As the main front erupted into full-scale war, the Imperial offensive legions launched their operations.
The Nineteenth Legion emerged from the shadow of a star, launching a comprehensive strike against the Rangdan transport fleet. The Sons of the Shadow fought with nimble and fluid tactics, targeting the Rangdan transport ships specifically, striking and retreating instantly without ever lingering in combat.
The Blood Angels Legion deployed from the edge of the Ultramarines' defensive line, striking at the Rangdan transport arteries surrounding the warzone's logistics lines. To expand their tactical gains, Sanguinius continuously relied on his prophecies to strike at vital Rangdan junctions. Under his leadership, the Blood Angels fleet darted like ghosts through the void; the Rangdan fleet could neither track their movements nor keep pace with their rhythm.
Another active vanguard fleet—the Space Wolves—sallied forth from the Imperial Fists' defensive line, creeping through the void to evade Rangdan patrol fleets. Leman Russ led his Pack, stealthily slipping toward the Rangdan host's most critical distribution hub: the Medusa System.
This system bore a formal name on the star charts, but Russ adamantly insisted on calling it the "Medusa System," solely because when viewed from the void, the red star at its center looked like a hazy, translucent cap, while the wakes of countless starships converged from all directions like the extending tentacles of a jellyfish.
"Great Wolf, please reconsider."
On the bridge of the Hrafnkell, a Rune Priest wearing a wolf-skull helm and clutching a psychic staff issued a solemn warning to his Primarch: "The Medusa System harbors immense danger. I see the Great Wolf howling in agony."
Russ, clad in his runic power armor, furrowed his brow tightly, his golden, feral eyes locked onto the tactical sand table. His lips twitched, his tongue brushing against his sharp canines, his eyes burning with absolute reluctance. The Pack had cloaked through the void for a long time to seek a high-value target; now that it was right before them, he could not bear to walk away without tearing off a piece of flesh.
The Medusa System was simply too rich. Within this dim system, the Rangdan had established several storage worlds to serve as forward supply hubs for the front lines. If they could seize this place, it would provide a massive boon to the front lines, perhaps even bringing an early end to the Rangdan War.
Yet, the Rune Priest's interpretation of the abstract prophecies revealed an unprecedented peril.
"Howling in agony?" Russ murmured, pondering the prophetic illusion.
Undoubtedly, the prophecy unveiled the fate of the Wolves: launching a reckless assault would inevitably incur catastrophic losses. He shook his head to dispel the wild ferocity from his face, asking the Rune Priest solemnly, "Do we secure a victory, then?"
Hearing the Primarch's inquiry, the Rune Priest sighed with heavy regret but dared not hide the truth: "The spoils would be immense, enough to tip the scales of the entire war."
A satisfied grin spread across Russ's face, his gaze shifting from the Rune Priest to the jellyfish-shaped system.
"Wolf-pups!"
The Wolf King let loose an exhilarated roar, his wild voice reverberating through the vox-channels.
The Rune Priest shook his head; everything was unfolding just as the prophecy foretold: the starving wolves, enticed by the flock, had launched their pack tactics. But the flock was protected by armed shepherds!
"All thirteen Great Companies, deploy! Tear into this slow, bloated jellyfish!"
Russ waved his hand to finalize the battle plan, locking in all operational targets: "Unleash the full performance of our warships, hold nothing back, and rip those alien bastards apart!"
"For Russ! For the Allfather!"
The Pack responded to the Great Wolf's call with a deafening chorus of howls.
The Primarch's voice rang through the channel once more: "In this battle, the Pack will howl in agony, enduring the loss of our brothers as they depart from us————"
The Hrafnkell accelerated abruptly, initiating short-range system jumps to plunge directly into the bustling Medusa System. The vox-channel echoed with the Wolf King's roar, conveying the painful future in a ruthless tone: "But we must face it, and we must endure————"
"Because the hunt of the Pack dictates the life and death of countless humans!"
"The Second Rangdan Campaign shall draw to a close with the onslaught of the Wolves. Our claws and fangs will deliver a devastating wound to the alien empire."
"Our deeds may never be sung in sagas, but the undeniable truth remains—the Pack shall drag the Imperium of Man out of this quagmire of war ahead of time."
"Wolf-pups!" Russ suddenly raised his voice, delivering his final challenge: "Are you ready to sacrifice?"
The channel fell silent for two seconds before the Pack unleashed a thunderous response: "The storms blow fierce upon Fenris; it calls for our return!"
"Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"
Russ let out a hearty laugh, donning his frost-colored power armor helm, lifting the Mjalnar chainsword, and taking the Kraken's Tooth axe from his thrall. Fully armored, the Wolf King stood ready for the impending carnage.
A massive swarm of hull-shadows lunged from the system's edge. Alarms wailed across the Medusa System, yet there was no trace of panic. Those who should have behaved like panicked "sheep" remained orderly, continuing to log and transfer supplies as scheduled.
Russ's eyes turned icy, his nostrils flaring as he caught the scent of danger. But he didn't care. Even if a snare and peril awaited them, the fat sheep inside the "pen" were real.
The transport ships didn't flee; they stayed at their berths looking outward, complacent within their defensive ring, utterly unaware that today's hunters were prepared to throw everything to the wind!
The Pack split into thirteen prongs, and under the leadership of their respective Jarls, they lunged savagely toward their designated targets.
"The wild dogs have finally shown their faces!"
A mocking laugh crackled through the holographic channel as a transmission forced its way into the Hrafnkell. A massive fleet materialized from beneath the orbital plane, launching an attack directly into the belly of the Pack.
Two Rangdan Overlords appeared, their crimson eyes fixed upon the human Primarch: "Leman Russ."
"Do you know who arranged for us to wait for you here?"
"Hmph!" Russ snorted in disdain, not even bothering to remove his helm: "Despair-Sky, Wander-Sky."
"You lots are worse than dogs."
"What?" He stared straight at the Rangdan Overlords, his gaze nearly melting through his visor: "Did that traitor lash you with a whip?"
"To make the two of you bow and scrape, obeying his commands while looking utterly smug about it."
"The intellect of your entire species is comparable to a single-celled organism. To wage a total war, you still require an outsider to command you?"
"Have the wise minds of the Rangdan Empire all died out?"
Russ knew that their treacherous brother, Solas, was directing this campaign.
Faced with the torrent of inquiries from the human Primarch, filled with unmitigated insults, the dark green skin of the Rangdan Overlords grew even uglier. Having occupied high stations for so long, no one had ever dared to defile them so, leaving them temporarily speechless against his crude vitriol.
"You———— You!"
Despair-Sky raised a tentacle, his speech faltering, his brain-folds pulsing with fury as thick cerebral fluid dripped in patches.
Russ sneered beneath his helm, feeling a wave of intense disgust.
"Mere silver-tongued arrogance!" Wander-Sky restrained his brother, his eyes reflecting the human Primarch: "The human legions have stepped into our snare. We need only beat a dog that has fallen into the water."
"We can save some of our energy to celebrate our victory, and then watch how a wounded stray flees with its tail between its legs."
Wander-Sky's voice was deep and melodious, as though she were delivering a prophecy, her heart full of anticipation for the slaughter.
"Flee?" Russ questioned, cutting the holographic transmission.
The Hrafnkell pivoted in the void, dipping its prow ninety degrees to directly face the Rangdan fleet surging from below. The warship's plasma engines roared, leading the escorts to charge straight at the Rangdan flagship!
The Space Wolves' vessels pressed forward without retreat. Utilizing performance capabilities that far outstripped standard Imperial warships, they endured the strikes of the void defense platforms, plunging into the inner system.
The transport fleet panicked, scrambling to decouple from the transit platforms, but it was already too late.
The Pack's fleet, upgraded by Nur, possessed immensely powerful macro-cannons and lance batteries, boasting longer ranges, higher firing frequencies, and targeting arrays that remained locked in real-time. The thin shields of the transport ships overloaded instantly, their bloated hulls shuddering as they were torn to splinters by torpedoes and lances. Countless supplies spilled into the void, a catastrophic spectacle.
The Pack had gone feral!
The warships ignored the pursuing enemy vessels, frantically battering the supply fleet, determined to deal a devastating blow to the front lines. Russ's wolf-pups were wild and fearless, ordering the main fleet to break away while a small detachment piloted their vessels straight into the storage worlds. They were willing to trade minor sacrifices for ultimate victory.
The true void battlefield was concentrated in a single sector. The Hrafnkell's shields flared wildly, her surrounding escorts heavily scarred. Her broadside drew parallel to the Rangdan flagship, firing at point-blank range and blowing sheets of armor plating into space.
Then came the boarding action—a mutual boarding operation between the two flagships.
When outnumbered and outgunned, a boarding action was an exceptional choice, capable of turning the tide in a desperate situation. The advantageous side, seeking to solidify their victory, chose to board as well.
With both sides launching boarding actions against one another, the fleet actions effectively ceased, as both vessels were flooded with opposing warriors.
As the Wolf Terminators successfully completed their boarding run, clearing out a secure perimeter, the legionaries deployed teleportation beacons. Teleportation lightning flashed rapidly, and Russ, sword and axe in hand, stepped onto the Rangdan Overlord's flagship.
When a Primarch boarded, flanked by the Legion's most elite warriors and escorted by Dreadnoughts and Terminators, conventional firepower naturally failed to halt their advance. The group trampled over alien corpses, cutting through bulkhead after bulkhead as they closed in on the Rangdan Overlords.
The Wolves were silent and swift. With every passing moment, their battle-brothers elsewhere in the system were meeting glorious deaths. Only by slaying the Rangdan Overlords could they salvage the battle lines.
The frost-blue teeth of Mjalnar whirred, its crossguard caked in shredded alien flesh, as the boarding party stood before the Rangdan bridge.
Psssshh~
The airlock doors slowly slid open, and Russ cast his eyes upon the two alien abominations.