The void battlefield was incredibly chaotic, with lasers and torpedoes everywhere.
The ork fleet and the Human fleet were locked in a brutal struggle.
But the moment the warp rift appeared...
The people of the Imperium couldn't help but turn their gaze towards the warp rift that emitted an intense radiance.
A colossal vessel, designed by the Emperor himself ten thousand years ago, constructed in the warp, and forged from adamantium and marble, emerged through the Great Rift, making its appearance before everyone.
A magnificent spread-winged eagle formed its prow, and the hull was inlaid with exquisite statues and shrines.
It was a starship, one that no other vessel on the battlefield could compare to.
In the vast star river, only a peerless hero could be worthy of this warship.
The Gloriana-class, the flagship of the thirteen Primarchs, Macragge's Glory, arrived at the battlefield at this moment.
It was a symbol of the Imperium, and wherever it went, it represented the victory of humanity.
Inside all the Imperial vessels, excited cheers erupted with the appearance of this Gloriana-class warship.
In unison, they all shouted one name.
Guilliman.
Iser could not even hide the tears on her face.
Even after undergoing neural conditioning surgery, her agitated heart broke through the shackles of rationality at this moment.
The Primarch had arrived in person; what glory this was!
Clusters of battleships followed Macragge's Glory, leaping out of the warp.
Any one of them was enough to decide the outcome of a space battle.
Yet, at this moment, they all centered around Macragge's Glory, forming an unstoppable spear, determined to destroy all enemies.
Without waiting for the Geller field to collapse, this massive Imperial fleet joined the battle.
Beams of scorching light struck the tails and flanks of the ork warships.
Rows of torpedoes fanned out, cutting deadly trajectories through space.
Following were high-yield nuclear missiles, densely launching from their ports.
The thruster plumes outlined a giant net in the void, engulfing the enemies along the way.
Dense flashes of light ignited within the ork fleet.
One after another, the unprepared ork vessels were reduced to ash before the terrifying firepower of the Imperial fleet.
The deadly high temperatures and explosive power of the nuclear bombs were compressed into an extremely small area; even the thick hulls of the ork warships could hardly withstand them.
Triggered torpedoes erupted in violent flames, instantly engulfing the smaller ork warships.
Lances tore through the ork ships like cutting through butter, turning them into debris in the cosmos.
When the ork bosses, enraged by the sudden attack, tried to unleash furious roars at the despicable 'humies'.
The exploding warships inflicted massive damage upon them.
Large numbers of ships were caught in the chain reactions.
Accompanied by a series of explosions, the space battlefield quickly became filled with fragments, forming a cloud of metal tens of thousands of kilometers in diameter, still rapidly expanding.
The plasma reactors of the ork warships exploded repeatedly.
Brilliant firelight illuminated the rapidly expanding metal cloud.
It was like a grim ork giant face, letting out a silent roar into the void.
In the gaps between explosions, the light of molten metal made the metal cloud look like a blood-stained sunset.
The orks pushed their warships' plasma reactors to the critical point, risking overheating and explosion at any moment, and drove their engines madly.
They wanted to turn their massive warships to face the new threat.
This was a major taboo in space warfare.
Never expose your flanks and rear to the enemy.
Iser did not waste the opportunity created by the Primarch.
Under her astonishing command, the scattered Imperial warships quickly regrouped and completed their reformation with astonishing speed.
With a high degree of coordination, the warships adjusted the distance between them, converging into a cohesive whole that advanced and retreated as one.
Under her command, the Human warships, originally spread across the long front, quickly combined into an attack formation poised to strike.
The ork warships, fighting individually and in disarray, were utterly incapable of resisting this massive, unified assault.
One after another, ork warships vanished in explosions.
Even the larger, more organized ork fleets met with the most tragic defeat.
The remaining ork ships attempted to flee towards the planet Ramillies 1.
But the Imperial fleet, like a pack of hunting wolves, pursued them relentlessly.
"Burn them out among the stars. No entity shall challenge the dignity of Our race."
Guilliman's voice resonated through the communications of every warship, deep and powerful, inspiring everyone.
Countless people cheered at this.
The fleet obeyed his command, continuously unleashing torpedoes, missiles, and lances upon the ork ships drifting among the wreckage.
Fighter squadrons flew out of the hangars of the combat docks, trailing plumes of fire as they charged into the dark void, weaving through clouds of metal and rock.
The pilots of the fighter squadrons quickly spotted a massive ork warship struggling amidst the ruins and debris.
A huge wound had been torn in the ship's hull, but the orks were still trying to restart its engines.
The fighter squadrons circled the ship, attacking, inserting through the massive gap, and assaulting the ship's core chamber.
Melta bombs tore through the reactor shields.
Uncontrolled plasma spewed out from every opening.
Particle flames ignited everything they touched.
Even steel melted under the high temperature.
After completing their strike, the fighter swarm disengaged from the ten-kilometer-long ork warship and continued searching for new targets.
The dying ork warship finally gave up its ghost.
Its massive body disintegrated enveloped in flames, the brilliant firelight once again illuminating the huge metal cloud, becoming part of the vast debris pile.
The remnants of the ork fleet made a difficult escape, with large amounts of metal debris obstructing their path.
The fragments of debris flying from the explosion of other warships possessed enormous kinetic energy, and if struck, a ship's hull could very likely be severed.
Hours later, there was not a single active ork warship within the massive metal cloud.
Even the few ork warships that had escaped were overtaken and destroyed by the Imperial fleet.
The metal clouds formed by the explosions of these warships quickly merged with the expanding large cloud, forming a silent tomb.
The ork space forces in the Ramillies system were quickly and completely eliminated after the reinforcements brought by Guilliman joined the battle.
As the last ork warship disintegrated in space, its brilliant flames declared the formal end of the space battle.
The orks on the ground were thrown into disarray.
They had lost all their space power.
This meant they had become lambs waiting to be slaughtered by the Humans.
There was no longer any trace of Humans on the planet Ramillies 1.
Ground combat was no longer necessary.
Guilliman directly issued an exterminatus, ordering the fleet to conduct an extinction-level bombardment of the surface.
After the exterminatus bombardment concluded, ground forces would enter to perform the final cleanup.
Using the new technology brought by Guilliman, reshaping the planet's life system was not difficult.
Even after an exterminatus, the ecological environment could be restored within twenty years.
Under the fleet's saturation bombardment, the planet Ramillies 1 became a complete dead zone.
Even bacteria and viruses were completely annihilated by the terrifying power of the Imperium.
When all the dust settled.
Chapter Master Argentius of the Silver Skulls and Admiral Iser boarded Macragge's Glory and were granted an audience with the Primarch.
They were arranged to wait in a large hall.
Argentius had his captains stand in a line, telling them to make their power armor as clean and tidy as possible.
He stood at the front, appearing somewhat nervous.
The Silver Skulls Chapter had never received a private audience with a Primarch before.
They had only seen the Primarch at his mustering.
They had never imagined that one day they would receive such a close audience.
Iser wasn't doing much better.
She, who wouldn't feel the slightest tremor when issuing an exterminatus, now appeared restless.
"I'm a little worried I might commit a faux pas in front of the Primarch," Iser said softly, standing beside Argentius. "That would truly be a very embarrassing thing for me. I hope I don't make such a basic mistake."
Iser stood beside Argentius; the height difference between them was like a child standing next to a giant.
She had to look up to talk to Argentius.
And Argentius had to look down to see Iser beside him.
"I'm not doing any better than you," Argentius said in a low voice. "I can feel my hands sweating. I'm more anxious than when facing Chaos traitors."
"What are you afraid of?" Iser asked with interest.
"I'm not afraid, I'm just worried the Primarch will scold me for being rude, and I'm also worried he might have forgotten who I am. That would be too disheartening. I fight so hard, yet my name is not even remembered."
Argentius said in a low voice; from his tone, one could feel that he was very serious about this.
When Iser heard his words, the slight unease in her heart disappeared, replaced by a smile.
She had worked with the Silver Skulls Chapter for a long time.
Before every battle, these guys were always mumbling something.
They would even perform Tarot readings.
Iser hadn't expected that they, who were so brave and fearless, would also have a day of unease.
"I thought you guys didn't know what fear was?" Iser shrugged, a rare hint of teasing in her tone.
"This is not fear, but respect for the Primarch," Argentius said.
"This is fear. Don't use other excuses to deny it. You're worried you've been forgotten by the Primarch, aren't you? After all, the Primarch has so much work. He manages the entire Imperium and also has to spare effort to formulate strategic plans and command battles."
"You're worried that you're insignificant, long ago regarded by the Primarch as a minor figure not worth remembering."
Iser looked at Argentius's profile; if it weren't for those shocking scars, he would definitely be very handsome.
Every space marine is very handsome; they inherited the charm of their gene-fathers.
These big guys were the fantasy lovers of how many noblewomen.
After all, a muscular, tall, imposing, and charming strong man...
Could always win the favor of noblewomen who had wealth but lacked satisfaction.
If they were willing to just beckon, many noblewomen in the Imperium would go crazy for it.
But to the sadness of many Imperial noblewomen, these tall and imposing warriors were never emotional, and were even unwilling to take a second look at their meticulously applied makeup and sexy figures.
They were cold and cruel, always maintaining rationality.
Isar once thought they would never be moved by anything, as cold as robots.
But now, she knew she was wrong.
They would be just as anxious as ordinary people, afraid of not gaining the Primarch's approval.
"Silver Skulls never fear. We are eternally loyal to the Emperor. For whatever reason, we will fight for the Primarch, even if the Primarch doesn't approve or remember us," Argentius said.
Just as Isar was about to say something more, a heavy footsteps sounded.
Many Ultramarines standing in the hall knelt down on one knee.
Argentius and his warriors also learned to kneel down on one knee in salute.
Isar turned her head to look and saw a tall figure walking in, surrounded by guards.
Seeing the other person's face, she quickly followed suit and knelt down on one knee in salute.
Isar's heart pounded wildly.
It felt like her heart would leap out the next second.
"Rise, no need for salutes," Guilliman's voice was very low and full of charm, making people unable to help but want to listen.
"You have achieved excellent results, Chapter Master Argentius and Lieutenant General Isar. You have perfectly executed my strategic arrangements. If not for your tactics, this victory would never have been so easily won."
Guilliman walked up to Argentius, helped him and Isar to their feet, patted their shoulder guards, and said with a smile.
"I also heard about your actions in the Yellaria System. You faithfully carried out my orders and rescued a group of enslaved Imperial civilians."
"Such actions make the people of the Imperium realize that my crusade is not merely to maintain the rule of the Imperium, but to protect the survival of humanity. I must express my sincere gratitude and commendation to you."
"Lord, this is our duty. It's not worthy of such praise from you," Argentius felt a surge of excitement in his heart when he heard the Primarch casually mention his name and achievements.
The achievements of the Silver Skulls were remembered by the Primarch.
"If such achievements and actions are not worthy of praise, then what in the many battles of the Indomitus Crusade is worthy of commendation? Commending those foolish politicians, or commending those greedy merchants??
"Doing the right thing in this world should be rewarded. That is what is right."
Guilliman patted Argentius's shoulder again, then turned and walked towards the main seat in the hall.
It was a huge marble chair, with the symbol of the Imperial Aquila carved on the backrest, and it was specially gilded, looking understated, luxurious, and restrained.
The chair was custom-made for the Primarch; ordinary people would never use such a large chair.
Guilliman sat down, like an ancient monarch sitting on his throne.
"Thank you for your praise," Argentius's face showed excitement.
He could feel the sincerity in the Primarch's words, and a strong sense of pride burned within him.
"You have made outstanding contributions to the Imperium, which is undeniable. After the orkish threat is completely dealt with, I will personally award you medals of honor."
Hearing this, Isar and Argentius smiled.
This was absolutely a supreme honor.
But before they could be happy for long, Guilliman, sitting in the main seat, continued.
"Of course, due to my busy schedule, I can only personally award medals to the ten Chapter Masters with the most outstanding achievements. For the others, the awards will be presented by others. I hope one of you will be among those ten.
Chapter Master Argentius, Lieutenant General Isar, tell me, are you afraid of competition? If you are afraid, I can make an exception and award you individually once?"
Guilliman looked at the two with a hint of teasing smile.
"No, Lord, the Silver Skulls are never inferior to others," Argentius stepped forward and said, "We will win that spot fair and square."
"Excellent," Guilliman smiled, "Then get ready. In three days, the fleet will set sail for the Charadon System. A full-scale attack on the Ork Warboss is expected in two weeks. Can you maintain your fighting spirit as always?"
"Yes, Lord, the fire of our battle will never be extinguished," Argentius said with unwavering determination.
"Then I look forward to your performance," Guilliman said with a smile.
**************
Macragge's Glory, Training Room.
Economist Ready stood outside the training cage.
She tried hard not to be so scared that she would run away.
To be honest, she really wanted to turn around and leave.
The training in the training cage was very brutal, just watching it was terrifying.
And inside the training cage, Phicris was undergoing training.
He was only wearing a piece of clothing covering his lower body, exposing his muscular upper body.
His bronze-colored muscles were like cast metal, with clear outlines, looking extremely visually striking.
His muscles perfectly matched every movement, indicating that Phykris' control over his body had reached an astonishing level.
As long as he was willing, he could unleash the power of this muscular body at any time, defeating all enemies with overwhelming force.
As Phicris clicked the rune button to confirm the training.
The cage door storing the combat servitor was slowly opened.
The servitor walking into the training ground looked sluggish and stiff, appearing so clumsy.
Its eyes looked dull and lifeless, and saliva was still dripping from the corner of its mouth.
This was a side effect of the combat stimm injected into its body by the brass device embedded in its back.
Half of the servitor's skull was replaced by steel, and its eyes were also replaced by mechanical bionic eyes.
One arm was injected with a large amount of growth stimm, enhanced to an inhuman degree.
The outline of those muscles was almost as thick as an ordinary person's waist.
Half of its elbow was also cut off, and a razor-sharp longsword was implanted.
The other arm was replaced with a mechanical one, and a circular saw was also installed.
Piston levers were added to its legs to provide stronger explosive power.
Reddy stood outside the training cage, watching Phicris activate the servitor.
With a surge of current, the servitor's body trembled.
The originally sluggish combat servitor instantly became a murderous machine, existing only to kill its opponent.
Before Reddy could react, the training servitor attacked Phicris.
The high-speed rotating saw blade cut through the air, making a series of harsh, tearing sounds.
Phicris swung his sword to block, and a series of sparks erupted.
The communication device implanted in the combat servitor's chest let out a beast-like roar.
After the saw blade was blocked, the servitor's other hand launched an attack.
The sharp sword embedded in its arm reflected a cold glint under the lights.
The servitor used its mechanical bionic eyes to lock onto Phicris' weak points and directly slashed at his arm.
The movements were fluid, fast, precise, and deadly, forming an absurd contrast with the previous slowness and numbness.
The servitor's eyes were no longer dull and silent, but filled with mechanical malice and killing intent.
Reddy's heart tightened in fear, and she unconsciously took a few steps back.
Such a brutal fight would surely take her life in an instant.
Phicris bent down to dodge this brutal strike, then thrust his sword towards the servitor's throat.
The longsword pierced the servitor's throat, signaling the end of the training.
It was very short.
The exchange between the two sides was only in the blink of an eye, and the life and death outcome was instantly decided.
The indicator light on the servitor went out, and oil and blood flowed down the longsword. Phicris didn't pay attention.
Chapter serfs would come to clean these things up.
Reddy looked at the kneeling, motionless servitor and couldn't help but wonder what terrible crime this guy had committed to meet such a terrible fate.
However, Reddy didn't care about this matter.
Enemies of the Emperor were never worthy of pity.
Phicris saw Reddy's arrival. He didn't continue to release new servitors but ended the training.
The iron door of the training cage slowly opened, and Phicris stepped out.
"I'm sorry to have disturbed you," Reddy handed him a towel.
"It's okay. How are the preparations going?" Phicris took the towel and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"I've contacted a top Imperial pastry chef. He's currently traveling from 500 light-years away. There's also a batch of excellent fine wines, all from my family's collection. Actually, I've never mentioned it, but my family specializes in winemaking. It's a pity I'm not interested in the family business, but I still managed to get some good wine."
"Thank you for your trouble," Phicris said with a smile, "If there's good wine, the wolves in the fleet might be excited about it."
"Now there's only one question. Do you know when we should celebrate the Primarch's birthday?" Reddy asked.
"I will figure this out. I've checked the date in some records. In the Great Crusade era, the day the Primarch was adopted by his foster parents was considered his birthday. If I estimate the time, it will probably be after the Ork Warboss is eliminated. If we don't get the exact date, when the Primarch holds a celebration, we can present it together."
Phicris said.
"That's good. Then I'll have people get ready," Reddy said.
Phicris nodded, "Go ahead. If you have any problems, come find me, and I'll help you solve them as much as possible."
"Understood, Lord Phicris."
Ready finished speaking and turned to leave.
Time passed.
Two weeks after the Battle of the Ramillies System.
Imperial ships gathered in the cold darkness on the periphery of the Charadon System.
They would launch a fatal blow against the Ork Warboss - The Arsonist.
At the gathering point, a large number of ships arrived through warp travel every moment.
They centered around the Macragge's Glory and waited for the final operational order.
The primaris space marines of each Chapter were also fully prepared.
The ork's outlying forces had been cleared.
Now, only the ork's main homeworld remained.
In the pre-battle meeting.
Corvo stood up from his seat and looked at the Primarch in the main seat.
"Lord, how will the ork's combat moon be dealt with? If a surprise attack is needed, the Novamarines are willing to be your vanguard."