As the dense Orks beneath the ice continuously awakened, the entire planet began to tremble.
These savage creatures surged out from the glacial fissures like a tide, their numbers despair-inducing.
The situation had deteriorated to a critical point. Alex stood on the command bridge, looking through the porthole at the green tide spreading across the surface, his face so grim it could drip water.
At this moment, Alex had completely abandoned the idea of holding this planet.
Facing a Green-skinned Orc tide of such magnitude, even the most elite Imperial Defense Force would struggle to resist, let alone his own forces, which had already suffered more than half their casualties.
But retreating in such a disheartened manner was absolutely out of the question—because Kroak was still on this cursed planet.
Alex stood before the command console, his gaze fixed on the ancient ruin coordinates, which flickered red on the holographic projection.
A terrifying existence capable of destroying an entire Star District slumbered there, and he absolutely could not just leave it behind.
Kroak in the ancient ruins was like a ticking time bomb; once it fell into the hands of the Orks, these insane war machines, led by the ancient Orcs, would sweep across the entire Star District.
Alex's temples throbbed. He seemed to already see the terrifying scene of those Orks, enhanced by Kroak's power, driving modified war machines to sweep across human colonies.
The WAAAGH they unleashed would spread like a plague, and even the Necrons' dynasties would struggle to resist wherever it went.
After repeatedly weighing the pros and cons, Alex finally came up with a solution that could be called insane: first, get Kroak out at all costs, and then find a way to directly hurl this planet, which was suspected to be an Orc Battle Moon, towards the Necrons' throne world.
Let these two cursed alien races fight among themselves!
While doing so might very likely lead to the Orcs continuously evolving in their war with the Necrons, eventually raising a terrifying "Gu King," it was still better than letting his own forces directly face this catastrophe now.
Having made his decision, Alex wearily rubbed his brow.
He clearly knew that confronting the Green-skinned Orc army with his current forces was tantamount to suicide; the war machines continuously emerging from beneath the ice were enough to crush the entire Rostov Defense Force into dust.
But if he were given time to develop, and once he leveled up twice more and could deploy a Primarch, even if these Orcs gained improvements from their battles with the Necrons, it wouldn't be an insurmountable problem for Alex.
At worst, he would stage a Primarch's return. Alex believed the Emperor would have no objections.
After all, compared to the Orks getting Kroak, the return of a Gene-Seed Primarch was truly nothing to the Imperium.
Thinking of this, he immediately adjusted the Imperial Army's combat strategy on Helson III, instructing the Imperial Army on the dome side to contract their defenses and prepare for retreat.
The sounds of various Commanders confirming orders came through the communication channel, interspersed with the painful moans of the wounded and the roar of armored vehicle engines.
Meanwhile, at the ancient ruins on the other side, more troops were committed to holding the line.
Alex looked at the re-deployed Imperial Army markers on the holographic sand table, knowing that every reinforcement meant more soldiers would sacrifice their lives in this frozen hell.
At the same time, Alex strictly ordered the Adeptus Mechanicus to transfer Kroak from the planet's surface as quickly as possible; this monster absolutely could not be left behind!
As for the planet itself, the Adeptus Mechanicus was to find a way to push it towards the Necrons' throne world.
Alex looked out the porthole at the ice-bound planet gradually being consumed by green, his eyes as cold as knives—since it couldn't be saved, then let it become a weapon to destroy the enemy.
—
Under Alex's command, the Imperial Army on the planet's surface quickly moved, and the entire ice field battlefield immediately became a scene of intense activity.
Confirmation orders from various units echoed one after another through the communication channels, with the roar of armored vehicle engines intertwining with the footsteps of soldiers.
The Astra Militarum soldiers who had just emerged from the orbital drop pods looked at each other, their faces beneath their helmets filled with confusion.
"We just landed and we're already retreating?" a young soldier whispered, only to be glared at by the veteran beside him.
Although dissatisfied, military orders were absolute, and they quickly gathered their equipment and began to move towards the designated rendezvous point.
At the same time, a steel torrent composed of Chimera armored vehicles and Leman Russ Tanks was assembling on the ice field.
The roar of engines shattered the polar silence, and ice crystals condensed on the cannon barrels rattled down with the vibration.
The Commanders of these heavy units stood on their turrets, confirming their attack routes via holographic projections. The projectors flickered intermittently in the extreme polar cold, reflecting the grim faces of the Commanders.
The armored crew meticulously checked the loading status of the main guns, and the white mist exhaled by the loaders condensed into tiny ice beads on the inner walls of the gun barrels.
The tank Commanders repeatedly verified the coordinate data of the ancient ruins, and hoarse confirmation sounds occasionally echoed through the communication channel.
The gunner of a Vanquisher leman russ was adjusting the laser rangefinder, and the distant, blurry figures of moving Green-skinned Orc war machines were reflected in its lens.
In the hastily constructed frontline command post, staff officers were nervously adjusting the battle plan.
Inside the command post, assembled from prefabricated armor plates, heaters struggled against the minus forty-degree severe cold. The tactical staff officer's electronic tablet was sluggish due to the low temperature, forcing him to repeatedly tap the valuable device.
On the holographic sand table, green arrows representing the armored units slowly pointed towards the location of the ancient ruins.
At the edge of the sand table, red markers symbolizing the Green-skinned Orc legions were continuously proliferating, spreading like a plague.
"Have the 7th Armored Regiment lead the charge," the Commander said, pointing at the sand table, his voice hoarse from days of battle: "Their leman russ Vanquishers are best suited to deal with those Green-skinned Orc war machines."
The staff officers nodded in silence; everyone understood what this decision meant—the 7th Regiment would directly face the wrath of the Stompa and the Gorkanauts.
But Imperial Army soldiers feared nothing; armored troops fight every enemy!
—
Meanwhile, at the other end of the battlefield, inside the ancient ruins, five Sisters of Silences stood around Kroak.
Their silver-grey power armor was covered in fine frost, and each had deployed her Void Field, enveloping Kroak and the surrounding instruments and equipment within the Void Field.
The power of the Void Field cut off the transmission of the WAAAGH field, firmly imprisoning Kroak's power and preventing it from affecting the Orks outside.
The Adeptus Mechanicus Tech-Priests were busy inside the ruins, with High Priests directing Low-ranking Priests, Servitor, and thralls. servitor skulls hovered overhead, emitting piercing binary chants.
They meticulously dismantled Kroak's binding devices, mechanical tentacles operating the ancient containment mechanisms with millimeter precision.
They knew that even a slight mistake could awaken this slumbering ancient monster.
The hydraulic systems of the servo-arms groaned under the strain in the low temperature, but the dismantling work could not stop.
Anti-gravity platforms were already in place, their surfaces flickering with unstable electrical light, awaiting only the final transfer order.
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