Sanchez immediately noticed the hulking, soot-black figure. The information issued by the Primarch flashed through his mind.
'A Warboss.'
The Pyromaniac leapt off his jetbike at once. His right hand rose, condensing ball after ball of fire.
With a flick, the fireballs streaked toward
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The pelts Skilrga had worn were already incinerated to ash during the promethium blast. Now each fireball exploded against his body, tearing flesh apart chunk by chunk.
Sanchez's eyes turned deep and dark. He raised his bolt pistol in his left hand and fired at the Warboss.
Through his Warp Insight, he locked onto the ork's weak points. Each explosive round inflicted real damage, even against the brute's thick hide.
Skilrga roared in fury. His body grew heavier and heavier, his charge slowing with every step.
Then a piercing cry rang in his ears.
"Boss!"
He recognized the Weirdboy voice. Suddenly, power surged inside him, accompanied by the echo of a crude, divine presence.
"WAAAGH!"
The Warboss lunged forward with sudden speed, barreling toward Sanchez.
The Ork psyker burst from the flames, having cast Get Up an' Fight! on his boss. He then turned on the black-armored giant, bellowing like thunder.
Crackling green energy streaked toward Skilrga.
The Pyromaniac stomped down hard with his right foot, channeling his spirit. A Wall of Fire erupted.
Two serpents of flame coiled forth, one for the Warboss, one for the psyker.
A ring of blazing fire rose around the Pyromaniac, and when the psyker's green energy slammed into it, the impact burst in a series of explosions.
Sparks crackled, then the wall devoured the green fire whole.
Makrog barely had time to register that his Charred Husk had been neutralized before the fire serpents were upon him.
He rolled desperately, evading one serpent.
The other lashed Skilrga full in the chest.
But the Warboss ignored the pain. His eyes saw only the black-armored foe.
He slammed into the fire wall, heedless of the searing pain, raising his cleaver for a killing blow.
Sanchez was faster. He jammed his bolt pistol beneath the Warboss's jaw and pulled the trigger again and again.
BOOM BOOM BOOM!
BANG BANG BANG!
Skilrga's head exploded into pulp, his massive frame collapsing lifelessly.
Makrog scrambled up from his evasive rolls, only to freeze in shock, his Boss was dead.
'NAH! No zoggin' way! Da Boss was da WAAAGH-iest Boss dere ever was in here world. Ain't no one beat cept dat Warlord.'
Terrified, Makrog cast one last glance at the black-armored giant, then turned and ran.
The Pyromaniac's gaze followed the fleeing psyker. He drew deeper on his spirit, summoning a swarm of flaming ravens.
The more orks he burned, the stronger his mastery over fire became. The ravens multiplied.
He imbued each bird with a sliver of his essence.
When they left his body, Sanchez discovered his control had sharpened as well. He could now adjust their flight paths, ensuring every flaming raven tracked its quarry.
Makrog felt the scorching presence at his back. Heavy footfalls haunted his ears.
He dodged left, then right, but could never shake pursuit.
Boom!
A flaming raven struck him, then another, and another.
As Sanchez's Flame Ravens tore the psyker apart, he felt fire flow surging within himself like rivers of molten light.
Elsewhere, other Shadows of Order wiped out dozens more Snakebite Orks.
"Clean the battlefield," Sanchez commanded.
At once, the Shadows began collecting gear and relics their Gene-Father might deem valuable.
Flamethrower squads incinerated Ork corpses.
From the Primarch's instructions, every warrior of the 11th Legion knew: Orks reeked of fungal stench, and spread by spores.
Leave the bodies, and more would come, stronger than before.
The cleaner the purge, the easier the future.
Sanchez linked his vox comms to the Void Hunter.
"Szcesny, Jorginho, the ambush tactics worked against the Snakebites. Relay the order: the Chapter is to execute the same strategy. Exterminate the greenskins."
The Reaper Lord then led his forces directly into the Snakebite camp.
The resistance of Whip-boyz and Runtherds was crushed swiftly.
Securing the camp, Sanchez found cages packed with squigs, smaller than the monstrous mounts they had slain earlier, but still far larger than common breeds.
The Shadows of Order also uncovered venomous serpents, spiders, and other toxic beasts.
The Reaper Lord recalled from the Primarch's briefings: Snakebites trained by letting snakes bite them, hardening their flesh and gaining resistance to toxins.
More than curiosities, these could interest the Primarch as war spoils.
Sanchez compiled an inventory and forwarded it to the Primarch's aide.
After seizing the Attack Moon, Arsena rejoined the Nareth aboard the Throne of Shadow's Sovereignity.
Nareth sat upon the Black Throne, receiving the casualty reports.
"My lord, the Legion lost forty-one ships in the void battle. Eighty-six percent were destroyed while boarding the Attack Moon, under fire from thousands of Ork ships. Losses: two capital ships, thirteen escorts, twenty-seven destroyers."
Nareth showed little concern. The 11th Legion already had the capacity to build most common battleship types.
Vostroya's shipyards were operational, able to produce capital ships.
Triken's homeworld industry was forming, soon to surpass Vostroya's.
Most crucially, Cypra Mundi was expanding rapidly, with the potential to rival even Mars itself.
What mattered most now were personnel losses.
"In the void war, 1,892 Shadows of Order were killed. Crew and thralls exceeded 230,000.
In the storming of the battle-moon, 1,009 were slain: 17 Honor Guard, 516 from the Second, 292 from the Seventh, and 184 from the Fifth and Eleventh who joined late."
Nareth's mind raced. Total losses so far: 2,901 legionaries.
Sorrow filled his eyes.
'The Fire Wheel is a grand campaign. Losses were inevitable. The Space Wolves waged war for five years and lost a third of their strength.'
'With their numbers and reinforcements, by year 824 their size should have reached around 69,000. Thus, the Fire Wheel must have cost the Wolves around 23,000 lives, at minimum, not less than 20,000.'
He considered how the Imperium had yet to face an Ork Attack Moon. Likely, in the original Fire Wheel, half the Wolves' dead fell to it.
'And considering their tactics, their headlong charge was paradoxically the way to minimize losses. By that measure, our toll is acceptable.'
Through reason, Nareth steeled himself to bear the Legion's heaviest losses.
As he pondered, Arsena continued:
"My lord, the Reaper Lord reports that on the Seventh Planet, the Snakebites were broken by feigned retreat. Only four casualties."
"Excellent," Nareth said, delighted. "Publish this to all levels of command. Remind them: exploit the Ork weaknesses in my dossiers. Strike precisely."
The Arsena took note and gave the next update.
"My lord, the Death Lord reports Necromunda is now stable."
Nareth fell silent.
'Sanchez's lure tactics may not solve the larger, craftier Snakebite hordes, but they'll suffice for Planet Seven. The Prophecy Die will soon be recharged. The conquest of Catachan must be prepared.'
At last he gave the order:
"Deploy half the Fourth and Eighth Chapters here. Ready the landing craft. I will go to the Seventh Planet myself, to inspect the spoils."
...
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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