The imnsely thick alloy gates were thrown wide open, their sheer scale vast enough to accommodate the passage of an Imperial Titan with its head held high.
As the armored column of the Armageddon Steel Legion approached the breached gates, they were imdiately t with an incredibly enthusiastic welco from the Greenskins.
Under the rapid, overwhelming assault of the Astra Militarum, the Orks of the Blood Axe Clan decisively abandoned all pretenses of discipline, tearing away their thin veneer of 'civilized' warfare.
To buy crucial ti for the mass mobilization of their heavy armor in the rear, a newly erged Ork Nob led a screaming, fanatical mob of Ork Boyz into the breach. Devoid of any recognizable armor plating, wielding only the crudest, most ramshackle choppas and shootas, they surged forward with manic laughter.
They cramd the impossibly wide tallic gateway so densely that not a drop of water could pass through. The phrase 'a sea of bodies' manifested into a terrifyingly literal reality.
This was a tidal wave forged of flesh and blood.
However, standing against this all-consuming tide of flesh was another, equally massive tide—a rolling, unstoppable avalanche forged of cold steel!
From the command cupola of his personal Baneblade, the Fortress of Arrogance, Commissar Yarrick surveyed the carnage through the periscope. His voice was completely flat as he picked up the highly specialized, anti-jamming chanicus vox-caster graciously provided by Rowan.
"Open fire."
Upon receiving the command, the steel behemoths spearheading the formation instantly roared to life with terrifying exaltation.
The twin-linked Vulcan ga-bolters mounted on the hulls of the Stormlords spun up to blinding speeds. Long tongues of incandescent fla lashed out as a torrential monsoon of mass-reactive rounds slamd directly into the green tide.
Possessing enough kinetic force to shred light vehicles like wet tissue paper, the adamantium-tipped heavy bolts effortlessly punched through the thick, rugged musculature of the Greenskins, blowing cavernous, exaggerated holes through their torsos.
Furthermore, after obliterating the first Ork, the terrifying kinetic energy carried the bolts onward, violently punching through the second, the third, the fourth... only stopping when their montum was entirely spent.
Torrents of blood and massive chunks of shredded at erupted into the air, painting the steel deck crimson. The apocalyptic hail of fire literally pulverized every single Ork Boy standing in their path.
Following suit, the other anti-infantry specialized armor refused to be outdone, indiscriminately unleashing the Omnissiah's wrath upon the Greenskins who dared to stand before the tracks.
The Inferno cannons of the Hellhound fla tanks spewed searing jets of prothium, instantly incinerating massive swathes of the green tide into smoldering ash. Leman Russ Executioners discharged blinding blasts of plasma, surgically terminating elite, heavily armored Nobz hidden within the horde that posed a potential threat to the Imperial armor.
The crews of the Hydra flak tanks depressed their quad-linked autocannons parallel to the ground. Their machine spirits, having been personally coaxed and 'adjusted' by Rowan, roared with manic glee. High-explosive flak rounds blossod violently within the tightly packed Ork formations, blooming into endless flowers of blood.
Positioned ticulously in the center of the formation by Yarrick, the Baneblades—the ultimate all-rounders of the super-heavy class—also unleashed their arsenals. Firing all eleven distinct weapon systems simultaneously, they violently tore apart any enemy foolish enough to enter their crosshairs.
The armored column rolled inexorably forward. Adamantium tracks rcilessly ground the lifeless, mangled corpses of the Greenskins into bloody paste beneath their colossal weight.
Rumble... rumble... rumble...
Having visually confird the annihilation of all imdiate obstacles, Yarrick keyed the command vox once more, broadcasting to all armored elents:
"Hostiles neutralized. I repeat, hostiles neutralized! Our path is clear. Our path is clear!"
"252nd Regint of the Armageddon Steel Legion, advance!"
According to the pre-planned operational doctrine, the nurous Sentinel walkers—which had been carefully shielded behind the super-heavy tanks during the initial breach—now extended their chanical legs and sprinted to the vanguard, initiating forward reconnaissance.
A handful of sneaky Tankbustaz hiding in the blind spots of the advancing tanks, attempting to execute desperate ambushes, were rapidly flushed out and instantaneously vaporized by autocannon and plasma fire from the Sentinels.
"Periter secure. Comncing advance."
Following the reconnaissance reports, the steel treads rolled forward.
Upon officially entering the Hive City, the armored spearhead imdiately began accelerating down the primary arterial thoroughfares.
As for their tactical objective, it was exceedingly straightforward.
To satisfy Rowan's prerequisite of executing a decapitation strike on the Ork Warboss, Yarrick had considered how to force the elusive enemy commander to reveal himself on the battlefield.
Naturally, drawing upon a lifeti of gruelling military experience, Yarrick quickly arrived at the optimal solution.
The solution was: ignore everything else!
Ignore all secondary objectives, bypass non-critical engagents, and drive a hyper-lethal armored spear straight down the throat of the Hive City, crushing any resistance encountered along the way.
Let's see if you can still sit still when the Armageddon Steel Legion parks its super-heavy tanks right in front of your Void Shield Generator!
And Warboss Hakk Fang of the Blood Axe Clan was, quite evidently, not sitting still.
"Zog it all! A bunch of useless squigs! Are dey all just eatin' rations and doing nuffin'?! How could dey not hold dat gate?!"
Inside his command sanctum, Hakk Fang slamd a massive fist down, violently shattering a wooden tactical table.
The Ork ssenger standing nearby flinched violently at his boss's outburst, imdiately drawing Hakk Fang's ire.
"You! Shut yer trap, keep quiet, and listen to my proppa kunning micromanagent!"
"Tell dem to mobilize the whole zoggin' army! Forget about dem ugly bug-monsters tearin' up da artillery batteries, pull all dem Boyz back! Send 'em to reinforce Old Spire Street and build barricades!"
"Den, send da Speed Freeks mob to Old Spire Street too! Dey's always hollerin' about huntin' big ga, ain't dey? Tell 'em to look for an opening and strike!"
"Order da Ironclad Mob to form up and wait for my signal to counter-attack!"
...
Barking out unit designations like a rapid-fire shoota, he finally paused, his throat dry from shouting.
Believing he had just orchestrated an absolutely flawless tactical deploynt, Hakk Fang waved his hand dismissively, ordering the terrified ssenger to zog off and deliver the orders.
Then, he whirled around to face the Chief kboy standing on the opposite side of the room, his eyes blazing blood-red:
"Well?! Is dat secret weapon I asked for ready yet?!"
"Y-yes, Boss!"
Terrified that he might lose his head over his miscalculation regarding the humies' armored strength, the Chief kboy was currently acting as obedient as a frightened squig. He nodded frantically.
However, out of a desperate sense of self-preservation, he cautiously offered a disclair:
"It's just dat... since we couldn't find da right shiny bitz for it, da secret weapon might be a bit... unstable."
"Don't care!"
Hakk Fang violently cut him off, grinding his fangs. "Gork and Mork are watchin' ! All da Boyz are watchin' ! We's definitely gonna win!"
"I order you to go paint dat fing wif da brightest, reddest, most eye-bleedin' paint ya got! I'm gonna crush dem humies flat right in front of every last Boy!"
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