Chapter 184: Sister-in-Law!
Francis watched the scene unfold with complete bewilderment. The greenskins appeared capable of transmitting their thoughts directly to one another, a disturbing coordination that defied conventional understanding.
As he pondered this impossibility, Ork vessels screamed through the melee around him, and hundreds of Ork warriors bearing lightsabers leaped directly into Adeptus Mechanicus warships with savage enthusiasm.
They howled "Waaaaaaaagh!" while brandishing their shining weapons high.
"I am Ork Power!" An Ork Boy, wielding a green lightsaber, hacked wildly through a corridor, imitating a human accent as he roared with primal fury.
His blade slashed fiercely at the armored leg of a Degraded Iron Man, releasing a piercing "sizzle" of energy. Though it didn't sever the limb completely, it successfully unbalanced the corrupted war machine, sending it crashing to the deck.
"I feel the call of the Light! Oh no, it's the call of Mork!" Another Ork, dual-wielding lightsabers, leaped onto the head of a Degraded Iron Man and drove them downward with terrible force.
Some Ork Boyz even made exaggerated gestures dramatically, shouting, "Waaaaaaaagh Power is here!"
"Power!!"
Then an unseen force grabbed a Degraded Iron Man, continuously hurling it out of the warship into the void of space.
...
Meanwhile, a violent explosion rocked the deck, and Kelbor-Hal pushed himself to his feet, shaking off the tremor. He froze when he saw a group of Orks soaring through space itself, armed with lightsabers.
Were these... Orks? What possessed them to fight with such incredible determination, their eyes burning with purpose?
As for the other Orks, they swam freely through the vacuum, dragging salvage from the wreckage of Adeptus Mechanicus vessels with brutal efficiency.
Wielding massive wrenches and crude welding torches, they haphazardly assembled bizarre new machines from the salvage.
Some of the already-substantial Ork Moons grew covered with various Adeptus Mechanicus components grafted to their hulls.
Kelbor-Hal stared in silence. "..."
The battle was turning rapidly against him. For every warship the Orks captured, he lost one. Engaging these green-skinned improvisers in space combat had become an overwhelming disadvantage.
"Release the scramble virus! Completely destroy their devices and let these green skins taste the wrath of the Adeptus Mechanicus!" Kelbor-Hal barked, gripping his control staff tightly.
A sharp mechanical sound echoed through the bridge, and the chaotic electronic virus spread toward the Ork fleet with fearsome speed.
If the enemy systems were infected, their warships would turn to useless scrap metal.
But the moment the virus made contact with the Ork devices, the cobbled-together machines showed no reaction whatsoever.
The monitoring data revealed something far worse: the virus wasn't ineffective—it was being devoured, transformed into an even more chaotic signal stream by the Orks' crude tech.
"Report! Virus ineffective!" a Tech-Priest called out. Another voice cried out in shock at the readings.
Kelbor-Hal's brows furrowed deeply. His face darkened with realization.
This was impossible. In theory, no Adeptus Mechanicus device should withstand this electronic virus completely.
Until he saw, through the screen, an Ork Boy stuffing a Gretchin into a device, making it control the machinery manually with raw strength and savage ingenuity.
Kelbor-Hal stared in disbelief. "...."
So the opponent didn't rely on a machine spirit at all. They used purely manual operation... no wonder the virus had failed.
...
In the Warp itself, Guilliman gazed at the familiar twisted landscape before him, knowing the storm had cast him back to his starting position once again.
"Sigh~" He released a long, helpless sigh of frustration.
Suddenly.
Peru, Peru~ The Ork phone rang again, and Konrad Curze's voice came through.
"Uh, I'm done here. The Orks have all scattered elsewhere. You don't need to come here." Hearing this news, Guilliman suddenly looked up, his face falling into irritation.
"Alright.....Then I'll return to Ultramar," he replied with barely concealed exasperation.
Konrad Curze fell silent for a moment, then said hesitantly, "Uh, actually, something's happened on Terra again. If you can make it, you should go to Terra to quell the Adeptus Mechanicus rebellion."
Guilliman frowned deeply and quickly ordered with sharp authority, "All fleet! Turn around. Proceed to Terra immediately."
He couldn't help but hold his forehead in frustration and sighed heavily. The Imperium was truly beset by endless wars and calamities.
The flagship began its course correction, and the fleet adjusted heading, preparing to break through the Warp storm.
However, as the fleet advanced, the void ahead suddenly surged with intense psychic disturbances.
Within the chaotic ripples of the Warp, the outline of a massive fleet gradually appeared. Dazzling golden-red light pierced the surrounding darkness, and familiar insignia emerged on the hull designs.
Guilliman froze momentarily, then his eyes widened in recognition.
Those were Blood Angels warships. And the main vessel at the front of the formation was clearly Sanguinius's flagship.
The Ork phone rang again. This time, Captain Raldoron's deep voice spoke through. "Lord Roboute, is that you?"
Guilliman snapped to attention, visibly confused. "Why are you here? Where is Sanguinius?"
"My apologies, unfortunately, Primarch has entered slumber, and as for us, we're also lost within this maelstrom," Raldoron replied.
Hearing this, Guilliman's concern deepened. One lost fleet was unfortunate. Two fleets lost was a troubling pattern.
"Listen to me. Open the nearest exit immediately!" he commanded.
The Navigators worked swiftly, searching for the nearest egress point. With a deafening tearing sound, the Warp around both fleets was ripped open by a massive fissure, and they emerged into realspace together.
When the fleets stabilized in realspace, they found themselves in an unfamiliar star system.
"We appear to be in the Tal system now, still a considerable distance from Terra," an officer reported.
Guilliman was about to order a course correction when the bridge's holographic projection suddenly flared to life, displaying a scene of chaos below.
Above the planet Algana, dozens of warships clashed in fierce combat. Some of these vessels bore no resemblance to Imperial standard designs.
"Report, Primarch! An alien fleet is invading planet Algana! Intense fighting rages on the ground. The xenos are slaughtering indiscriminately, humans and daemons both," an officer reported urgently.
Guilliman narrowed his eyes, calculating inwardly. When he spoke, his voice was low and firm. "Navigators, your priority is to contact the Elders and find a way back to Terra."
The Navigators nodded in understanding. This matter was strange indeed, and they needed guidance from the ancestral knowledge of their libraries.
Guilliman turned to face the officer with quiet determination. "Order the fleet: prepare for battle. Not an inch of Imperial territory can be touched by foreign enemies, even if this is not Terra."
The fleet quickly entered battle readiness. Massive Imperial warships adjusted their weapon arrays, orienting toward the planet Algana below.
Whether alien or daemon forces assailed that world, it mattered not. As long as Guilliman commanded here, he would protect the glory of the Imperium.
When Guilliman's fleet reached orbit around Algana, the communications officer's terminal suddenly chimed. A clear, measured voice cut through the solemn silence of the bridge, elegant and authoritative, utterly alien to human perception.
"This is an Aeldari emissary communicating to the Imperial fleet. On behalf of our people, I convey an important message. We are not your enemies. This planet has been invaded by daemons."
"We are eliminating the daemonic forces and attempting to seal the rifts." An Aeldari warrior's image gradually appeared on the projection screen. She was clad in ornate spirit armor, her hair flowing like silver light, surrounded by a faint psychic aura.
Guilliman's gaze remained stern and wary. He did not immediately respond. Instead, he signaled the bridge crew to strengthen their defensive formations.
His voice emerged cold and measured. "All I observe is your fleet destroying Imperial colonies."
The Aeldari woman bowed her head slightly, seeming to suppress her emotions. When she spoke again, her voice carried careful control.
"Your human prejudice has always been so stubborn, but I lack the time to argue philosophy with you. I am here because of something far more critical. The anomalies you cannot comprehend are tearing reality apart." She waved her hand, and the holographic display shifted to show the planet's surface.
Chaos energy poured from rifts, devouring the land itself. Countless daemons swarmed from these tears in reality, overwhelming the remaining Imperial defenders who fought with desperate valor but were clearly at an absolute disadvantage.
"These daemons are not mere Warp entities. Their manifestation pattern is..." The Aeldari woman's tone carried urgency beneath her controlled demeanor.
Guilliman waved his hand dismissively, his voice filled with immense pride. "We humans also possess experts in these matters. One of them understands everything you speak of."
As he spoke, he retrieved the Ork phone, its surface covered in watching eyes, and dialed the number.
Peru~ Peru~
At that moment, Francis was tearing apart a Degraded Iron Man with his bare hands. The sensation was incredibly satisfying, like trimming a horse's hooves.
Rip Rip "So satisfying!"
Just then, an Ork Boy handed him the Ork phone bearing a crude 'U' marking.
"Hello? Guilliman! Is it you? It's, you right, OH man, you should be here, where are you wasting your time, What's going on?" Francis answered casually.
Guilliman paused. "....."
He detected not a trace of refinement from Francis, but that wasn't the immediate concern. He spoke with urgent intensity. "Francis, I've encountered a situation where daemons are constantly emerging from rifts. A xeno named ... well, an Aeldari representative told me it's very dangerous here."
"If left unchecked, she said it will completely tear reality apart. Do you have any knowledge of this?"
Francis tore apart another Degraded Iron Man with a backhand motion, pondered briefly, and continued speaking.
"Ah! So it's the sister-in-law who's arrived! You should have said so earlier! The sister-in-law is absolutely right! You must handle this carefully!"
"I believe in you two. With both husband and wife united in heart, their strength can cut through metal. You must solve this together." Francis's voice boomed loudly and resonantly. Even the Aeldari emissary on the other end of the communication heard it clearly!
The Aeldari warrior looked deeply confused. "???"
Sister-in-law? What sister-in-law? She didn't quite understand what he was saying at all!
"!!!"
Guilliman was dumbfounded. Francis was simply... utterly outrageous!
For a moment, he couldn't think of anything to say. His face cycled rapidly through shades, red to purple, purple to white.
What an outrageous thing to say!
Francis..Oh, Francis..you little... is this how his friends on Macragge felt when they complained about their younger siblings...
"Sighh~~"
However, he still carefully looked at the other party on the screen...
[End of Chapter]
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