2nd Primarch

"Crack!——"

When Dukel broke the last Stormboy's neck, he did not continue his charge. Instead, he observed the surrounding terrain and the movements of the Ork troops from the concealment of the jungle.

Like a predator hiding in the wilderness, he watched his prey's every move.

"Send me the map of the surrounding area," Dukel commanded the battleship's command center through his built-in vox-link.

Soon, a holographic projection materialized before the Primarch.

The projection was blurry, showing only the rough terrain and the general direction of the Ork army. This imprecision was due to the interference of the Orks' Waaagh! force field, which disrupted most Imperial detection machinery.

Combining the projection with his own reconnaissance, Dukel formed a clearer picture of the Ork army's disposition.

The army consisted of millions of ground units spread loosely across hundreds of kilometers. Their Warlord, Bonecrusher, and his personal guard were likely located at the center of the formation.

Dukel moved with inhuman speed, flashing through the jungle like a shadow. No Ork unit noticed his presence as he scouted the area.

Finally, he marked a location on the holographic map—a zone about fifty kilometers across.

He was almost certain that this was where the Warlord Bonecrusher was based.

In war with Orks, the decapitation tactic was often the most effective. The Tyranids had already demonstrated this principle: cut off the head, and the body falters.

Facing billions of Orks across an entire planet, large-scale tactical operations were impossible. Dukel knew the only option was to strike swiftly and decisively.

"Shivara," he called through the vox-link, "disperse the escort team and send them to coordinates 73.63 and 15.22. Deploy to all twenty-two designated points."

"Yes, sir!" Shivara, a former Sister Repentia and now captain of Dukel's personal guard, responded without hesitation.

"Activate the mind matrix once you reach the coordinates," Dukel added.

"Understood."

Turning his attention to another officer, Dukel issued more commands.

"Political Commissar No. 22, lead the Krieg soldiers in a tug-of-war with the Ork ground units outside the marked zone. Keep them occupied."

"Yes, sir!" The voice of the Krieg Commissar, devoid of doubt or hesitation, came through loud and clear.

"Kane," Dukel continued, "take the Valhallan regiment and provide fire support along the perimeter. Dig in, harass any Orks attempting to reinforce, and disrupt their movements."

"Understood, sir!" Kane's voice was steady and resolute. The once-reluctant Commissar had fully embraced his role.

"Gray," Dukel addressed another officer, "prepare the Ultramarines Company for an airdrop operation. The command center is readying long-range firepower. Await the signal to deploy."

"Yes, Your Highness!" Captain Gray, commander of the Ultramarines contingent, responded immediately.

Satisfied, Dukel concluded, "Gentlemen, for humanity!"

The vox-channel erupted with a unified response: "For the Emperor! We will win!"

Drawing his chainsword, Dukel crouched low, coiling like a spring.

With explosive force, he leaped into the air, his massive frame hurtling towards the Ork army like a meteor.

Boom!——

The ground shook as Dukel landed, the impact sending a shockwave rippling outward. Orks within a hundred meters were thrown into disarray.

"You Ork scum, come out and die!" Dukel roared, his voice echoing like thunder.

The chainsword roared to life, and with godlike speed and strength, Dukel waded into the Ork lines. Green blood sprayed as the Primarch tore through his enemies, their corpses hurled dozens of meters into the air.

Before the dust from his landing had even settled, the first wave of Orks was annihilated.

Finally, the surviving Orks reacted.

"Enemy attack!!!"

"Is it those Blood Axe gits again?" one shouted.

"No! It's just one humie!" another exclaimed, bewildered.

But before they could regroup, Dukel crouched low once more and leaped again.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Each landing sent shockwaves through the battlefield, crushing Orks and scattering their ranks.

Meanwhile, at a coordinate on the edge of the battlefield, a squad of Primarch Guards advanced rapidly.

Wherever they went, rivers of green blood marked their passage. They moved like shadows, silent and deadly, dispatching Orks with monomolecular blades to avoid drawing attention.

"The second coordinate has been secured," a Battle Sister reported over the vox.

Before she could finish, a massive Ork warrior charged out of the dense foliage, aiming straight for her.

Towering over her at more than three meters tall, the Ork's hulking frame made her seem fragile in comparison.

The Ork grinned, believing victory was at hand. But as its clawed hand reached for her, the Sister of Battle grabbed its face with one hand, yanked it close, and began pummeling it with her other fist.

One punch. Two punches. Three punches.

By the time she stopped, the Ork was unrecognizable. She tossed its mangled body aside, wiping green blood from her face.

"Coordinate two is secured," she repeated calmly.

The Primarch Guards, elite warriors from the Heart Network, were unmatched. Each had a biomagnetic field of 50,000 rotations—a testament to their superhuman prowess.