million dwarven warriors clad in finely crafted armor.

The entire battle line on the main continent trembled as Leviathan's tracks rolled over the orcs' armored positions.

The report ended with Dante's signature and a single sentence confirming it: "Acheron has launched a counterattack."

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Cohen handed the data tablet back to the communications officer. "Notify all units."

He turned and walked down the steps from the top of the tower toward the command post. As expected, he immediately received a meeting invitation from the theater command—all the Imperial command nodes still in operation in the Armageddon theater were connected.

The meeting was held in the tactical hall of the flagship Blood Angels, the "Blade of Vengeance," with encrypted signals transmitted to the combat zone via a laser communication array. Dozens of holographic display windows lit up in the circular dome of the tactical hall, with each frame being transmitted synchronously.

Cohen stood in front of the sand table at the command post of the Middle Nest Cathedral, his image being projected into the conference system by a holographic projector.

He scanned the holographic windows.

Dante stood at the very center. The holographic image of the Blood Angels Chapter Commander was so clear it was as if he were a real person standing in the tactical hall, his face as cold and stern as if sculpted from fine gold, his long, deep golden hair motionless in the windless virtual space. It was the face of the Son of Saint Gilles, a face that was sung as a legend in every sector of the Imperium of Man.

Tushan was to his left, while the Salamanders commander, clad in terracotta armor, sat silently at the tactical table.

Calga crossed his arms on his right side, his eyes, which had seen countless battles, lingered on Cohen for a moment before looking away.

Horst stood at the edge. The holographic image of the Black Inquisitor had no seat, no background; only a crimson figure hovered in the side of the tactical hall. His position indicated his identity: an observer, a participant, but not a decision-maker.

The old scar on his left cheek was still clearly visible in the projected light, and his gray eyes remained fixed on Cohen's direction.

Commissar Arreek is in the lower left corner. Von Hoffmann is next to Admiral Parol. The image of the commander of the Lucis Field Fleet is as composed as ever. Admiral Parol sits beside him, looking older than when they last met, with deeper-set eyes and a shrapnel scar running diagonally from his left eyebrow to his temporal bone.

And there were even more windows—captains of the Imperial Navy's various fleets, commanders of the Astral Army's various legions, sages of the Mechanicus—a dense array of images filled every inch of the circular dome.

Dante spoke.

"The situation in Acheron has stabilized. The main orc offensive on the main continent has been thwarted. The theater command believes that the strategic focus needs to shift, and Invernus is now of paramount importance."

He brought up the tactical projection. The star map of Amighiddton unfolded in mid-air, with the mark of Invernus at the deepest point, surrounded by a dense array of dark red dots.

"Invernus has tied down the main force of the subcontinent's orcs for over a month. If Invernus collapses at this point, the entire subcontinent will experience a chain reaction."

His gaze swept across all the windows.

"We can now allocate troops to the Acheron direction. The problem lies in how to get them into Invernus. The Orcish fleet has completely locked down Invernus's near-Earth orbit, including two heavyweight space wrecks."

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Admiral Parrol spoke up: "The Armageddon fleet is less than 30% operational. All the orbits of the hive cities require ship patrols. I am doing everything I can to gather any ships that are still operational, and all that can be deployed can be assembled towards Invernus."

Von Hoffmann chimed in: "The Lucis Combined Fleet is fine. The Garros Fleet is currently under my command, so that's no problem either."

Horst's voice cut in from the flank: "The dwarven fleet cannot be entirely transferred to Invernus. Lord Brok Anvil is willing to contribute about sixty ships. Add to that the forces that the Armageddon fleet can spare, the Lucis combined fleet, and the fleet strength of three chapters—but the size of this combined fleet is still insufficient to directly defeat the orc orbital fleet with its two derelict spaceships."

Dante lifted his gaze from the star map and turned towards Admiral von Hoffmann and Parol. "The wrecked spaceships are the biggest problem right now. I need a plan to destroy two of them. Do you have one?"

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Von Hoffmann was silent for a moment. The aperture of his mechanical eye slowly expanded and contracted, his fingers pressed against the edge of the tactical table, his knuckles turning slightly white. Then he spoke, his voice a notch lower than usual: "No. The thickness and volume of the wrecked ship's armor mean that the macro cannons and light spears would need sustained, concentrated bombardment to tear through the armor layers. But the orc fleet won't give us that time—the wrecked ship's crossfire and the escort fleet's counterattack will intercept us before we even enter effective firing range."

Admiral Heart Parrol's mechanical eye aperture shrank to its smallest size, his voice hoarse: "Conventional methods cannot eliminate the wrecked ship at an acceptable cost. If we launch a direct assault, the estimated losses of the flanking attack formation are over 50%, and even then, a hit cannot be guaranteed."

There was a moment of silence in the tactical hall.

"We need weapons capable of destroying the wrecked ship in one hit," Commissar Arek finally spoke. "The macro cannons and light spears would need sustained bombardment to penetrate the wrecked ship's armor. It has a diameter of tens of kilometers, and the orc fleet won't give us enough time." He paused, then turned to Horst. "Your Inquisition should step in. My suggestion is to drop your whirlwind torpedoes onto the wrecked ship."

There was a moment of silence in the tactical hall.

"No," Horst replied. "There are only a handful of these weapons in the entire sector, and it's impossible for them to be found in all of Armageddon's existing reserves. Even if we bring them in from outside, the warp storm, though weakened, hasn't dissipated."

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As a high-ranking official of the Inquisition, Horst rejected the possibility. Everyone present knew that support for Invernus was still limited at this stage; the only option was to wait for an advance from the Acheron front towards Invernus, forcing the orcs to divert their forces to intercept the reinforcements. This method was prudent, but it would take time. All eyes turned to the sage Cohen, for the crucial question was whether he could hold out.

However, Cohen spoke before all the light turned to him. His voice was slightly hoarse than usual, but his words were clear.

"The Fireseed has Cyclone torpedoes. Bipolar type, Extinction Order class."

All the windows fell silent at the same moment. The faces in the holograms all turned toward him.

"The legacy left behind by the Proxima Forge. The Fireseed's arsenal contains three Cyclone Torpedoes. They are in excellent condition. When the Fireseed returned from its warp voyage, these weapons were sealed in the Ark's deep armory. The Great Sage Enpu confirmed their condition. Each one is powerful enough to completely tear apart a spaceship with a diameter of tens of kilometers."

He paused for a moment, then added meaningfully.

"This is the entire inventory that the Pronoris Forged World sealed away before its destruction. Before its demise, Pronoris sealed away these weapons as the final means for its world. Every single one is legal and compliant."

Commissar Arreek's prosthetic eye zoomed out to its limit, his prosthetic right hand rubbed tightly against the edge of the table, and the hydraulic lines in his knuckles emitted a faint overload hum. He stared at Cohen, his lips moved slightly, but he ultimately remained silent.

Horst's pupils contracted sharply, the most instinctive reaction of an inquisitor when faced with the word "extermination order".

His right hand emerged from beneath his robe, resting on the edge of the tactical table, his knuckles white with tension. Gray eyes were fixed on Cohen, as if trying to rip his soul from the hologram. Three complete, intact, and launchable Cyclone torpedoes—

This is a strategic weapons stockpile of this magnitude. It seems the tribunal's assessment of Gallo's case needs a complete rewrite.

Von Hoffmann's voice rang out first: "Bipolar Cyclone Torpedo - Sage Cohen, you mean the Fireseed has three Extinction Order-class weapons?"

'

"Yes."

"This is a planetary extinction weapon," Admiral Parrol's voice followed. "Are you sure you can use it on a space wreck?"

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"A space wreck's structure is far more fragile than a planet's," Cohen said calmly. "A wreck is an aggregate of countless fragments, with the joints being the weakest points. A single Cyclone torpedo detonating at an internal structural joint is enough to tear the entire wreck apart from the inside. Two wrecks, two torpedoes. The remaining one will be kept in reserve."

Dante's posture changed. His slightly forward-leaning body leaned back in his chair. His dark golden eyes stared at Cohen for a long time. The Blood Angels Chapter Leader's right fingertips tapped silently twice on the armrest—a subconscious gesture as he reassessed a potential strategic ally.

"Invernus won't last much longer." Cohen's voice deepened. "The Invernus coalition forces have been repeatedly broken up and reorganized over the past few weeks, reducing their combat strength from tens of millions at its peak to less than 40% of what it was before. The Garros Legion, as the core force, has also lost more than 30%. The Cyclone Torpedo is currently the only option—efficient and fast, capable of resolving the problem as quickly as possible. Once orbital air superiority is achieved, the fleet can directly use macro cannons and light spears to cover the Greenskin assembly area on the northern front."

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He looked at Dante.

"Invernus is not a strategic node that can be consumed indefinitely—it is a wound that is bleeding dry. The reinforcements from the space dwarves have given us a window of opportunity, and we can no longer wait; we must intervene immediately, quickly, and effectively."

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Dante looked at him without saying a word.

"My legions are on that defensive line. I watched them disappear wave after wave. If three Cyclone torpedoes can wipe those two wrecked ships off the tracks, I don't care what weapon they use."

Calgar lowered his arms. Tushan's fingers stopped on the table. The two battle commanders exchanged a glance—a silent confirmation between veterans.

Tu Shan spoke first, his voice low and hoarse: "Three Cyclone torpedoes—you used them to destroy wrecked ships, but what about the remaining one after the war?"

"All three are activated, two are used for strikes, and the last one is kept as a backup," Cohen said. "If they are not used, the original storage conditions on the Fireseed can be restored. Or they can be handed over to the theater command for disposal, provided that the war ends."

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Tushan nodded without asking further questions. His dark red pupils contracted and dilated, the only physical reaction of the Salamander Commander as his adrenaline surged.

Calga's voice broke in, steady and deep: "Sage Cohen, you know the rules regarding the authorized use of this weapon."

“I know,” Cohen said. “Both the chapter commander and the inquisitor have the authority to authorize the use of extermination weapons in emergency situations in the theater of operations. The Cyclone torpedoes on the Fireseed came from the Pronoris Forge World, which is documented and procedurally sound.”

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Horst took a step forward from the flank, stepping out of the shadows and into the main lighted area of ​​the tactical hall.

"The authorization process for Extinction Order weapons, as Sage Cohen stated, is legally sound." His voice regained its composure, but the hand that had been resting on the edge of the table clenched again beneath his robes before relaxing. "According to Imperial law, Chapter Masters, Inquisitors, Imperial Admirals, and the Supreme Commander of the Astral Army all have the authority to authorize the use of Extinction Order weapons in emergency situations within a war zone. The key lies in the legality of the target and the necessity of its use. The space wreckage is the Orcs' mobile command post; the target is legal. Fleet warfare cannot destroy the target at an acceptable cost; the necessity of its use is sufficient. The process can proceed. The key is who gives the order."

Commissar Arek's prosthetic eye refocused: "How much debris would be generated from attacking the wrecked spaceship with Cyclone torpedoes? Would that debris threaten the surface of Invernus and friendly ships?"

"The sensor array on the Spark can calculate the optimal detonation angle," Cohen said. "Choosing the side of the wreck facing away from Invernus as the detonation direction will allow the blast wave and debris to spread into outer space. If there are concerns about debris remaining after the wreck breaks apart, the fleet's macro guns can further pulverize large pieces."

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Dante spoke, his voice not loud, but every word drowned out all the breathing in the tactical hall: "Authorized use."

The mission was to carry out a Cyclone torpedo strike. The launch authorization was approved by me personally, and Judge Horst confirmed compliance.

His gaze shifted to Cohen.

"After the torpedo strikes are completed, the war zone will enter the highest-intensity orbital bombardment phase. Simultaneously, the Blood Angels will execute an orbital assault—a decapitation strike against the Orc battlefield command node on the northern outskirts of Invernus. The Salamanders' heavy firepower units will provide support to suppress the outer positions. Karga, the Ultramarines' reconnaissance team has confirmed the signal signature."

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Calga nodded.

Dante continued, "Gallos is coordinating in a synchronized manner—several important strongholds on the northern and eastern fronts of Invernus have been occupied by the Orcs for over a month, and Gallos's reserves seized the opportunity to recapture them after the orbital bombardment. Sage Cohen, how is the reorganization of your reserves progressing?"

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Cohen replied, "Thirty fully-equipped infantry regiments, two armored regiments, and one Knight squadron are all in position. The Starfortress Carrier Battalion—a total of 1,500 units—is serving as the frontline breaching force. The Imperial-class Titan 'Burning Fury' and two Admiral-class squadrons have been on standby as the general reserve, not deployed to the defensive line for attrition. Invernus has not yet collapsed. Once orbital air superiority is achieved, these forces can recapture the strongholds on the northern and eastern fronts within twenty-four hours."

After Cohen finished speaking, the entire venue fell silent, especially the sages of the Mechanicus, whose signals fluctuated violently, and then several holographic images disappeared—a disconnection caused by data overload.

Dante leaned forward slightly, his dark golden eyes lingering on Cohen's face for two seconds. It wasn't scrutiny, but a reassessment. A Mechanicus sage possessing three Cyclone torpedoes, a Titan legion, a Forging Ark, and 1,500 Starfortress mechs—his value in this war far exceeded what the label "Invernus Defenders" could define.

His voice was flat, but there was something extra in his tone: "Starfortress mechs - 1,500 units?"

"Yes, Commander."

"Once orbital bombardment begins, you will be responsible for recapturing strongholds on the northern and eastern fronts. The fleet will provide orbital fire cover for your ground forces."

He turned to the holographic star map and marked four clear tactical axes at Invernus's location: the red-marked cyclone torpedo strike trajectory, the orange-marked orbital bombardment coverage area, the gold-marked Blood Angels decapitation strike route, and the blue-marked Garros reserve counterattack direction.

"This operation must be carried out simultaneously. Once the wrecked ships are destroyed, the orcish orbital defenses will collapse, and the orcish ground command chain will also be temporarily broken. That window of opportunity will be the perfect time for a counterattack."

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His gaze swept across all the windows.

"Sage Cohen. You are in charge of deploying the Whirlwind torpedoes on the Fireseed. The Black Pearl is to carry out a critical strike mission. The Garros fleet's combat record and battlefield performance have exceeded the theater's expectations. Your flagship, the Black Pearl, in particular, has been impressive."

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Cohen pressed his right fist against his chest. "Confirmed. The Garros reserve force will advance in sync with the commencement of orbital bombardment."

In the holographic projection, the dome of the tactical hall lit up again. The dark red markings on the Amighidton star map were re-marked, and the four tactical axes shifted Invernus's battle situation from passive defense to active counterattack.

The tactical meeting lasted three hours.

Cohen stood in the command post of the Middle Nest Cathedral, staring at the empty conference interface panel. He closed his eyes briefly—not to rest, but because someone who hadn't had a full night's sleep for weeks needed a brief respite from the brink of collapse, a necessary pause to maintain focus by briefly shutting off visual input. One second, two seconds, then he opened his eyes and pressed the communication button.

"Edric. I authorize you to retrieve the Cyclone torpedoes. The Thinker array on the Fireseed has opened the deep weapons depot."

You retrieve the torpedoes and hand them over to the Black Pearl. Marcus, the Black Pearl, and the Truth will carry out the strike mission; the Glory will provide backup if needed, so all three are preheated.

Edric's voice came through the channel: "Fireseed received."

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Marcus's voice remained calm and steady: "Black Pearl understands."

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"I need to make sure the launch is successful. This is the only chance."

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"clear."

He cut off the communication and turned to Cole, who had been by his side the whole time.

"Cole. Notify all units: Once orbital bombardment begins, all reserves will be deployed. Starfortress Marines will be in charge of breaching. Reserves led by Imperial Titans may begin warm-up preparations."

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Cole's voice was brief and forceful: "I understand, everyone's got this on their sleeves."

Cohen continued, "Notify Kara, and also inform the Silver Robe Order to strengthen internal defenses."

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Cole accepted the order and left. The command post fell silent once more.

Cohen stood before the sand table, looking at the four newly marked tactical axes. Invernus had no way out. Neither did he. But this time, it wasn't about defense.

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