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Naturally, the surprises this Astra Militarum regint brought to Rowan did not end there.
Amidst the deafening cacophony of the battlefield, Rowan's eyes suddenly narrowed. Almost simultaneously with Cybia, he turned to look toward the periphery of the engagent zone.
They saw volley after volley of artillery shells plumting from the sky. The majority of the Ork Boyz massed on the flanks were suddenly subjected to a devastating pincer attack, falling at an alarming rate as their dense formations rapidly thinned out.
This unexpected clearing of the green tide allowed both of their lines of sight to pierce through the Ork ranks and behold the spectacle unfolding in the distance.
—It was a rolling tide of Imperial steel.
Leman Russ battle tanks and Chira armored transports rumbled forward, churning up massive clouds of dust. Soldiers clad in heavy flak coats and rebreather masks, gripping lasguns tight, advanced seamlessly between the armored behemoths, pouring coordinated, highly efficient volleys into the Greenskins.
"...Is this local reinforcent? Their response ti is quite comndable."
Rowan was sowhat surprised. "Furthermore, this armored formation is excellent. It is highly disciplined and cohesive; this does not look like a hastily scrambled counter-attack."
"This must have been a pre-planned stratagem. I understand now. Their original tactical doctrine was likely to utilize entrenched light infantry to absorb and stall the Greenskin vanguard."
Cybia, possessing significant tactical command experience as an Inquisitor, began to analyze the situation. "Once the Orks were bogged down in the trench lines, they intended to deploy their armored reserves in a flanking maneuver, forming an armored spearhead to strike the enemy's exposed sides and seize the tactical advantage."
"It is a rudintary tactic, but exceptionally effective."
"Your assessnt is likely accurate."
Rowan nodded. "Moreover, considering they imdiately adapted their battle plan to support our insertion the mont they witnessed our drop pods hit the dirt, and managed to coordinate such a devastatingly precise artillery barrage... the commander of this regint truly knows what they are doing."
However, this worked out perfectly.
Thanks to this tily reinforcent, Rowan no longer needed to call down an orbital strike from the strike cruiser.
Previously, all the Dreadclaw drop pods had inserted the Astartes company directly into the heart of the Ork armored column.
The Astartes had been forced to violently carve out a landing zone from within a hyper-dense armored cluster. Therefore, despite their overwhelming wargear, they had sustained significant casualties.
Of course, with the absolute safety net of Rowan's reality-bending dominion, every fallen Astartes had been instantly reconstructed and thrown back into the at grinder.
But now, the tactical paradigm had shifted entirely. The Astra Militarum's sweeping assault had violently drawn the attention of more than half the Ork horde, causing the previously suffocating Greenskin formations to rapidly loosen.
Conversely, the Imperial forces had organically ford a highly potent, unified offensive front.
It was akin to a spear: the Astartes were the razor-sharp spearhead, possessing terrifying penetrative power. They had already pierced deep into the Ork lines but were bogged down by the sheer mass of the green tide, like a spearhead lodged deeply in flesh.
But now, with the Astra Militarum acting as the driving "shaft" of the spear, the montum of the battle violently shifted. The squad's advance accelerated exponentially, effortlessly punching straight through the disorganized Greenskin defensive lines.
At Rowan's signal, Cybia's eyes ignited with psychic light as she conducted another tactical sweep.
She swiftly delivered her report: "...Confird. Just as you predicted, the xenos failed to anticipate the sheer velocity of our breakthrough. They lacked the necessary ti to successfully mass all their armored assets into a cohesive formation."
"At this precise mont, their armor remains widely dispersed. They have completely failed to achieve a force density capable of threatening us."
Rowan nodded in satisfaction. "That is more than sufficient. The paraters for a decapitation strike have been t. Prepare to execute."
He engaged his will. Lucia and Leonardo, who were currently slaughtering their way back and forth through the enemy ranks, received the telepathic summons. They imdiately broke contact and executed a tactical withdrawal to converge on Rowan's position.
Once they had ford up, Rowan casually extended a hand, making a slight grasping motion toward the earth.
A large mound of dirt flew into the air, violently twisting and morphing as it hovered.
Matter transmutation, structural reconfiguration, ontological shaping... Ultimately, subjected to Rowan's absolute will, the dirt was forged into a massive, auric shield and a crackling power sword.
It was the signature wargear of the Adeptus Custodes: a Sentinel Blade and a Praesidium Shield.
Invisible telekinetic force hurled the weapons toward Leonardo. Comprehending Rowan's intent flawlessly, the Custodian discarded his depleted Guardian Spear and caught the newly forged armants.
Equipping the sword and shield, he took up position alongside Lucia, flanking Rowan.
The relic storm shield and the Praesidium Shield locked together, forging an utterly impenetrable vanguard.
"Move!"
At Rowan's command, the four of them instantly detached from the Astartes company. Like a localized hurricane, they violently pierced the Greenskin defensive line before them in a matter of seconds.
It wasn't that the Ork Boyz didn't attempt to fight back, but every single round they fired was effortlessly absorbed by the interlocking shields of the Living Saint and the Custodian. Any Greenskin foolish enough to enter their lee range saw only a flash of cold light before being reduced to dismbered, bloody chunks.
Rowan was not idle either. He swung the Ceremonial Sword of Solomon repeatedly, its blade seemingly ignoring the constraints of physical space.
With every downward stroke, golden flas spontaneously ignited upon his targets. Whether it was a densely packed mob of Ork Boyz or heavily armored looted vehicles, they were unconditionally reduced to piles of smoldering ash, effortlessly carving a wide, unobstructed path forward.
Hovering just behind them via telekinesis, Cybia constantly calculated and updated the most optimal, direct route for the decapitation strike.
It wasn't long before Rowan's eyes locked onto the colossal Ork Battle Fortress, resembling a massive, land-bound battleship.
Although a smattering of armored vehicles and Killa Kans had managed to rally around the Battle Fortress, they were entirely unprepared for the terrifying speed of the Imperial breakthrough, instantly falling into chaotic disarray.
"Don't panic! Wait, wot da zog are dose fings?!"
Deep within the Battle Fortress, Warboss Galiya's eyes bulged as he stared at the four bizarre humies charging directly toward him.
He watched as these four individuals carved through the battlefield with absolute impunity. The hulking, brutal Boyz surrounding them failed to slow them down for even a microsecond; they shattered every obstacle in their path like dry twigs.
As for their objective...
It was so blindingly obvious that even an Ork could comprehend it instantly.
A rare surge of genuine panic gripped Galiya's heart. He imdiately roared at the top of his lungs:
"Open fire! OPEN FIRE! Shoot everyfink we got! Stop 'em right zoggin' now!"
Following his roar, the stunned Greenskin subordinates finally snapped out of their daze. Tanks and Trukks elevated their cannons, while Deff Dreads and Killa Kans raised their heavy weapons. An apocalyptic monsoon of firepower erupted simultaneously.
Though this localized fire-mission was hasty and poorly coordinated, it was undeniably lethal.
Unfortunately for the Orks, in the eyes of Rowan and his retinue, this level of firepower was woefully inadequate.
Cybia unleashed a piercing psychic shriek. A raging tempest of telekinetic force violently expanded outward with the soundwave, ultimately coalescing into a colossal, impregnable kine-shield in the air before them.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!!!
The torrential rain of artillery and high-explosives roared as they detonated against the barrier, yet they failed to impede the squad's advance by even a fraction of a second.
Ultimately, they completely breached the imdiate periter of the Battle Fortress.
Surrounding them, what seed like an endless tide of Ork armor and various clanking contraptions surged toward Rowan's squad in a frenzied, desperate swarm.
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