Above the skies, a fleet of Necron ships suddenly appeared in a completely unexpected location. There were no alarms, no advance warnings—this strange fleet plunged directly toward the combined Iron Warriors and Death Guard fleet.
Compared to the fleet the Iron Warriors had previously encountered, this one was clearly far larger in scale. Amidst a swarm of Jackal-class raiders, a much larger capital ship loomed.
But what puzzled observers was that this mothership looked like an oversized copy of the smaller raiders. Anyone with even basic knowledge of ship design would recognize immediately—it could have been far more "ornate."
Indeed, this was intentional. To prevent the human ships from fleeing too early, the Necrons had deliberately "disguised" the capital ship.
[Delta Formation!]
The moment the Iron Warriors detected the Necron fleet, Perturabo issued his command without hesitation.
This scenario had, of course, been accounted for in Perturabo's 256 battlefield simulations.
From Perturabo's perspective—who didn't understand the internal logic of the Necrons—there was only one explanation for their sudden assault on the drop preparation fleet:
They had chosen the right target.
But this time, the Necrons' speed shattered all previous records.
At that moment, air superiority over Sector 03 was still being contested.
There was no time to launch the drop.
In Perturabo's calculations, based on prior encounters, even if the Necron fleet reappeared, they should've had enough time to complete the drop operation.
But once again—the enemy had accelerated!
There was no more time. Perturabo realized this as he led the main Iron Warriors fleet to engage the Necrons.
In his assessment, the Death Guard fleet alone wouldn't be able to hold off the Necrons—but he also couldn't allow a "brother" to die in front of him.
As the overall battlefield commander, such a failure would be a disgrace that would haunt him for life.
Perturabo could feel the irritation rising in his chest once more.
Meanwhile, aboard the Fourth Horseman, Mortarion stood with a deep scowl.
"The Iron Warriors can't even provide air temporary cover?"
The Primarch was clearly displeased, but he also saw the Necron fleet barreling toward his position. Knowing full well how terrifying these ships were, he understood—there was no time to hesitate. Mortarion stepped out of the drop pod and strode toward the command deck.
He opened the comms channel.
[Hades.]
[Receiving, loud and clear.]
A familiar voice cut through the static.
[The second drop is canceled. Your top priority now is to link up with the vanguard forces on the ground and ensure you're not encircled and wiped out.]
Without the second wave of drop support, the units deployed behind enemy lines would be in a dire situation.
With the Necron fleet now in play, Mortarion didn't believe the ground forces could destroy the objective in time to relieve the fleet.
Therefore, the Death Guard on the surface must preserve their strength—until the battle in orbit concludes.
Hades froze for a moment, though his scythe still tore through the serpentine figure before him.
[Understood.]
Elsewhere, Dantioch also received a direct order from Perturabo.
[You must secure the objective, Dantioch.]
[My Warsmith—show the galaxy the strength of your steel.]
The casualties on the ground were irrelevant. Their mission was to support the fleet in orbit. That meant they had to destroy the Necroforges broadcasting signals to the Necron ships above.
[I'm giving you one hour.]
Perturabo gave his command.
Dantioch stopped supervising the trench digging.
[Understood.]
One hour.
That meant Perturabo wasn't even allowing time for retreat or shelter from bombardment.
Again. It was always like this.
Perturabo only ever gave them the bare minimum—the most brutal of timetables, the most unforgiving of tasks.
Just a little leniency would dramatically lower the difficulty of the mission and save a great deal of Iron Warriors' blood.
But Perturabo would never do that.
The hardest steel would not break under the hammer.
They had to prove their strength on the harshest battlefields.
Dantioch cursed under his breath, then resignedly opened the public vox channel.
[All Iron Warriors, return to the front line immediately.]
[By order of the Primarch, the objective must be taken at all costs.]
—?
Hades blinked as a metaphorical question mark popped into his head.
No way…
A sense of dread began creeping up Hades's spine. He continued cutting down enemies as he opened a private comms channel with Dantioch.
[Brother, may I ask—what were the orders you received?]
Dantioch, just having climbed out of the trench, irritably blew a Necron warrior's head off with a single shot.
He'd actually started to like Hades somewhat, but now—why was this Death Guard commander asking such a stupid question?!
Though frustrated, Dantioch maintained his discipline and answered gruffly:
[The Primarch ordered us to take the objective within an hour.]
Hades's mind was already screaming internally—
Of course!
He was momentarily speechless, but he had to respond.
[Brother Dantioch,]
[The order I received from the Death Guard Primarch was to immediately regroup with the vanguard forces and preserve the drop troops.]
Silence.
Hades refocused on the battlefield, but he could feel the tension radiating from Dantioch's side of the channel.
After a long pause, Dantioch's voice came through again—this time weary, as though aged a century in an instant.
[The orders... don't match.]
The part he didn't say out loud was:
Who are we supposed to listen to?
Officially, Perturabo held overall command of the campaign.
But in this particular ground assault, it had been planned that Mortarion would personally lead the effort, and most of the deployed forces were Death Guard.
So Mortarion was the operational commander of this battle.
By protocol, they should follow Mortarion's orders.
But no one had expected Perturabo—who had up till now been merely observing—to suddenly issue a direct command to Dantioch.
Dantioch understood that since the Death Guard made up the bulk of the ground force, this wasn't really his call to make.
The Death Guard would follow Hades.
And Hades… was most likely going to carry out Mortarion's orders without hesitation.
Which meant Dantioch, though unwilling, would have no choice but to follow suit.
But after this battle, once they returned…
As Iron Warriors, they would have to face Perturabo directly.
Dantioch was already cursing.
Why was it always like this? Why every damn time?
He looked at the white-and-green-armored Death Guard and realized that, in some ways, they—
Damn it. F*ck.
Dantioch shut down his train of thought.
Meanwhile, unlike Dantioch who was on the verge of giving up thinking entirely, Hades was racking his brain for a solution.
Just moments ago, a new report came in from the main front:
All Necrons were retreating frantically, throwing away all defensive formation.
After all, even if they were destroyed, the Necron warriors could simply resurrect from the rear Necroforges, albeit with some loss.
The Iron Warriors and the Graia Skitarii were in pursuit, trying to kill as many retreating enemies as they could.
In the skies above and across the yellow sands, the fragmented reports from the air units confirmed:
In 30 to 40 minutes, the Iron Warriors could launch another aerial strike.
But even if Hades decided to regroup with the vanguard now, he would likely run straight into the returning Necron main force.
And it was now impossible to rely on orders from either Primarch aboard the ships.
Mortarion and Perturabo were fully engaged in the space battle, unable to command the ground conflict anymore.
Hades paused in thought.
Which meant, the command of the ground battle had fallen to him and Dantioch.
Hades opened comms:
[Brother Dantioch, can you take charge of the main front operations?]
Dantioch blinked.
As one of the Trident, he did possess command authority directly under the Primarch.
But suddenly, he realized he might be able to use this to bargain with Hades, to push for the objective assault he wanted.
[Yes.]
Dantioch answered firmly and was just about to start negotiating, but Hades cut him off.
[Good. Have them stop chasing the retreating enemy. Focus all firepower on their armored units.]
[The main front must hold back their heavy firepower.]
[Also—have the air units hold this airspace for fifteen more minutes. Then immediately redeploy them to support the main battlefront.]
His voice rang out in sharp, fluent High Gothic—clear, commanding, no longer a suggestion, but an order.
Dantioch looked at Hades, still fighting fiercely at the front line.
What is he planning?
Hades answered the question directly:
[Brother, we're attacking the objective. Now. Within fifteen minutes.]
Fifteen minutes later, they would be inside the Necroforge complex, locked in close-quarters urban combat.
Even with air superiority, the enemy wouldn't dare bomb them—they'd risk destroying their own infrastructure.
Within the enemy armored units, some light vehicles could still function inside these city-like ruins, so they needed to be tied up immediately.
Hades understood what it meant for the Necron forces to be retreating and massing back here—
This place was critical.
It likely contained the signal transmitters and the Reanimation Protocols.
Destroying them would inflict devastating losses on the enemy ground forces, and would support the space battle above as well.
Even if the attack failed, the urban terrain of the Necroforge cluster would give the drop troops a better chance at survival in the face of Necron numbers—
Narrow alleys would neutralize the Necron's horde tactics.
This was the best plan Hades could come up with.
But Dantioch probably misunderstood him.
The Trident commander silently joined Hades at the very front lines.
[Thank you, brother.]
Dantioch's voice was hoarse and heavy.
It seemed he thought Hades was complying with Perturabo's orders.
Hades blinked.
He didn't bother correcting him.
<+>
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