Warhammer: Striving to Be a Grinding Man

Chapter 176 The Emperor's Will

Gologosa, Isavar Mountains.

The expeditionary force headquarters was located deep within a fortress recaptured from the orcs. Remnants of green graffiti clung to the walls, the crooked low gothic script and lines of orcish idols peeking through the Astragalus spray-painted markings like stains that could never be washed away. The hall was dimly lit; half the lighting panels were broken, the other half humming. A central tactical projection table emitted a cold, blue-white light, displaying a 3D map of the orcish core stronghold suspended in the air. The auxiliary screens on the walls displayed intermittent signals, the data from the front lines struggling to refresh amidst the interference.

The long table was filled with people on both sides. The generals of the Astronomical Army still had mud on their uniforms from the battlefield, and their epaulets gleamed dimly in the light. The commanders of the various factions remained silent. In a corner, the accompanying technical priest, with a data cable connected to the back of his head, was working hard to maintain the communication line.

Several sentries stood guard at the entrance, their tall, dark gray power armor emblazoned with the Arrek insignia. They carried chainsaws and held guns, the optical lenses beneath their visors glowing slightly red; these were clearly Arrek's elite guard.

In the shadows at the far end of the long table, a figure draped in a wolf-skin cloak stood. He was the representative of the Space Wolf, who had hunted the Bonebreaker since the beginning of the war.

Arek stood before the projector, the star insignia on his military overcoat collar gleaming. The red light from his mechanical prosthetic eye moved through the data stream, and the adamantite power claw on his left arm rested on the edge of the table, its tips opening and closing unconsciously.

Rellano sat a little further away, arms crossed, his light gray eyes fixed on the orcish defensive line projected on the screen.

Lucé stood behind Rellano, not sitting down. He was wearing a dark gray combat uniform, without power armor, and there were no documents he was processing. He simply stood there, as if coldly observing a farce.

Most of the experienced senior officers present began to vaguely sense that the relationship between Arek and the orcs was probably not so simple, but even Astartes, with his personality like Space Wolf, dared not say what the problem was, and in fact, he couldn't explain it clearly either.

"Final confirmation." Every word Arek spoke carried weight. "At dawn, the Third Group will make a frontal breakthrough, the first..."

The second group will flank from both sides. Prepare artillery fire, then the armored units will advance. He pointed to a marker on the projection indicating the third underground level. "The Bonebreaker's command center is here. This time, it can't escape."

A major general in the Astral Army hesitated before speaking: "The reconnaissance team confirmed that only regular troops are on the outer perimeter. Its elite forces are not present at the forward positions."

"That's it gathering strength," Arek said without pausing. "It's waiting for us to crash into the last line of defense, a death throes."

Just then, the duty sergeant strode from the doorway behind Arrek and whispered something. Arrek didn't turn around. After listening, he stood there for a moment, then his voice became unusually hoarse: "Put the plan on hold. Everyone stay where you are."

The air in the hall seemed to freeze for a moment. No one asked why. Arek turned to the communication panel by the door: "Let them in."

Footsteps echoed down the corridor. Twelve golden figures entered the hall. The leader, nearly three meters tall, wore golden armor etched with intricate prayer runes, his amber eyes gleaming like cooled molten gold in the projected blue light. He held a spear, its tip a curved, expansive energy field that gleamed coldly in the dim light. His helmet was tucked under his arm, and beneath his short, pale blond hair lay an expressionless face.

Four silver-gray figures followed behind them, silently slipping into the shadows at the edge of the hall. Their visors concealed the lower half of their faces, and their high-piled braids were tucked under their armpits like helmets. As they entered the hall, the terminal screen of the tech-priest in the corner suddenly flickered, all psionic waveforms simultaneously turning into static. Everyone in the hall with psionic potential felt a chilling, suffocating sensation, as if they had been suddenly thrown into a vacuum.

Rellano remained seated. The appearance of the Imperial Guards did not alter his breathing rhythm, but when the four silver-gray figures stood still, his light gray pupils contracted slightly. Not only because he recognized them, but also because of that familiar, overwhelming sense of emptiness—the Silent Sisters who served the most dangerous secrets around the Emperor.

The head of the guards walked to the long table, his amber eyes scanning the entire room before finally settling on Arrek.

"Sebastian Arreek."

His voice wasn't loud, but it clearly pierced through all the noise.

"The Emperor's will. You must travel to Terra and pay homage to the throne."

The entire hall was silent, save for Arek's heavy breathing. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but was interrupted by the Imperial Guard.

"But before that, you need to find someone." The leader of the Imperial Guards' distinctive magnetic voice rang out again.

Arek shut his mouth.

"Rellano," the royal guard uttered the name, "find him and go to Terra with him."

Then came a long silence. Someone put down a data tablet, the sound of its metal base hitting the table echoing clearly in the silent room.

Arek turned around. The red light from his prosthetic eye fell on the end of the long table, and everyone present looked at the figure in the gray combat suit with a titanium plate covering his forehead. Rellano leaned back in his chair, calmly meeting his gaze, and also meeting the Imperial Guard's.

"The one they're looking for, Rellano," Arek's voice lowered, "is it you?"

Rellano didn't answer directly. His gaze lingered on Arek's face for a moment before returning to the Royal Guard. That brief look held a deep, knowing understanding, one that had been anticipated all along. Arek no longer needed an answer.

"Why does the Emperor want us to go to Terra?" Arek turned back to face the Custodians.

"This is the Emperor's will," the Imperial Guard replied without question. "Sebastian Arrek, and Rellano. The reasons are not my concern. My task is to bring you back."

The atmosphere in the hall seemed to drop even lower. Arek understood: what the Emperor wanted now was not victory in this expedition, but rather him and Rellano.

"Just three days." His voice was slightly hoarse. "Give me three days to finish this battle. After that, I'll go wherever I want. The Bonecrusher is right there; I can kill it in just three days."

As soon as Arek finished speaking, the tense atmosphere in the hall was disrupted, and everyone began to breathe heavily, as if a star had been lifted up and then heavily put down.

The leading Imperial Guard stared at him, his face, which belonged to a perfect human, was expressionless, except for his amber eyes, which were like two constant gems.

"The Emperor's will," he said slowly, "must be carried out immediately."

At this moment, Relano stood up.

The chair legs scraped against the floor, making a screeching sound. He walked to the projection table and drew a few lines on the holographic image.

The 3D map of the orc stronghold rotated, and several new red lines extended from the two wings and the rear of the stronghold, marking several dense troop points in the previously blank outer area.

"The Bonebreaker isn't here." His voice was clear and calm. "Our Phoenix Legion's most elite reconnaissance squads, at great cost, received intelligence hours ago: it has a reserve position 300 kilometers behind the stronghold, and another orc legion of similar size is also lurking nearby. The core you see is just an empty shell filled with rabble. Its allies, all its war leaders, its loyal warbands, and its most deadly war machine are all outside your planned encirclement."

His finger traced the image, and the newly marked arrows converged inward from three directions, forming a deadly encirclement.

"It's still using the triple anvil tactic from the Battle of Ulano, only it's shifted its main attack direction from the front to the flanks." His tone was eerily calm, but he paused at the last moment while drawing lines, as if confirming something, before withdrawing his hand. "If the general offensive proceeds as planned tomorrow, your frontal forces will break through this empty shell within two hours. By the time you discover that the Bonebreaker isn't inside, its true elite will rush in from these three gaps simultaneously, cutting your army group into three isolated, unsupported positions, and then devouring them piece by piece."

Arek pulled up the data from his direct reconnaissance team and compared it line by line with the routes marked by Relano. The red light from his mechanical eye flashed rapidly between the two sets of images. A dozen seconds later, his finger stopped on the control interface—at the last key coordinate, the data from both sides completely overlapped. He turned off his own data projection, leaving only Relano's map depicting the traps radiating a cold light in the hall.

The shadows along the wall shifted. The representative of Space Wolves walked to the projection table, looking down at the newly drawn arcs of death. He stared for a moment, then looked up and gave Rellano a deep look before retreating back into the shadows.

"Command for the expeditionary force cannot be interrupted," Arek said again, still addressing the Imperial Guard. "I'm leaving; the handover of command will take time."

"According to Imperial law, your chief of staff will take over under wartime emergency regulations." The Imperial Guard's answer was prepared. "Until then, the entire expeditionary force shall proceed according to the evacuation plan immediately."

Arek stood there, staring at the three slowly rotating, inward-converging red arcs on the projection for a long time.

Then he reached out and turned off the projector.

The blue light receded, and the hall darkened. His finger hovered on the metal panel for about two seconds before he withdrew it.

Finally, his shoulders slumped slightly, as if a taut bowstring had finally been released, but it wasn't relief; it was an emptiness of losing one's goal.

"Give the order." His voice lowered, a hint of exhaustion seeping in. "All units prepare for the Twilight Evacuation plan. The First and Second Groups will provide alternating cover during the retreat, with the Third Group bringing up the rear. Heavy artillery will prioritize the dismantling and transport of core components; armored units will withdraw in echelons; engineers will lay delaying explosives along the main retreat routes. The final theater assessment report and all handover lists will be signed by the Chief of Staff. I—I'm not participating."

He turned to Relano, the red light of his mechanical eye seeming to have dimmed slightly, churning with the regret of an unfinished battle, the bitterness of being forcibly stopped, and a hint of indescribable relief.

“It seems,” he said, his voice softening, his tone meaningful, “that the Bonebreaker must live. We should go, to Terra.”

He took one last look at the map marked with traps and rescues, then took a step back and completely left the command position.

He turned to face the golden messengers and straightened his back.

"I obey."

Rellano didn't move immediately. He paused at the end of the long table, turning to the silent figure at the very end of the Guardian Legion—Luce. Rellano tilted his head slightly, his voice low: "You take command. Lead the Phoenix Legion to a safe retreat and return to Garros. Send a message to Garros: I have gone to Terran to see the Emperor. The Commander-in-Chief, prepare yourselves."

Lucé looked at him, everything was understood without words, and simply nodded.

Rellano and Arrek walked toward the door simultaneously. The guards moved silently, forming a protective and escorting formation. They did not look back as they crossed the threshold that separated the command post from their unknown fate.

The hall fell silent. The map marked with three arcs of death had disappeared from the projection table, but a few faint streaks of light remained on the now-darkened screen, slowly fading in the afterglow of the extinguished blue light.

At this moment, the aftershocks of all this had not yet reached Garros.

Cohen was in his office. It was an ordinary evening three days after he returned from the internet. The sky outside was completely dark, with only the lights of the residential dome still shining in the darkness. The casting satellite "Wangshu" reflected the cold gleam of metal in the distance.

Before him lay the technical documents for the Network Expansion Plan. The content was straightforward: Garros intended to establish a monitoring system covering all known Network Gates. The principle was simple—the activation of any gate would cause a subtle change in the flow of psionic energy within nearby sacred structures. The monitoring module acted as a sensor to capture this change, capable of pinpointing which gate was involved within minutes.

The next plan is more direct: once it's detected that either the Eldar or Dark Eldar have activated a portal, Garros' fleet, with overwhelming superiority, will execute a well-established ambush plan to eliminate the user. Then, a task force will forcibly pass through the portal to confirm its corresponding coordinates in the real universe. Afterward, Cohen can travel to that system via conventional warp space and establish a secondary portal under Garros' control.

With each coordinate he captures, his network expands outward a step. If needed, he can take his psionic forces on a single trip to complete the creation of secondary gates in multiple star systems—like nailing the empire's territory into the galaxy in another way.

He put down the data panel and looked out the window. That world, made up of lights, steel, and countless hours of labor, was the reality he had built and maintained daily. Garros's network had begun to operate relatively autonomously, allowing him to focus more of his energy on other things.