In orbit, Alex's flagship slowly entered low-Earth orbit, its massive hull gleaming with a cold metallic luster under the sunlight.
Inside the bridge, a holographic tactical map unfolded in the center of the command console, revealing the situation on Kherson III at a glance—red enemy attack markers spread across the ice plain like a plague, while the blue light points representing the Blood Knights were gradually being swallowed.
"Kroak…" Alex's fingertips tapped rhythmically on the command console, his brows furrowed into a deep crease.
He had originally thought this was just an ordinary greenskin disturbance, but now it seemed the situation was far more severe than imagined.
On the tactical map, the prominently marked ice-sealed ruin pulsed with a dazzling red light, like a ticking time bomb about to explode.
The staff officers stood by, holding their breath, having never seen the Governor display such a solemn expression.
Alex's gaze was fixed on the blurry giant shadow in the holographic image—even through thick layers of ice, the oppressive aura emanating from that green body sent shivers down one's spine.
"Give the order!" Alex suddenly roared, his voice cutting through the silence of the bridge like a drawn sword: "All fleet firepower, concentrate bombardment on the ruin coordinates!"
His order caused a stir on the bridge, but it was quickly drowned out by more urgent commands.
The gunnery officer swiftly operated the control panel; the Macro Cannon arrays began adjusting their firing angles, and the hum of torpedo tubes charging echoed through the deck.
The staff officer hesitated before stepping forward: "Governor, the bombardment might accidentally harm the Blood Knights."
"Chapter Master Yorl knows what to do," Alex's voice was as cold as the polar winds of Kherson III: "For the Emperor, sacrifice is inevitable."
These words struck everyone like a heavy hammer—they all knew that when an Inquisitor uttered such words, it meant the situation was so critical that a painful price had to be paid.
And this was also what the Blood Knights desired.
Alex's gaze swept over the blood-soaked red markers on the tactical map, those proud warriors who would never accept a shameful retreat.
What they craved was a glorious sacrifice grand enough to cleanse their dishonor, and now, fate had given them that chance.
On the ice plain, a blizzard howled, carrying the embers of plasma cannons.
The Blood Knights had suffered over fifty percent casualties; Chapter Master Yorl's Power Armor was extensively damaged, its servo systems emitting a strained whine, and blood dripped from the seams of his faceplate, instantly freezing into blood crystals in the low temperature.
But he still stood on the front line, the banner of Sanguinius flapping behind him, its blood-stained wing decorations trembling violently in the fierce wind.
"Chapter Master! The eastern defense line has collapsed!" A hoarse roar came through the communicator, immediately cut off by an explosion.
Yorl looked up and saw five Blood Knights being engulfed by a tide of ancient greenskins; their Chainsword were still making their final slashes, and the roar of their Bolters sounded like the wails of dying beasts.
Suddenly, the sky lit up with dazzling fire—it was not the dawn, but the prelude to death.
The orbital bombardment had begun.
Yorl's pupils behind his faceplate abruptly contracted; the bombardment warning flashing on his tactical HUD almost scorched his retina.
He looked up and saw countless burning meteors piercing through the clouds, tearing through the dark night sky.
Those were the flames generated by the fleet's Macro Cannon shells frictioning in the atmosphere, raining down like divine punishment.
The incandescent white trails dragged by each shell illuminated the blizzard as bright as day.
"Everyone, find cover!" Yorl roared into the comms channel, his voice like thunder.
But he himself charged towards the Warlord, his Power Armor joints groaning under the strain.
The three-meter-tall monster was swinging a crackling power klaw, the electricity coiling around its head ionizing the surrounding snow into an eerie blue mist.
Foul breath spewed from its tusks, and its yellow-green skin was covered with battle scars, each telling of countless bloody massacres.
Someone had to stop it!
Otherwise, this beast would tie down all the Blood Knights, leaving them to be obliterated in the orbital bombardment.
The Blood Knights craved sacrifice, but never meaningless annihilation.
Yorl gripped his Chainsword tightly with both hands; the high-speed whirring of the saw teeth intertwined with the crackling of the power klaw's electricity.
The moment the two weapons collided, the bursting energy shockwave instantly vaporized the snow for a hundred meters around, revealing the permafrost below.
The shockwave even knocked over several nearby greenskin boys who were fighting, their bodies thrown into the air like rags.
"WAAAGH!!" The Warlord roared, bringing its power klaw down again.
Yorl dodged sideways, the klaw grazing his shoulder plate, sparks erupting on his ceramite armor.
He seized the opportunity to counter with a backhand swing; the Chainsword's teeth bit savagely into the Ork's thick arm, green flesh and metal fragments splattering everywhere.
But the Warlord's brute strength far exceeded imagination.
It roared and delivered a knee strike, directly hitting Yorl's chest plate.
The Power Armor's internal cushioning layers instantly deformed; Yorl felt the excruciating pain of fractured ribs, and blood seeped from his clenched jaw.
"Human runt… Die!" The Warlord grinned, raising its power klaw again.
Yorl did not flinch.
He sharply lowered his center of gravity, his power pack jetting out a blazing blue exhaust, and he slammed into the Ork like a cannonball.
The Chainsword slashed upwards diagonally, its teeth tearing through the greenskin's thick chest plate; foul blood splattered onto Yorl's faceplate, staining his tactical display blood red.
"For Sanguinius!" Yorl's roar, mixed with blood, burst from between his teeth.
The Warlord staggered backward, looking incredulously at the massive wound on its chest.
It tried to raise its power klaw for a final strike, but then heard a deathly shriek from the sky—the first Macro Cannon shell was already upon them.
The next second, orbital bombardment covered the entire ruin.
Incandescent fireballs engulfed Yorl and the Warlord together, and the explosion's shockwave threw up dozens of meters of earth from the permafrost.
The ice within several kilometers vaporized in the high temperature, and the ancient ruin's metal structures melted like wax.
The first shell directly hit the Warlord's back, engulfing it and Yorl in a blazing white fireball.
Immediately after, hundreds of more shells rained down like divine punishment; the permafrost, frozen for millennia, vaporized in the high temperature, and the ancient ruin's metal structures melted like wax.
The shockwave of the explosion even overturned Chimera armored vehicles several kilometers away; the entire world trembled in the roar of destruction.
Before his last consciousness faded, Yorl seemed to see Sanguinius reaching out to him in the firelight.
The Chapter Master closed his eyes contentedly, allowing the flames to consume him and his archenemy together—this was precisely the ending a Blood Knight dreamed of.
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