Hell's Limit was blazing. In the past, it had been a major port imperial city located on the continent of Armageddon Secundus, but now it was a brutal and bloody battlefield between the inhabitants of the limit, the refugees who had arrived from the fallen Inferno, and the countless orcish hordes of Gazgkull Mage Uruk Thrak.
For someone on the outside, however, it might not be clear how the situation on Armageddon became so dire in the first place, so let us turn our attention to the not-too-distant past.
Thanks to the terrible leadership of planetary governor Hermann von Straub, who paid no attention to "just another orcish attack", the Gazgkull Armada successfully landed on the western continent, passed through a swath of jungle, and came down with a steel fist on all the nearest Imperial cities on the western continent. Foolishly dispatched by Straub, the small planetary defense force was immediately annihilated by the many times superior orc forces.
Unable to withstand the surprise attack, Armageddon Prime was soon forced to surrender, its supply lines cut and a flood of orcs filling the hive tunnels. In such a dark hour, the commissar of the 252nd Steel Legion Regiment, Sebastian Jarrick ordered the astropaths to send a desperate signal for help, which earned von Straub's displeasure and exile to the Gades Hive. But it would be shortsighted to underestimate the full flight of thought of the Imperial governors-general, for Hermann von Straub's bucket of "ingenious solutions for all occasions" was still full.
The planetary governor wasn't concerned about losing an entire continent, declaring that the orcs would never be able to cross the dense jungle that separated the greenskins from Armageddon Secundus. And what was his surprise when the Ancient-grown living weapon of endless war easily crossed the jungle and descended upon the lands of the second continent.
Von Straub gave orders to Prince Kurtiz Mannheim to lead his titans into battle against the orc armies. The princeps had no choice but to obey, though he was well aware that he was committing suicide. The Legion of Titans under Mannheim's command engaged the orcs at the hive of Inferno.
Although the princeps and his army dealt a serious blow to the enemy, they were unable to stop him. Curtiz's Titan was hit in the heat of battle, then the commander decided to ram the orc gargantuas - hitting several, he triggered the self-destruct systems, which caused a large explosion that took thousands of green-skinned men and several gargantuas to their deaths. If the situation was just lousy before the fall of the Steel Legion, now it was actively going straight to hell. Everywhere, Imperial troops were retreating haphazardly, pursued by jubilant Orc troops. The Xenos triumphed, tearing apart the human world and reveling in its suffering.
As the Season of Storms gathered full force and the seas literally boiled, the orcs set course for the Inferno Hive. The inhabitants of the city decided to surrender the city without a fight, and began the arduous and deadly march to other hives. Tens of thousands of refugees wandered across the inhospitable and poisonous wastelands, dying from the harsh environment or falling prey to bands of orcish Speed Maniacs who relentlessly harassed columns of fleeing humans.
As they advanced southward, the hordes of Gazgkull decided to split up, heading for the hives of Gades and Hell's Edge. It was to Hell's Edge that most of the refugees arrived, desperately hoping to be able to board ships and sail across the Ocean of Storms to leave the dying continent. But the Orcs following them were not going to let the "weak younglings" go so easily.
However, the humans were not so simple. Exhausted by endless loss and defeat, fed by their hatred of the Xenos. they thirsted for the blood of the unholy greenskins.
And Servius Blake, as one of the generals of the SPO did everything in his power to make the orcs pay as dearly as possible for the attack on his city. Already quite an elderly general in his senior years, he took command with honor. Most importantly, unlike the usual cabinet rats, he had had a chance to smell gunpowder in his youth, albeit only in local conflicts.
All those unable to hold weapons were loaded onto converted supertankers and sent away through the Ocean of Storms, while the rest prepared to sell their lives for more money.
Servius Blake and his men knew that help was not coming, that their fight would change nothing and they were all dead. But the flames of hatred in their hearts were so strong that they didn't care.
"Bu-u-u-um!" - A powerful explosion made Blake stagger and grab onto the nearest metal handrail. In the distance, a mushroom cloud was rising with black smoke.
- The thirty-second warehouse has been successfully detonated," the general's vox-bead activated, giving him both good and bad news. - Zeta's group had successfully booby-trapped and detonated the charges. Unable to leave the warehouses, the Zeta Group commander decided to take more green-skinned men with him. Emperor bless them.
- Report received, bless them Emperor. - Servius said stiffly in response, not letting his voice slacken even the slightest bit. - Tell Beta and Gamma to start blowing up railroad tracks five through eight, the Orcs are trying to drive our own trains deep into the defenses.
- Yes, sir!
Blake knew he was sending two more squads to certain death, but what right did he have to hesitate while the loyal sons of the Imperium were sacrificing their lives at literally every turn?
Unable to defend themselves against the overwhelming orc forces, it was customary to blow up any transportation hubs, factories, and hive warehouses to take more xenos with them to the other world.
And burn, exploding promethium tanks, splashing burning fuel everywhere, and the black smoke from the burning hive made day into night, so black and light-tight was it.
The heroism of the inhabitants of Hell's Edge did not end there, however. Blake had seen with his own eyes how several of the harbor workers had welded themselves inside heavy tower cranes, and then, letting the equivalent of Imperial titans, the Oroc gargantuas, get close, they had unleashed all their fury upon them.
Steel rang out, and the multi-ton cranes clashed in a brutal melee with the tall, gun-toting, upright orc robots. Though the gargantu were rightly considered the most dangerous machines of war, even they could not ignore the multi-ton structures falling on their heads. Of course, the green-skinned crane climbers would soon reach the desperate daredevils, but they would have time to collect their bloody tribute.
Nevertheless, despite the desperate resistance, the defending forces were immeasurably smaller than the attackers. Orcs could easily exchange ten fallen for one man killed and still win.
And the math was not so favorable to humans. After all, the orcs were facing not the legions of Imperial Guards hardened in dozens and hundreds of wars, but ordinary SPO forces reinforced by the locals. At the same time, even the simplest orc was physically superior to even a very strong human. Yes, humans were more agile and faster, but in the cramped streets of the hive, it was not always of any use.
The old man turned away from the subordinates standing near him so that they would not see the traitorous moisture in the general's eyes. It pained Blake to see loyal sons of the Imperium die for nothing at the hands of the damned Xenos. And there was nothing that could be done! The general had traitorous thoughts of trying to retreat. Not even for his own sake, but to save someone, but he sent all the ships away, so that they would not fall to the orcs.
"O All-Good Emperor," the elderly SPO general said in despair, covering his eyes to avoid seeing the collapse unfolding before him and mentally appealing to the only thing he could, "Do us one last favor. Help your sons to fight evil..." Suddenly the old man froze and opened his eyes, staring in disbelief into the gray sky from the glowing clouds.
Did he think or hear the sound so familiar and native to the military ear—the roaring turbines of the landing shuttles? Breaking through the skies, like angels of the Emperor himself, dozens, hundreds, and then thousands of small and large vehicles, carrying on themselves, no doubt, messengers of their God, who at the last second still sent help! Howling with their powerful engines, the steel vehicles began to fan out, covering the hive from all sides.
The defending people froze, not fully believing their own happiness. The gas mask lenses stained with their own and others' blood stared intently at the descending shuttles. The battered humans would not be surprised in the slightest if the new arrivals were hidden orcs.
"Fshuh! BU-U-U-U-M! Fshuh! BU-UM-UM!" - The black clouds of smog and smoke abruptly parted to the sides, revealing impressively sized holes into which the onboard salvos of the orbiting starships rushed. And though they struck the green-skinned troops outside the hive, the force of the blows made the shudder of each hit felt from the bottom to the top of the human steel anthill.
And then the spinning and descending machines opened fire at once, blasting, tearing, and burning the green-skinned hordes rampaging below.
Bombs and missiles rained down, crushing and crushing the damned Xenos.
And then the humans surrendered. There was no more patience or doubt. A joyous shout rose to the heavens and the orcs who had entered the city trembled for the first time, for now they were facing not those who had surrendered and were doomed to die, but those who had finally seen hope. And for the sake of the latter's "smile" the fierceness of the conflict reached a new level.
In addition, the landing of newcomers was only gaining momentum. Choosing to land in the most difficult directions, the shuttles hissed open their gloomy yawns, letting out the blood-thirsty ministers of the holy crusade.
And while the orcs had previously been challenged by the tired, doomed hive dwellers, now they were pounced upon by the absolutely fresh spawn from the very depths of the Ixodus hive. Trained and tortured by their instructors for weeks, these fighters now wanted only one thing: to kill. And now they could surrender to that desire with absolute devotion. The combat chaplains were not inferior to them. Constantine did not eat his bread in vain. His subordinates were often bandits or killers who knew perfectly well which end to hold their weapons at, and their bravery also energized everyone around them to do new things in the name of the Emperor's God.
But do not think that despite such crushing pressure, the orcs immediately surrendered. No, they fought just as fiercely, but now the odds were not on their side at all. Deprived of reinforcements, who were currently engaged in an exciting game of "dodge the orbital strike," they were forced to retreat, returning their battered and blood-soaked home to the hive's original inhabitants.
Servius Blake, with newfound vigor, was back in command, operating his remaining forces with the vigor of an orchestra conductor.
He was so busy that he almost missed the aquila, the light transport shuttle that usually carried officers or other important personnel, escorted by a few hollow fighters.
The General had made it to the landing site at the last second, deciding to greet the new arrivals personally. They had earned his respect more than anyone else.
The guards were the first to pour out onto one of the hive roofs, and then those for whom the shuttle had been raced came out. Blake was surprised to see the uniforms of the Imperial Guard.
Yes, the military-type gas masks were present, and most of them even had military uniforms, but everything else! For one thing, many of the guards wore the Emperor's numerous holy sigils and neatly pinned pages from the scriptures.
As if that wasn't enough, next to the religious symbols, the ugly, obviously bandit insignia and insignia were quite a nice neighbor. What to speak of, a couple of the guards had managed to put real Mohawks on their gas mask helmets!
One thing was certain, whoever they were, they had nothing to do with the Imperial Guard.
The people who followed them were anything but ordinary. First and obviously in charge was a tall and menacingly wide because of the power armor, a completely bald man with a grim, sinister look. Knowing how hard it was to get a power armor "liddle," Servius had no doubt that this was no ordinary man.
The leader was followed by three men, each of whom stood out even from the other. The first one was dressed in a black, many times mended, old soutane, reinforced here and there with random elements of armor. The abundance of holy sigils attached to it hinted directly at his involvement with the eklesiarchy.
The other might have looked like an ordinary Imperial officer, if it weren't for the black aquila pinned directly on his face. Blake had no way of knowing, but the tattoo was the result of Fisher's carefully calibrated revenge, having managed to bring loyalists into the former general's entourage not so long ago.
The third and final companion stood somewhere in the middle between a model Imperial Guard soldier and a member of some particularly violent gang from the bottom of the hive.
- Welcome to Armageddon, sir," Blake struggled with surprise. - Your arrival is certainly a surprise, but an exceptionally pleasant one. Your arrival has been sent down to us by the Emperor himself! If you'll pardon me, but I still haven't been told who you are...
- We are a minor crusade of the God-Emperor himself! - An old man in a cassock and a heavy power stick roared loudly, causing everyone around to jump. - We bring death and fire to heretics and xenos! And as we have heard, there is an overabundance of the latter in this land!
- You weren't lied to. - Blake replied diplomatically, glancing at the still silent big man in power armor. Was he mistaken about who was in charge of this company?
- Fisher, Numenorius," the tallest newcomer spoke suddenly. His voice was the same as his appearance, just as tense and worried. - What is the general situation?
- According to the reports," the two generals contacted their commanders. - The Orcs are retreating, and in some places they are beginning to flee the city. The orbital bombardment has ended, so the orcs are reestablishing order.
- That's great," Blake wanted to ask what was so great about it, but didn't have time. - It gives us an excellent opportunity to attack them immediately.
"What? What's he talking about? What about intelligence?" - A thousand questions flew through the old general's mind, but he prudently kept them to himself. Looking at the faith that burned in the eyes of this unknown man's subordinates, he was frankly uncomfortable expressing any doubts.
Meanwhile, more and more transport shuttles began to land nearby, and those that had landed moved on, leaving the general standing uncomfortably aside.
Cursing quietly to himself, Servius hurried after them, asking rhetorically into the air, "And who the fuck is that?" The more unexpected was the answer that came.
- It's a Saint. - When Blake realized who had answered, he almost jumped back. Covered in ritual scars, with a severed and overgrown nose visible through a transparent, homemade respirator, one of the "soldiers" spoke to him. - And you'd better be polite when talking about the Emperor's own Saint. - Once again the hardened murderer advised, and as much as Blake wanted to show his attitude to such a brazen violation of the chain of command, he prudently did not. And judging by the look of the general's guards, they were in no hurry to interfere either.
- I'll keep that in mind. - He squeezed it out, and the fleshy beast in human form moved away in satisfaction.
Blake looked around and shrugged his shoulders as if from the cold. Everywhere he looked there were so many fierce thugs that he wondered where this "Saint" had found so many skilled killers.
Servius shook his head, amazed at the fierce loyalty he had seen earlier and now.
Was this really a Saint?
Blake had heard of the existence of minor and major crusades, but he hadn't thought he'd have to witness something like this in person.
The old general resolutely pushed the unnecessary thoughts out of his head. Right now, he should organize the remaining forces and prepare to support the advance of the landed troops.
Even though their behavior seemed strange, Servius couldn't help but notice that such a confident demeanor... the Saint even filled him with confidence in victory. And in such hard times, it was faith that was in short supply.
This chapter was edited by Old Man of the Mountain/Darklord331 Thanks to him pat him in the comments.