We’re Doomed.” 21: Chapter 21: The Count: “If Hundreds of Angels Have Arrived…
We’re Doomed.” Roya raised a hand slightly, silencing the thunderous praise echoing around him.
“Rise.” His gaze swept across the kneeling Space Marines before finally resting on the newly awakened Ancient Darrell.
“Save your strength for the xenos and the heretics.
Our next objective is the complete liberation of Hive Hephaestus.” He walked toward the tactical table at the center of the command post, his fingertips gliding across the holographic projection.
“The Apothecaries will continue using bread to accelerate the recruits’ growth.
Production must not stop.” He pointed toward one section of the map.
“James and your squad—report to the armory immediately and equip yourselves with the Mk VII Aquila Power Armor.” His finger shifted across the tactical display.
“Kahn.
Titus.” “You will command this operation.” “Take James and the newly reinforced brothers.
Assemble a force of four hundred Space Marines.” He traced a straight line across the projection.
“Advance directly through the Middle Hive and push all the way into the Upper Hive.” “Bring ample ammunition.” “If you encounter Orks, drown them in explosive fire.” “Do not conserve ammunition.” “Understood?” Titus struck his right fist against his breastplate.
“By your command, my lord!” Roya then turned toward Phoros.
“Phoros.” “You will lead three hundred brothers into the Lower Hive.” “Destroy every remaining Ork.” “Eliminate those filthy walkers lurking in the Underhive.” “Establish a defensive line around the sewage processing complex.” Phoros immediately knelt.
“The Lamenters shall not fail in their duty!” Orders spread rapidly.
Heavy armored boots pounded across the steel flooring.
The metallic clicks of bolters being loaded echoed throughout the temporary fortress.
Watching everyone depart, Roya quietly picked up his iron pickaxe.
He still had work to do.
To fully automate production, he needed large quantities of Slimeballs to craft Sticky Pistons.
Only then could he construct a true Redstone automation system.
Slimes, however, spawned only deep underground within specific slime chunks.
Without wasting another second, Roya led a small team deeper beneath the hive to begin constructing a slime farm.
Middle Hive Thirty-First Avenue Transit Plaza This was the final surviving stronghold within the Middle Hive.
The Imperial defensive line consisted of overturned Chimera transports, sandbag fortifications, and piles of corpses.
The remnants of the 89th Cadian Shock Troops fought shoulder to shoulder with the Planetary Defence Force.
Lasguns fired continuously until their barrels glowed bright red.
“For the Golden Throne!” A Count of the planetary nobility stood atop a ruined barricade, brandishing a crackling power sword.
His ornate carapace armor was splattered with dark green Ork blood.
A stray bullet had torn across his right eye, leaving blood covering half his face.
Then— From the darkness beyond the defensive line came an earth-shaking roar.
“WAAAGH!!” The Orks surged forward like a green tidal wave, swarming over the shattered blast walls.
Towering Ork Boyz wielding crude choppas hacked apart the front ranks of Imperial Guardsmen.
Heavy-caliber slugs tore wildly across the battlefield, ripping soldiers to pieces.
The human defenses buckled under the relentless assault.
Lasgun fire burned smoking holes through Ork flesh, but it was nowhere near enough to halt the green tide.
Beside the Count, a vox operator trembled while desperately adjusting his communicator.
“No response…” “The Upper Hive has gone silent.” “The Lower Hive has gone silent…” “We’ve been abandoned…” The Count tightened his grip on his power sword until blood seeped from his clenched palm.
He already knew the outcome.
Everyone here would soon stand before the Emperor.
Just as the Orks reached the final defensive wall— BOOM!!
A deafening metallic explosion erupted overhead.
The enormous alloy ceiling split apart.
An immense structural support collapsed under tremendous force.
Thousands of tons of rockcrete and steel crashed directly into the charging Orks, instantly crushing hundreds beneath the avalanche.
Dust filled the battlefield.
Then— Heavy footsteps echoed through the smoke.
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
Like gods descending from the heavens, towering Astartes strode through the breach.
At the front— Titus advanced with his bolter held firmly in one hand while his combat knife rested in the other.
Kahn followed closely beside him, his chainsword roaring hungrily.
Behind them marched four hundred fully armed Space Marines.
James and the newly transformed recruits now wore pristine Mk VII Aquila Power Armor.
Behind their helmet lenses burned nothing but unwavering obedience and murderous determination.
Silence swept across the Imperial trenches.
Then— The entire defensive line erupted.
“The Emperor’s Angels!” “The Adeptus Astartes!” “We’re saved!” Countless Guardsmen burst into tears as hope returned to the battlefield.
Morale soared instantly.
Yet unlike everyone else…
The Count’s face became deathly pale.
His hand shook uncontrollably around the hilt of his power sword.
Several surviving PDF officers rushed over excitedly.
“My lord!” “The Space Marines have arrived!” “We’re saved!” The Count ignored every one of them.
His trembling eyes remained fixed on the warriors emerging through the breach.
“Ten…” “Fifty…” “One hundred…” His legs gave way.
He collapsed onto a bloodstained ammunition crate.
“My lord?” One officer stared in confusion.
“It’s over…” The Count spoke with complete despair.
“Hive Hephaestus is finished…” His vacant eyes never left the endless procession of Space Marines.
“Four hundred Astartes…” “That’s nearly half a Chapter…” “If the Imperium has committed nearly half a Chapter to a single battlefield…” “…then the threat facing this world has already exceeded acceptable limits.” According to Imperial military doctrine…
A single company of Space Marines could suppress a planetary rebellion.
If hundreds of Astartes were deployed to one battlefield…
Then ordinary soldiers were no longer considered the decisive force.
It usually meant the planet itself stood on the brink of destruction.
Before anyone could respond— The battle itself completely shattered the Count’s understanding of warfare.
Titus never ordered a tactical formation.
He simply spoke one sentence.
“Free fire.” “Exterminate them.” This assault force included many brothers who had once been converted from Minecraft villagers.
Their backpacks were filled with gunpowder.
Iron was abundant.
Even if ammunition ran dry…
They could simply manufacture more on the battlefield.
Four hundred bolters rose simultaneously.
A wall of explosive shells erupted from their barrels.
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
This wasn’t disciplined volley fire.
This was relentless, continuous bombardment.
Every bolt detonated inside an Ork’s body.
Ork Boyz exploded into clouds of shredded flesh.
A dense storm of explosive rounds transformed the entire avenue into a zone of absolute death.
An enormous Ork Nob bellowed and charged toward the Space Marines.
“Focus fire.” Titus gave the order calmly.
More than twenty newly ascended Astartes immediately shifted their aim.
They fired together.
The Nob managed only a few steps.
Then it vanished beneath dozens of detonating bolts.
This horde—accustomed only to crude melee assaults and wildly inaccurate gunfire—had slammed headfirst into an unstoppable wall of disciplined explosive firepower.
Green blood and shattered corpses covered every inch of the plaza.
The psychic momentum of the Waaagh!
collapsed under the sheer brutality of the massacre.
The Count remained seated on the ammunition crate.
His mind had gone completely blank.
No maneuver warfare.
No tactical repositioning.
No desperate defensive struggle.
Four hundred Astartes simply advanced into an army of tens of thousands of Orks…
…and erased every living thing before them beneath an endless storm of exploding bolts.
“W-What Chapter is this…?” “…How can they possibly have unlimited ammunition?” Everything he believed about the Adeptus Astartes had collapsed.
Titus calmly fired one final bolt.
The last fleeing Ork’s head exploded.
He raised one hand.
Instantly— All four hundred bolters fell silent.
Smoke drifted across a battlefield that had become nothing more than a wasteland of shattered corpses.
Titus slowly turned toward the Imperial defenders.
His helmet’s vox grille emitted a cold mechanical voice.
“Rebuild your defenses.” “Hold this position.” Without another word, the four hundred Space Marines marched through the sea of Ork corpses and continued deeper into the hive.
As Titus’ force swept across the Middle Hive, Roya’s system interface continuously flashed deep beneath the city.
Experience points surged upward like a waterfall.
Deep underground— Roya lowered his pickaxe.
His experience level had surpassed Level 60.