“Hmm… these humans claim they are fighting for the Emperor’s will, to reclaim a certain treasure possessing massive life force from the Orks for the Master of Mankind… Ah, you mean…?”
Grey Wind’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“The one that’s contaminated isn’t the Orks, but that so-called treasure?”
“Exactly,” Russell confirmed.
At this moment, Russell was driving a small shuttle alone, hurtling through the empty deep space outside the Faya system.
He was moving so fast that his craft was stretched into a thin line.
This small shuttle wasn’t equipped with any powerful propulsion system; the reason it could force its way to near-light speed was the result of him constantly stacking buffs with psionic power.
The psionic potential of the Zroni—even the End of the Cycle would give it a rave review.
While piloting the craft, Russell connected to the communication line with the Seeker.
Listening to Grey Wind’s pitiful complaints, he felt his soul being thoroughly comforted.
“If nothing goes wrong, the Chaos contamination on the Battle Moon should be the handiwork of the Plague God Nurgle. The God of Life couldn’t possibly be uninterested in a so-called treasure containing immense life force.”
Just as Russell finished speaking, Grey Wind asked in confusion, “The God of Life? That name sounds like a very benevolent god…”
“If only that were the case,” Russell laughed.
“I’ll explain the details to you later. For now, I need the battle to remain at a stalemate as long as possible. I’ll be there soon.”
“Grand Marshal, talk is cheap when you’re standing on the sidelines.”
“I’m sitting,” Russell replied instantly.
“Then talk is cheap when you’re sitting down…”
In the control room of the Seeker, a tiny Grey Wind—now less than a meter tall—sat on a desk, swinging her feet as she looked at the intrusion reports coming in from all over the space station with a grimace.
After a prolonged war of attrition and losing countless warships, the Orks had finally succeeded in a boarding action against the Seeker.
On the bright side, a large number of damaged human ships were currently docked in the fleet anchorage at the bottom of the space station undergoing repairs.
Learning that the space station had been boarded, these red-eyed Pilgrims didn’t even need Grey Wind to ask for help; they immediately sang hymns praising the Emperor and charged out to fight the boarding Orks to the death.
“Humans are really terrifying,” Grey Wind sighed softly, her brow still tightly knit.
The information sent back by her subprocesses showed that the Cybrex Warform’s movements were becoming increasingly sluggish and sticky.
If the foul flesh grew and spread to the control hub in the chest, Grey Wind would have to abandon this unit to prevent the Chaos corruption from tracing back through her subprocess and contaminating her core consciousness.
Thinking of this, Grey Wind couldn’t help but recall the stories Russell told her every night.
“While the corrupted area is still small, I should deplete as much of the Orks’ active forces as possible…”
Grey Wind maneuvered the heavily damaged space station to take cover and refit along the broadside of the battleship *Fire of Penance*, while ordering the Warform units on the ground to concentrate their fire on the enemy Stompas.
Under the concentrated fire of eighteen Warforms, even though the greenskin Stompa—also a Titan-class unit—was buffed by a Waaagh! field, it only held out for less than half an hour before crashing down, reduced once more to a pile of scrap metal.
The destruction of such a colossal machine was nothing short of spectacular.
The valor of the Cybrex Warforms immensely boosted the morale of the Imperial soldiers.
They followed alongside the Titan Legion, their rumbling iron torrent on the verge of cutting through the green tide.
The fortress housing the Ork leader was now close at hand.
A solemn holy hymn echoed across the near-vacuum battlefield; Grey Wind couldn’t understand those obscure, archaic words, and she was more curious about why people were singing on a Battle Moon, and how those voices managed to penetrate their helmets.
But soon, Grey Wind discovered that the Imperial forces weren’t the only ones invigorated by the formidable combat power displayed by the Warform units.
The Orks, despite being brutally slaughtered, somehow grew fanatical as well.
Not a shred of fear could be seen in them.
Wave after wave of valiant battle cries echoed in everyone’s minds, completely drowning out even the hymns praising the Emperor.
“Waaagh!!!”
The Waaagh! field on the Battle Moon grew unprecedentedly powerful at this moment.
So much so that Grey Wind, who was controlling the Cybrex Warforms whose legs were infected by the Geller Iron-Plague, suddenly realized that the units’ steps were no longer heavy.
In fact, they were even more agile than before.
“What is going on?” Grey Wind was completely unable to comprehend this bizarre situation.
Not only their movement speed, but even the plasma and physical rounds unleashed from their weapon systems were becoming deadlier, as if boosted by a berserk buff.
In the end, it was Russell who answered her question.
“The scene of the Warforms you control destroying the Ork Titans was witnessed by too many Orks. They thought these big guys were very ‘Waaagh!’, so the Waaagh! field on the moon began to amplify the power of the Warform units.”
Russell said indifferently, “They believe you are powerful, so you become powerful. That’s just how the Orks work. You’ll get used to it.”
The Waaagh!
The Cybrex Warforms, deemed highly “Waaagh!” by the Orks, were now effectively blessed by a powerful layer of psionic energy.
The Chaos contamination they had suffered earlier was literally “thought away” by the greenskins’ collective “I fink” logic.
Buffing the enemy during a fight—such a breathtakingly absurd move was unique to the greenskins in the entire universe.
These guys’ style had always been this ridiculous.
“How ridiculous…” Grey Wind gained a brand-new understanding of this freakish species.
Today, she finally understood what kind of creature Vulkan, the Lord of Drakes, had died to.
However, while the activation of the Ork Waaagh! field was a buff for the Warforms, the other Imperial forces suffered miserably.
The Orks, fully worked up into a Waaagh! frenzy, became far more ferocious and powerful than before.
The smoking Gargants grew increasingly troublesome, and some Warhound-class Titans had already sustained heavy damage in close-quarters brawls with the Ork Killa Kans.
As the Imperial Titans fell, the gaps in the cover provided to the Warforms widened.
The Imperial forces were bolstered by their fanatical faith, and the Emperor’s light shone upon each of them, so no Chaos contamination occurred among them.
However, the situation on both the ground and orbital battlefields was far from optimistic.
Grey Wind felt she was reaching her limit.
“Grand Marshal, when are you coming back?”
“I’m already here.”
“So fast!”
As the voice in the communication channel faded, a shuttle—moving so fast it was stretched almost beyond recognition—plunged headfirst into the orbital battlefield littered with countless ship wrecks.
With astonishing maneuverability, it twisted and turned through the ocean of space debris, rushing toward the War Moon at the center of the battlefield.
The *Fire of Penance*, equipped with the most complete arrays, was the first to detect this incredibly fast intruder.
But its speed was simply too great; ordinary equipment couldn’t even capture the tail end of the wake the shuttle dragged through space.
After a brief consultation, a psionic advisor on board—a disciple of the Prophetess Alexei—was ordered to remove the blindfold covering his eyes.