The Imperial Glory sailed out of the magnificent port of Lycard Space Station, a picture of Imperial might.
The massive battleship adjusted its position in low-Earth orbit, its stern thrusters ejecting plumes of brilliant azure plasma.
Daniel sat in the Captain's iron throne, surveying the entire bridge. Holographic projections shimmered on either side of the command seat, and the embedded computing servitors in the metal table and walls made a noisy, rhythmic ticking sound.
"Expected to enter the designated orbital coordinates in thirteen minutes."
Wojack, who was manning the power director's station, shouted the update. Wojack holds dual doctoral degrees and is a quick study. He hadn't seen much real combat since joining the the game; instead, he'd been closely following his good friend, Fred, diligently learning how to operate this massive Gloriana-class battleship.
Now, he'd been entrusted with the crucial role of power director.
"Ground forces sent us the coordinates of the hostile target."
As Fred spoke, the data projection in front of Daniel refreshed. The entire Tyrian Hive was displayed, with the enemy-occupied areas clearly marked in glaring red.
"Order all macro-cannon batteries to standby, charge the Lance arrays, and lock onto ground coordinate A-01: 40°42'51.67" N, 74° 0'21.50" W."
Daniel, imitating the starship captains from the videos he'd watched, delivered the command.
Throughout the battleship, the various teams sprang into action according to his orders. On the gun deck, naval officers urged the sailors to calibrate the macro-cannons.
Tech-Priests monitored the reactor output, precisely controlling the energy flow to charge the Lance arrays. The surrounding mechanical servants chanted a loud chorus of "Praise the Omnissiah" as they worked.
"++Coordinate A-01 locked: 40°42'51.67" N, 74° 0'21.50" W++"
"++Calculating bombardment trajectory, awaiting subroutine feedback++"
The computing machine servitor beside the throne vibrated, repeating Daniel's commands. The projection continued to update, and a red "death lasso" icon, representing the bombardment radius, appeared on the holographic map.
"++Macro Cannons Loaded++"
"++Lance Array Charged++"
Green indicator icons popped up on the screen one after another as the computing machine announced the readiness status.
"This is a day I won't soon forget, because I'm calling the shots for the first time," Daniel thought, and then gave the final order.
"Pass the word to all troops: brace for impact."
"Once the orbital bombardment is complete, immediately launch the airborne operation to send those traitors straight to hell."
"Now initiate orbital bombardment. Bring the wrath of the God-Emperor down upon those traitors. Let the skies and earth burn."
"We'll be able to secure this planet soon and dedicate it to the Great Nurgle," the Chaos priest declared to a group of devout believers in the ruins. "We'll turn this world into a beautiful garden, spreading the generosity of a loving father so everyone can find happiness."
"The Corpse King's filthy kingdom will inevitably collapse, crumbling into ruins and becoming the fertilizer for our garden."
A cultist, marked with a Chaos symbol carved into his forehead, said nervously, "But I heard they've been getting backup from a guy they call 'The Guide'..."
"No matter who helps them, they are doomed to fail," the Chaos Priest replied, his voice filled with false compassion. "They worship the Corpse King and refuse to see the truth of the universe."
"And the truth is the most powerful thing in the universe; no one can stop it."
"But I also heard they have a Gloriana-class battleship," another cultist interjected, sounding uneasy, "and they've already taken back Lycard Space Station."
The Chaos Priest smiled and pointed to the sky, trying to reassure the anxious faithful. "Even if they have warships, the power of the loving father will shield us."
A believer instinctively followed the priest's hand and looked up. Dark clouds obscured the sun, casting a dismal gray pall over the world.
Suddenly, a section of the clouds began to brighten—rapidly.
"What in the world is that?" the believer asked, bewildered.
Hearing him, the other believers all craned their necks skyward. The Chaos Priest looked up, too, a puzzled expression on his face.
The next second, a column of light, like a descending tower, shot down from the heavens.
Boom!
The beam struck the ground right where their main artillery position was located. The massive stockpile of ammunition piled there detonated instantly. The entire position was consumed by a continuous firestorm of explosions.
The cultists and wandering Plague Zombies nearby were vaporized. Dirt and scorched flesh were swept skyward by the colossal shockwave before raining down like sleet.
Immediately following, aerial bombs began to shriek down. Bright mushroom clouds bloomed one after another. The terrifying shockwave rolled out like a massive tidal wave in every direction.
The Chaos Priest stared at the oncoming inferno and screamed in despair: "Father!"
The next second, the flames entirely engulfed him. His soul plunged into a rotting, desolate garden, only to be torn to shreds by hungry demons.
"The Emperor's wrath falls upon those who betray Him!"
"Praise the Emperor, whose messengers bring salvation!"
On the top floor of the Tyrian Hive, Governor-General Fax, Bishop Hydrak, and other high-ranking officials watched the orbital bombardment with immense satisfaction, praising the Emperor. The entire outer city was ablaze. Without the protection of a Void Shield, the rebels were nothing but sitting ducks against the Gloriana-class battleship.
"A liar who blasphemed the Omnissiah." Magos Koro of the Mechanicus spoke with a cold, mechanical voice.
Fax glanced at him, then looked at his subordinate nearby. The subordinate gave a slight nod, indicating everything was in place.
Fax then turned his attention back to the raging battle in the outer city, his mind now at ease.
To be frank, he hadn't wanted to take this action right now. But Magos Koro was so pedantic and stubborn, turning a blind eye to the holiness and blessing of that 'saint' Daniel.
If Koro were allowed to live, he would surely cause more problems down the line. It was better to have him do what the saint was unwilling to do. Helping that saint solve his problems was a demonstration of loyalty.
Magos Koro would, at least, get a decent end.
The decks of the Imperial Glory echoed with a cacophony of sound. All teams were running around, gearing up for the imminent airborne operation.
The new players, who had just finished basic training, were gathered together. Several industrial servitors were distributing weapons and equipment to them, while also keeping track of the contribution points they now owed.
Weapons and equipment weren't free; they were loaned to the players. After killing enemies, completing missions, and earning contribution points, they could repay the loan—with interest.
Magos Theresa, Faraday, and others were stunned by this setup. These people had to take out loans just to arm themselves before going into battle, yet they had zero complaints. No wonder they became the God-Emperor's Saints. Such loyalty was truly touching.
"Finally, a combat mission! I've had enough of the daily grind, moving corpses and cleaning duty." Daigo looked at the laser gun he'd been issued with palpable anticipation.
"We're so eager to rush onto the battlefield and act as cannon fodder. We really are too loyal to the old man," joked Garry, who was sitting across from Daigo.
"Only loyalty lets us level up," chimed in Rigby. "How else are we supposed to earn contribution points and trade for better gear if we're not loyal?"
Just then, Daniel's voice boomed from the speakers embedded in the pillars and walls. "Orbital bombardment complete. Prepare for airborne drop."
"For the Emperor, for glory!" Rigby shouted, his voice amplified through his exoskeleton armor's speakers.
"For the Emperor!"
"For the Omnissiah!"
"For the Horde!"
"For Noxus!"
"For the Great Secret Treasure!"
The other players followed suit, cheering, though their rallying cries were... unconventional.
"Lift off! In the name of the God-Emperor, let's go get some kills, guys!" Blood Dove started the Valkyrie's engine with a roar.
The fuselage's tail thrusters ejected a brilliant blue plasma. The heavy deck was lowered, and the transport boats and fighter planes slid along the runway, launching from the battleship and flying toward the magnificent planet below.
The outer city of Tyrian Hive had been completely reduced to rubble. Countless cultists and Plague Zombies were obliterated, with charred remains and limbs scattered everywhere.
Kras, a rebel commander, crawled out from a collapsed building. He was completely shell-shocked as he surveyed the bomb-cratered, scorched battlefield.
"Regroup quickly! The Corpse King's minions are bound to counterattack!" he yelled at the surviving cultists.
At that moment, the roar of engines filled the sky. Several Valkyries and transport boats appeared in the cultists' view. Their mounted machine guns unleashed another barrage of fire on the ground. Many cultists who had just clawed their way out of the debris were shot dead on the spot.
After eliminating the exposed enemies, the transport boats roared to a landing. With a hiss of high-pressure gas, the hydraulic hatches opened. Imperial soldiers wearing exoskeletons marched out, heading into the ruins to clear out the remaining cultists.
"Praise be to the Omnissiah!"
Rigby controlled his heavily equipped Tomorrow III exoskeleton armor as he landed. His shouted praise, accompanied by the resounding blast of war horns, echoed across the battlefield.