However, Raynor also had to admire Dominic's military talent.
From the moment they arrived at Karl-2, all the command deployments had been arranged by Dominic personally. Hiding the main fleet for an ambush, using decoy craft to pin down the Evil Sunz's main force, dispatching Raynor's fleet to guard against a Blood Axe flanking maneuver, and finally utilizing Karl-2 as a shield to "peek" at the Greenskins. Every step struck precisely at the Greenskins' vital points.
Without Dominic, Raynor's own fleet alone would likely be locked in a bitter struggle by now.
Raynor raised his wine glass and took a small sip of the red wine. The mellow fragrance of the liquid spread across his tongue, but no joy reached his heart. He looked at Dominic's young, handsome, and confident face. Deep in his gaze, a flicker of undetectable, icy killing intent flashed.
Dominic was too exceptional. He was so brilliant that Raynor felt a sense of threat. He not only possessed a prestigious lineage and commanded heavy forces but was also brave, strategic, and clear-headed.
Although Dominic's impression of Raynor was steadily improving—his favorability almost reaching a positive value—Raynor knew this was all predicated on Dominic being ignorant of his secrets. If the day ever came when Dominic discovered his relationship with the Tyranids or learned of Sarah's existence, this ally, who was currently drinking wine and discussing tactics with him, would instantly become his most terrifying enemy. Given Dominic's capabilities and resources, once he set his mind to being an enemy, he would surely cause immense trouble.
Raynor's fingers instinctively tightened around the wine glass. He made a silent decision in his heart. If Dominic ever discovered the secret of himself and Sarah, then no matter the cost, Dominic must be eliminated.
This man must not be allowed to remain!
Just then, Geth's excited voice crackled through the communicator: "Governor, Lord Dominic! The Goff clan has lost over half its strength! The Greenskin vanguard is on the verge of collapse!"
Dominic set down his wine glass, stood up, and walked to the main control screen. Watching the shattered remains of the Greenskin vanguard fleet, a confident smile appeared on his face.
"Excellent!"
Dominic immediately questioned the radar officer. Upon learning that the Deathskull and Bad Moon fleets, along with the Anna, were only ten thousand kilometers away from Karl-2, Dominic immediately issued his command:
"Pass my orders: All capital ships maintain formation. Shift primary targets to the Greenskin heavy-hitter fleet in the rear."
Raynor marveled inwardly. Dominic's danger level in his mind rose another notch. He had thought the man was merely young and aggressive, but his combat style was so seasoned and ruthless. As an enemy, he would be very troublesome.
Ragnar's thick palms gripped the edge of his Great Pot throne so hard the metal groaned. His round body leaned forward, small eyes fixed on the blinking light icons on the main screen. Beads of sweat mixed with yellow grease seeped from his forehead.
He had originally thought that after the Goff vanguard collapsed, the "humie" fleet hiding behind Karl-2 would be unable to resist the urge to charge out from cover, attempting to crush his main force in one stroke. It was only human nature. If he were in their shoes, he would have seized such a golden opportunity to pursue a retreating foe.
As long as the human fleet dared to leave the protection of Karl-2, Ragnar was confident he could use his superior numbers to surround them. If even one ship managed a successful boarding action, he believed he could take the victory. To this end, he had secretly ordered the Deathskull and Bad Moon fleets to prepare to pincer the humans from both sides the moment they showed their heads.
It was a meticulously laid trap. But he never expected the opponent wouldn't take the bait.
The human fleet remained behind Karl-2, stationary. Their formation didn't even shift. They simply changed the targets of their concentrated fire from the broken Goff remnants to the Greenskin main fleet in the middle section.
Shoom! Shoom!
The lances and macro-cannons of the Gemstone roared tirelessly. Every lethal lance strike dealt massive damage to the Greenskin fleet. A Deathskull heavy cruiser that had just charged within eight thousand kilometers of Karl-2 had its engine room struck by three lances simultaneously. The violent explosion tore the cruiser in two. The burning wreckage tumbled through space, colliding with a nearby escort ship and triggering another chain of explosions.
"Zog it! Zog it! Zog it!"
Ragnar slammed his fist into the edge of the iron pot, leaving a deep dent in the heavy metal. He had lost the second round of this tactical match. The opponent was like a seasoned hunter, always maintaining a safe distance and using the most efficient methods to bleed his forces dry. Meanwhile, he could only watch helplessly as his ships were destroyed one by one.
"Where did this old fox come from?! So sneaky!" Ragnar hissed through gritted teeth, his shame turning into rage. He had thought the human commander was just a slightly clever brat, but the opponent's tactical discipline and patience far exceeded his expectations. This feeling of punching a cloud made him feel like he was going to explode.
"Boss! Should we call the Blood Axes back? We can group up and break through from the front!" a Deathskull Nob suggested cautiously.
"Get lost!" Ragnar snapped his head around, glaring viciously. "Is it too late to group up now?!"
The Deathskull Nob shrank his neck back, not daring to speak again. The bridge fell into a dead silence, broken only by the alarms of destroyed ships and the muffled thuds of distant macro-cannon fire. All the Greenskins lowered their heads, afraid to even breathe loudly. They could feel the boss's fury overflowing. No one wanted to be the target of his temper.
Ragnar took a deep breath, trying to suppress his anger. He knew throwing a fit wouldn't solve anything. He had to calm down and find a way to break the deadlock. But the more he tried to be calm, the more frustrated he became. A nameless fire raged in his chest, making his throat dry and his stomach howl with hunger.
"Bacon! Get me the Bacon!" Ragnar roared.
"Yes, Boss!" Several boyz scrambled out of the room.
Soon, they pushed a massive dining cart back in. On the cart were three giant pots, ten meters in diameter. They were filled with steaming, fragrant Bacon stew. The thick broth bubbled, and large chunks of Squig meat and mushrooms tumbled in the liquid, releasing an enticing aroma. This was food specially prepared for Ragnar by the Mad Dok cooks. It was supposed to last him the whole day.
Ragnar didn't bother with a spoon; he reached out with his massive hands, grabbed a huge fistful of Bacon, and stuffed it into his mouth.
Slurp... Gulp...
He ate ravenously, making loud swallowing sounds. The scalding stew burned his mouth, but he didn't care. Only through this binge-eating could he suppress the rage and anxiety in his heart. Mouthful after mouthful, his maw was like a bottomless pit, devouring the stew at a frenzied pace.
The surrounding Greenskins watched in awe. They knew their boss had a terrifying appetite, but every time they saw Ragnar in a feeding frenzy, they couldn't help but be shocked. In just ten minutes, the first pot was empty. Then the remaining two. Three massive pots of Bacon were wiped clean in less than half an hour. Not a drop of broth remained.
"Not enough! Still not enough!" Ragnar licked the grease from his lips and bellowed, "Go get more! Get me more Bacon!"
"Boss, there's... there's no more..." a Gretchin said, trembling with fear. "All of today's Bacon is here. The boyz are still brewing more, but it'll take a while..."
"Useless! You're all useless!" Ragnar slapped the Gretchin, sending him flying across the room. "Can't even get some Bacon ready—what good are you to me?!"
He felt his stomach was still hollow. That intense hunger hadn't vanished; instead, it grew stronger. However, his head began to feel dizzy. Everything before his eyes blurred. The alarms and the roar of cannons seemed to drift further away. Only that familiar, enticing aroma of Bacon lingered at the tip of his nose.
At that moment, the iconic Great Pot throne beneath his rear underwent a strange transformation. The Bacon inside, which had already cooled and solidified, began to bubble and churn once more. The thick brown broth surged, gradually coalescing into a blurred human face. The face had a massive mouth and tiny eyes, wearing a mocking smile.
This was a secret that had accompanied Ragnar ever since he first invented the magical food known as Bacon. Whenever he was under immense pressure, emotionally agitated, or consumed an unnaturally large amount of Bacon, this phenomenon would occur.
The first time it happened, he was startled. He thought he was hallucinating. But when the Bacon in the pot began to speak and could answer his questions, he realized he could communicate with the Great Pot. Furthermore, the "face" inside the pot always granted him power and luck that defied common sense.
One victory after another proved that he truly seemed to have the protection of the "Bacon God." Although deep down Ragnar still worshipped Gork and Mork and never publicized this matter, he knew very well that he owed his current status to this mysterious pot.
The Gretchins and bodyguards on the Anna had long since grown accustomed to their boss occasionally talking to himself while facing the pot. They knew that at times like this, no matter what crazy actions the boss took, they just had to follow orders. Asking too many questions only led to a faster death.
"Yo, Ragnar, your gut has grown another circle," the Bacon God inside the pot spoke, its voice sly like a mischievous child.
"I don't have a 'gut.' This is a stomach pouch, a big stomach pouch," Ragnar said dismissively. He reached down to lift the soft mass of fat in front of him, correcting the entity solemnly. "This is a symbol of the strong. Only the mightiest Greenskins can possess such a massive stomach pouch."
"Hahaha, a symbol of the strong? More like a symbol of a glutton," the Bacon God burst into laughter. The broth in the pot churned violently, splashing grease everywhere. "If you keep eating like this, one day you'll be too fat for even a mecha to carry, and you'll eventually be crushed to death by your own weight."
"That sounds fine too," Ragnar said optimistically. "Eat when it's time to eat, drink when it's time to drink. Don't take things to heart. If I have to go, I hope I die from overeating."
"Heh, what a fool," the Bacon God sneered. "I don't think you'll live long enough to die of overeating. If you don't find a way out soon, those 'humies' who keep screaming 'In the Emperor's name' are going to light you up like a firework. Tsk tsk tsk... look at all that fat. Trust me, you'll be a spectacular sight when you burn, hahahaha!"
The Bacon God's continuous mockery finally pricked Ragnar's nerves. The optimism on his face vanished instantly, replaced by undeniable anger and humiliation.
"Shut your mouth!" Ragnar slammed his hand onto the Great Pot throne with a loud clang. "Tell me, what do I have to do for you to help me get rid of those damned humies?"
He rarely used such a tone with the Bacon God. But this war—he had to win it.
"Heh, you should have said so earlier," the Bacon God laughed triumphantly. "The usual rules. But the situation is different this time. The opponent's strength is greater than anyone you've faced before. So, the price goes up."
"How much?" Ragnar asked in a low voice.
"One-half," the Bacon God said. "Give me half of your Ultimate Perfection Bacon, and I'll help you win this war. Isn't that a bargain?"
"What? One-half?! You're robbing me!" Ragnar's eyes widened. "It used to be one-third at most. This time you want half?! No, absolutely not."
Every Greenskin on Dolido knew their boss, Ragnar, kept a hoard of "Ultimate Perfection Bacon." That was Ragnar's lifeblood. That pot of Bacon had been simmering since the very day Ragnar first tasted the dish. Inside were the collected essences of every powerful opponent he had encountered in his life. There were Greenskin Warlords he had decapitated, Imperial commanders he had defeated, and various powerful xenos he had conquered. Every individual worthy of entering that pot was a true powerhouse.
The grease used for the simmer was the highest grade "Golden Grease," extracted from the mightiest Cave Squigs bred by the Snakebite Clan. From a Cave Squig as strong as a small mountain, only two ounces of Golden Grease could be refined. The mushrooms used were only the first-growth sprouts harvested right after the spores were scattered—the most tender and nutritious.
That pot of Bacon was kept on a permanent low simmer, having been brewed for over two full years. It was rumored that even the scrawniest lad could instantly become a massive "Big Un" after just one bite. Ragnar himself only dared to taste a single spoonful a day. He felt the loss of that pot would be the end of him.
Now, the Bacon God wanted half. It was practically asking for his life.
"Do you think you're in any position to negotiate?" The Bacon God's tone turned cold instantly. The broth in the pot became pitch black and viscous. "Look at how bad your situation is. More than half of Dolido's warships are here. You have no path of retreat. If you lose this war, you won't just lose your fleet—you'll lose your prestige on Dolido. When that happens, countless Big Uns will jump out to challenge your position. Do you think you'll still be able to keep your pot of Ultimate Perfection Bacon? Who knows, maybe you'll be chopped into mincemeat yourself and added to the pot."
The Bacon God's words, one by one, stabbed into Ragnar's deepest insecurities.
In reality, even if Ragnar lost this war, given his current prestige and strength, no Greenskin on Dolido could truly threaten his position. After all, Iron-Claw Chandler had died at his hands. But Ragnar was, in truth, extremely sensitive and had a deep-seated inferiority complex. Since he was a child, he had been bullied and mocked by other Orks for being fat and eating too much. He had relied on his fists and wits to climb step by step from the lowest boy to the position of Warlord. He cared more about his reputation and status than anyone else. He could not accept failure—especially not a defeat this pathetic in front of so many subordinates.
"Besides," the Bacon God's tone became mocking again, "that pot of Ultimate Perfection Bacon was originally made specifically for me, wasn't it? Hahaha."
"I'll kill you!" Ragnar was completely enraged.
The Bacon God could mock him all he wanted, but Ragnar could not accept any insults directed at his beloved Bacon. It angered him even more to realize that what the entity said was largely true—the "Ultimate Perfection Bacon," which he hadn't even dared to eat much of himself, was mostly being used as currency to trade with the Bacon God for power.
He thrust both hands into the scalding Great Pot throne, manically stirring the Bacon within.
"I'll teach you to talk back! I'll teach you to blackmail me! I'm going to stir you into mush today!"
Scalding broth splashed all over him. He bared his teeth in pain, yet he showed no intention of stopping. The surrounding Greenskins were frightened out of their wits, scurrying into the corners. They watched their boss fly into a rage at a pot, smashing and hitting it; they exchanged glances, not daring to make a sound. No one dared to step forward to intervene.
After venting for more than ten minutes, Ragnar finally stopped. He panted heavily, covered in greasy broth, looking utterly disheveled.
The Bacon God inside the pot remained unharmed. That blurred human face still looked at him with a mocking smile. Ragnar stared back at it with a complex expression—anger, resentment, helplessness, and the sheer heartache of losing his Ultimate Perfection Bacon. All these emotions intertwined.
He knew the Bacon God was right. If he lost this war, his prestige would take a devastating hit. Compared to his status, authority, and the entirety of Dolido, half a pot of Ultimate Perfection Bacon seemed like a price he could, perhaps, accept.
But... that was the result of over two years of his blood and sweat.
Ragnar closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, his gaze had become incredibly firm.
"One-third, at most," Ragnar said each word deliberately, leaving no room for negotiation. "This is my bottom line. If you don't agree, then forget it. At worst, we'll all go down together. Even if I die, I'll pull those humies down into the dirt with me."
The smile on the Bacon God's face gradually faded. It stared silently at Ragnar. A deathly silence fell over the bridge, save for Ragnar's heavy breathing.
After a long time, the Bacon God finally spoke. "Fine," it said lazily. "One-third it is. Call me soft-hearted. Hurry up; I can't wait to taste your Ultimate Perfection Bacon."
As it spoke, it opened its massive mouth. The depths of its throat looked like a bottomless black hole.
Ragnar said nothing. He turned and walked toward the depths of the bridge. His steps were heavy and slow, as if he were enduring immense pain with every movement. He passed through a narrow corridor and arrived at a secret room on the Anna that only he knew about.
The secret room was small, only a few square meters in size. In the center of the room sat a small copper pot, barely a meter wide. Beneath the pot, a weak, steady flame flickered. The pot was filled to the brim with golden Bacon.
Unlike the common brown Bacon, this batch of Ultimate Perfection Bacon presented an enticing amber hue. A faint golden glow shimmered on its surface. A dense fragrance emanated from the pot, refreshing and deep. A single sniff made one feel filled with strength.
This was Ragnar's treasured masterpiece.
Ragnar walked to the copper pot and reached out, gently stroking the warm rim. His eyes were full of reluctance and attachment.
"Sorry, old friend," he whispered. "For victory, I have to do this."
He took a deep breath and carefully lifted the lid. In an instant, ten thousand rays of golden light burst from the pot. The entire secret room was dyed golden. An indescribable, enchanting fragrance swept out like a tsunami. The scent traveled down the corridor, all the way to the bridge.
The moment the Greenskins on the bridge caught a whiff of this fragrance, they froze in place as if under a paralysis spell. Their eyes bulged, their mouths hung open, and saliva dripped uncontrollably from the corners of their lips.
"Emperor above... what is that smell..." "Too good... it's too good..." "I feel like I could eat a cow—no, ten cows!"
The boyz began to babble incoherently after smelling the scent. One Mad Dok held a bowl of ordinary Bacon; he took a deep breath of the fragrance and bit into his bowl. But the Bacon he usually found delicious now tasted like wax in his mouth. He threw the bowl to the ground, his gaze fixed obsessively toward the direction where the fragrance originated.
All the Greenskins moved toward the secret room like lost souls.
"Stand back!" Ragnar's roar echoed from the corridor.
He emerged from the secret room, cradling the small copper pot. His face bore an almost sacred expression. The pot in his arms continued to emit golden light and fragrance. Hearing Ragnar's roar, the Greenskins finally snapped out of it. They looked at the pot in his arms with eyes full of greed and desire, but no one dared to take a step forward. They all knew this pot of Bacon was the boss's lifeblood. Anyone who touched it would die a miserable death.
Ragnar cradled the pot and walked step by step to the Great Pot throne. He looked at the face in the pot waiting to be fed, a flash of determination in his eyes. He picked up a giant ladle and, with a trembling hand, scooped out one-third of the Ultimate Perfection Bacon. The golden Bacon quivered slightly in the ladle, radiating an enticing glow.
Some boyz nearby tried to catch a glimpse of the legendary Bacon, but Ragnar harshly rebuked them. He would not allow others to see his beloved Bacon being "defiled" by the other pot. Finally, Ragnar closed his eyes and poured the Ultimate Perfection Bacon from the ladle into the giant mouth that only he could see.
"Drink."
Gulp... Gulp...
The Bacon God swallowed the third of the Ultimate Perfection Bacon in one go. Then, it let out a satisfied burp.
An indescribable, powerful energy radiated from the Great Pot throne. Ragnar could clearly feel a warm current rising from beneath his seat, instantly flowing through his entire body. His exhausted frame was suddenly filled with strength. His head no longer felt dizzy. The anger and anxiety in his heart vanished without a trace, replaced by absolute confidence and calm.
He knew the Bacon God had fulfilled its promise. This war was his to win.
Ragnar slowly opened his eyes. A light like never before shone in his small eyes. He looked up at the main screen, at the human warships that were still firing continuously, and bared his teeth in a grotesque smile.
"Humies, the game is over."
Soft classical music continued to flow across the bridge of the Gemstone. Outside the windows, the cosmos had long been dyed in various colors by the exchange of fire. The fireballs from exploding Greenskin warships rose and fell like vibrant blossoms. However, none of this disturbed the elegant and composed atmosphere within the bridge.
Dominic set down his crystal wine glass, dark red liquid still clinging to the rim. He stood up and walked to the massive viewport, clasping his hands behind his back. He looked out at the crumbling Greenskin fleet with a calm gaze.
The vanguard of the Goff Clan had completely collapsed. The remaining warships scurried through the void like headless flies, attempting to dodge the human fleet's fire. The main fleets of the Deathskulls and Bad Moons clans also suffered heavy losses; the once dense clusters of light had thinned by nearly a third. The scales of victory had tilted entirely toward the humans.
"It seems this battle will be over soon," Dominic said in a flat tone, as if speaking of a trivial matter. But a slight tremor in his fingers suggested the master of the hand was not as calm as he appeared. "However, that Greenskin Warlord named Ragnar is somewhat interesting. To hold a formation of so many Orks is quite a feat."
He turned and took the master-crafted power spear hanging on the wall, gently stroking the tip. "In that case, I shall personally go and meet him."
"My Lord!" The guard captain stepped forward immediately. "It's too dangerous! Ragnar is bound to have countless elite guards around him. You are the supreme commander of the fleet; you cannot risk yourself!"
"Danger?" Dominic raised an eyebrow, a confident smile touching his lips. "Ventria never fears danger. Besides, personally slaying the enemy leader is the most thrilling part of war."
He patted the captain's shoulder and spoke with pride. "While I am away, you shall command the fleet. Maintain the fire suppression; do not give the Orks any room to breathe. When I slay Ragnar, it will be time for our full-scale counter-offensive."
"Yes, My Lord!" The guard captain offered a helpless salute.
Ralfa stood quietly to the side, her grey eyes fixed on Dominic. She said nothing, but her tensed body showed she was ready for combat. As Dominic's personal bodyguard and mentor, she understood the young noble's temperament better than anyone. Once he made a decision, no one could change it.
She rapidly simulated tactics in her mind. Based on her experience fighting the Great Enemy, regardless of how complex the initial tactics were, the final outcome of a war often devolved into a duel between leaders. This was a tradition—all tactics eventually turned into a duel. In such scenarios, the side with the overall advantage usually possessed a higher margin for error.
Currently, the human fleet held an absolute advantage. Even if Dominic encountered trouble during the duel, the fleet could provide support at any time. Furthermore, she knew Dominic's strength best. Among the younger generation of the Ventria family, Dominic was an outstanding talent. A mere Greenskin Warlord, with her present, could not pose a threat to him. Ralfa gripped the hilt of the power sword at her waist, ready to strike alongside Dominic.
Raynor sat on the sofa, wine glass in hand, watching the scene in silence. He was calculating his next moves. If Dominic truly killed Ragnar, the Orks of Dolido would be leaderless and fall into chaos. Then, he could coordinate with Dominic's fleet to strike while the iron was hot and reclaim Dolido in one go.
Dolido was the most important agricultural planet in the Calixis sector, possessing rich land resources. If Dolido could be taken, the problem of Brevis's tithe would be solved. Moreover, with Dominic's tithe fleet helping, Raynor wouldn't need to pay a high price. It was a windfall.
Raynor's face broke into an involuntary smile. Fortunately, Dominic was on his side. Having an ally who could fight and was willing to charge at the front saved a lot of trouble. Once Dolido was reclaimed and Dominic was sent away, Brevis would be completely secure. He could then focus on developing his own power and prepare for the potential Chaos invasion.
As the individuals calculated their plans, a sudden change occurred on the battlefield.
Among the retreating Greenskin fleet, the Anna—shaped like a giant iron pot—suddenly broke away from the main formation. It did not stall like the other Greenskin ships; instead, it accelerated at a terrifying speed, charging directly toward the Gemstone. That speed far exceeded the conventional limits of crude Greenskin engineering. The Anna was larger than the Gemstone, a true capital ship. It was like an ignited shell, trailing a long green flame as it sped toward the Gemstone through the chaotic battlefield.
"What is the meaning of this?" Dominic looked at the main screen, puzzled. "What is that ship doing? Committing suicide?"
Not only Dominic, but the other officers on the Gemstone were also confused. In all their years of warfare, they had never seen such a mad tactic. Using a capital ship to ram the enemy's most heavily defended battleship flagship was no different from seeking death.
But a second later, something even more shocking occurred. The Orks, who had been low in morale and on the verge of collapse, erupted into earth-shaking roars upon seeing the Anna's charge.
"BOSS RAGNAR!!!" "THE ANNA!!!" "WAAAAGH!!!"
The fanatical roars were transmitted to the bridges of every human warship through the public communication channels. Countless green lights radiated from the Greenskin ships. It was Waaaagh energy! The once thin Waaaagh energy now gathered like a tide, surging entirely toward the Anna.
To the naked eye, the hull of the Anna began to swell. The already massive pot-shaped hull grew a full size larger. The rust and patches on the hull vanished, replaced by a layer of green armor shimmering with a metallic luster. The giant chimney in the center of the hull belched thick black smoke laced with green sparks. The Anna resembled a maddened beast, moving with unstoppable momentum.
"Damn it, what in the hell is that?!" Dominic's expression soured. He could feel that the green energy gathered on the Anna had reached an appalling level.
"Courting death!" Dominic quickly regained his composure. Regardless of what sorcery Ragnar was using, charging the Gemstone alone was a suicidal move. "Pass my orders: all ships, focus fire on the Anna immediately! I will make him pay for his arrogance!"
"Yes, My Lord!"
Following Dominic's command, all human warships turned their guns. The three Skyfire-class giant lances of the Gemstone were the first to finish charging. Three azure beams of light, like the swords of gods, sliced through the dark universe and struck the hull of the Anna with precision.
Immediately after, fifty-two broadside macro-cannons, the main batteries of three Mars-class battlecruisers, and all weapons from dozens of cruisers and escorts fired simultaneously. Countless lasers, missiles, and armor-piercing shells slammed into the Anna. The power of this concentrated salvo was enough to easily level the surface of an asteroid. Even the Imperium's mightiest Emperor-class battleship would not care to tank such firepower directly.
Everyone expected the Anna to vanish into ash instantly under this destructive fire. But the next scene left everyone dumbfounded.
The giant pot in the center of the Anna's hull suddenly swung open like a mouth. A massive suction force generated within its pitch-black interior. The lasers and shells flying toward the Anna were all sucked into that "giant mouth." There was no explosion, no fire, and not even a sound. All the attacks vanished like stones sinking into the sea.
Then, the giant iron pot slammed shut with a bang. After a moment, the surface of the pot began to bulge violently as the terrifying shells exploded inside. It swelled into a sphere, then flattened, continuously deforming. The metal casing of the pot was burned red-hot, even beginning to melt. Yet, no matter how much it deformed, it did not rupture. The horrific explosions were forcibly trapped inside the iron pot.
"What... what in the hell is that?"
Dominic took a sharp step back, his face filled with disbelief. His voice trembled slightly. He had seen the bizarre abilities of Chaos demons, the horrific biological weapons of the Tyranids, and the inconceivable psychic technology of the Aeldari. But he had never seen anything that could swallow the concentrated salvo of an entire fleet whole. This surpassed his understanding of the laws of physics.
Raynor stood up as well, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the Anna on the screen. A strong sense of unease rose within him. This was absolutely not ordinary Greenskin technology. It was likely a terrifying creation born from the combination of a Waaaagh! field and "I-fink-so" logic. There was undoubtedly a secret behind Ragnar—did it have to do with that mysterious pot of Ultimate Perfection Bacon?
Raynor recalled the intelligence Sarah had gathered from the Dolido Orks regarding Ragnar and the Bacon. At the time, he hadn't paid much attention, dismissing it as some strange Greenskin custom. Now, it was clear that things were far from simple.
While everyone was silenced by the eerie scene, the interior of the Anna had become a living hell. Although the Great Pot had successfully swallowed the human fleet's fire, the high temperatures and shockwaves from the internal explosions instantly rippled through the ship. Unprotected Greenskin Boyz and Gretchins were vaporized. Even the armored Nobz in their cabins were crushed into paste by the suddenly deforming bulkheads.
From that single wave of attack, the Anna lost over two million Orks. Blood and grease flowed like rivers across the bridge floor.
Ragnar lay slumped over the main console, gasping for breath. He had visibly thinned; his once rotund stomach was now more than half-deflated. His skin was burned red-hot, constantly oozing yellow grease and sweat. Blisters covered his face, making him look hideous and terrifying. Yet his eyes were unnervingly bright, filled with a flickering light of madness and bloodlust.
"Hahaha..." Ragnar burst into a maniacal laugh. "Is that all you've got?!"
"Come on then!" "I can still take more!"
He watched the Gemstone grow larger on the screen and extended his tongue to lick the grease from his lips. "Humies, your cannons aren't even as hot as my Bacon!"
BOOM!
The engines at the rear of the Anna erupted with a blinding green glow. A thrust far greater than before surged from the engines. The Anna's speed tripled instantly. It resembled a green meteor trailing a massive flame, charging toward the Gemstone with unstoppable momentum.
"The Boss is mighty!" "Boss Ragnar is number one!" "WAAAAAGH!"
Seeing the Anna not only survive the salvo but also accelerate its charge, the Orks reached a fever pitch. Their extinguished fighting spirit was reignited to the extreme.
"For Boss Ragnar, charge!" "Kill all the humies!"
The remaining Greenskin warships accelerated, following the Anna in a suicidal charge. They no longer dodged the human fleet's fire or cared for casualties. Their sole objective was to surge forward and relieve the pressure on the Anna. Lasers and missiles poured out from the Greenskin ships, indiscriminately hammering at the debris and edges of Karl-2 in an attempt to suppress the human fleet's continuous output.
The entire battlefield turned into utter chaos. The one-sided situation was reversed by the Anna's desperate charge.
"Lord Dominic, something is wrong!" Raynor walked quickly to Dominic's side. "Ragnar is using some foul method to ignore our firepower. But he must be paying a heavy price; he can't maintain this state for long. We should retreat temporarily to pull back the distance. Once his momentum fades, we can turn back and strike. We will still win."
Ralfa, standing nearby, nodded. She also believed that a temporary retreat was the wisest choice. Ragnar's current state was too abnormal to predict any remaining trump cards. There was no need to clash head-on right now.
But as soon as Raynor finished speaking, Dominic shook his head violently. His face carried a trace of offended anger.
"Retreat?" "Why should we retreat?" "We hold the absolute advantage! We have already destroyed a third of the Greenskin fleet!" "And we have suffered almost no losses!" "Even if he can swallow the first wave, with this much distance left, can he swallow a second? A third?"
Dominic pointed at the approaching Anna on the screen, his tone resolute. "My responsibility is to guard the territory of mankind and destroy all xenos. My pride is the glory of the Ventria family spanning a thousand years. I will never flee before an alien. Never!"
"Today, I stay here and wait for him." "I want to see exactly what this so-called 'Great-Gut' Ragnar is capable of!" "If Governor Raynor is afraid and wishes to leave, please, be my guest."
Dominic made a "please" gesture toward the exit. Raynor sighed inwardly. The young man was still too hot-headed. They had already gained a massive advantage from this ambush. By retreating and waiting out Ragnar's abnormal burst of power, victory would be guaranteed. Why risk everything for noble pride?
"Lord Dominic, you overstate things," Raynor said calmly, bowing slightly. "I am merely concerned for the fleet's safety. Since you have made your decision, I have no objections. However, I just received a transmission from Geth. The Blood Axe clan on the flank has launched a sudden assault, and his command seems to be in trouble. I need to return and stabilize the defensive line. I shall take my leave."
Without waiting for Dominic to respond, Raynor turned and walked out of the bridge. His pace was swift. Leaving the bridge of the Gemstone, he glanced back at the charging Anna. It looked like a boiling cauldron, radiating an ominous aura.
Raynor's unease grew stronger. This battle would not end as easily as he had imagined. Dominic's pride was likely to cost the human fleet a staggering price.
"I hope you don't act too impulsively," Raynor whispered to himself before boarding his shuttle.
The shuttle quickly left the Gemstone, flying toward the Second Expeditionary Fleet. Outside the window, the Anna had already closed the distance to less than five thousand kilometers from the Gemstone.
"Second salvo prepared!" "Lance batteries at ninety-eight percent! Macro-cannons loaded!" "Target locked on the Greenskin flagship!"
On the bridge of the Gemstone, the officers' voices carried a slight tremor. Outside the viewport, that colossal green iron pot continued to approach at a terrifying speed. Molten metal dripped continuously from its hull like the drool of a hungry beast.
Dominic still held his wine glass, but he had long since lost the appetite to drink. The confidence and composure on his face had vanished, replaced by a rigid, heavy solemnity. The previous salvo—sufficient to cripple any capital ship—had been swallowed whole by that bizarre pot. This defied every tenet of warfare he knew.
However, as a noble of Ventria and a Rear Admiral of the Imperial Navy, his innate pride forbade him from showing even a sliver of cowardice. Even if his opponent were a dark god from the Warp, he had to stand his ground and fight to the last.
"Fire!" Dominic's voice remained steady.
BOOM!
Another world-ending salvo erupted. Three sky-scorching lances, like three great blue dragons, tore through the void once more and slammed into the Anna. Following close behind was a torrent of steel—hundreds of tons of armor-piercing high-explosive shells.
Just like before, the massive pot at the center of the Anna opened its abyss-like maw. Every attack was swallowed without exception. The pot snapped shut, its surface bulging and twisting violently, emitting the tooth-grinding screech of metal on metal.
This time, the deformation was more severe. Small fissures split open in several places on the pot's surface. A dark green, viscous liquid seeped from the cracks, forming beads in the vacuum of space. But still, it did not break.
"Prepare the third salvo! Keep firing, do not stop!" Dominic roared. He did not believe this scrap-metal pot could swallow attacks indefinitely. Everything had a limit. If they kept hammering it, they would eventually punch through.
Before long, the third salvo arrived. This time, the Gemstone even deployed its reserves of melta bombs and plasma torpedoes. A light more brilliant than before illuminated the dark universe. The Anna's maw opened again, taking it all in.
CRACK—
A crisp sound echoed through the bridge of the Anna. A massive crack finally appeared along the rim of the iron pot.
The captain of the guard shouted in excitement, "It's wounded!"
Everyone on the bridge exhaled in relief, the tension in their faces easing slightly. Even the corners of Dominic's mouth turned up in a slight smirk. As expected, there was nothing the Emperor's fire could not pierce.
But their relaxation lasted only a few seconds.
The massive crack began to heal at a visible rate. Dark green fluid surged from the fissure, quickly filling and mending the wound. Not only that, but after consuming three salvos, the Anna's physical size expanded yet again. The already gargantuan hull was now nearly fifty percent larger than the Gemstone. The green light on its hull grew more dazzling, and the radiating Waaaagh! energy became even more turbulent.
The atmosphere on the Gemstone's bridge froze once more. Everyone stared blankly at the Anna on the screen. A cold chill surged from their feet to their skulls.
What kind of monster was this? It didn't just swallow attacks—it grew stronger by eating them.
Dominic's face turned pale. His heart hammered uncontrollably against his ribs. This was the first time he felt the sensation of "fear." It was a primal human instinct when facing the unknown.
He had participated in countless wars and faced innumerable powerful foes. He had once personally slain Chaos Space Marines and led fleets through the encirclements of other Greenskin Warlords. That experience was the source of his confidence. But against a monster that defied all logic and could not be destroyed, any tactical bravery seemed pale and hollow.
But he could not retreat. He was Dominic Ventria. His pride would not allow it.
"It is only one ship," Dominic took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. "No matter how bizarre or sacrilegious it is, it is only one ship. Furthermore, it has completely outpaced the rest of the Greenskin fleet. How difficult can one ship's boarding party be, even if they are Orks? As long as we hold the Gemstone, we will win when it eventually exhausts itself."
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried the power to restore calm. The officers on the bridge gradually steadied themselves. Indeed, it was only one ship. The Gemstone was one of the mightiest battleships in the Imperium, carrying nearly a hundred thousand elite soldiers. No matter how well the Orks fought, they couldn't seize the Gemstone in a short time with the forces of a single vessel.
"Third Escort Squad, hear my command!" Dominic shouted into the vox. "Move forward immediately to intercept the Anna! Delay its advance at all costs! All combat personnel aboard the Gemstone, hear me! Seal all bulkheads and initiate maximum-level defense protocols! Prepare for boarding actions!"
"For the Emperor!" "FOR THE EMPEROR!!!"
The deafening roars of the soldiers came back through the vox. The Gemstone instantly entered a state of close-quarters readiness. Armed personnel shifted to the sectors where the Anna was approaching. Countless soldiers raised their weapons, setting up defensive lines in every corridor and compartment. Tech-priests prayed incessantly, anointing weapons and armor with sacred oils to soothe the restless Machine Spirits.
Ralfa unsheathed the power sword at her waist, her grey eyes locked onto the Anna outside the viewport. Every muscle in her body was coiled tight, ready for combat. Meanwhile, the Captain's Quarters where Dominic stood was already heavily reinforced by elite guards.
Upon receiving the order, five Sword-class frigates from the Third Escort Squad turned their bows and charged directly at the Anna. The Sword-class was the most common frigate in the Imperial Navy, known for being balanced and reliable. The five ships fanned out, pouring fire from point-defense cannons and laser batteries as they charged at high speed.
Countless rounds and beams hammered against the Anna's thick armor, kicking up tiny sparks but leaving no marks behind. The Anna didn't even bother to open its maw; it simply ignored the point-blank fire of the frigates and continued its approach toward the Gemstone.
"Increase firepower! Hit them hard!" the squad leader roared. He knew their mission was to buy time. Even if they had to ram the monster with their own ships, they had to stop it.
The five frigates reached a distance of less than ten kilometers from the Anna. At that moment, the Anna suddenly stopped accelerating. The massive pot at its center slowly opened once more.
This time, no lances or shells were fired. Instead, an irresistible suction force erupted from the pot. But this time, the target wasn't incoming fire—it was the five frigates.
"Warning! Warning! Extreme gravitational field detected!" "Engines to maximum power!" "We're being pulled in!" "Damn it! The propulsion systems are functional, but we can't break the suction!"
The captains of the five frigates issued identical alarms simultaneously. They pushed their engines to the limit, brilliant blue flames erupting from the sterns as they tried to tear themselves away. But it was futile. The suction was too powerful. It was like countless invisible chains had bound the frigates, dragging them inch by inch toward that abyssal maw.
"To hell with it! Accelerate and ram it then!" the leader ordered in desperation.
But it was too late. As they were pulled into the interior of the pot, the lid began to close. Then, a bone-chilling scene unfolded.
The closed pot began to rotate, squeeze, and grind with insane force. Green light seeped from the seams of the pot. Under the abrasion of that green glow, the energy bars of the frigates' void shields plummeted at a staggering rate.
"Void shields at fifty percent!" "Thirty percent!" "Ten percent!" "Void shields overloaded!!!"
In just one minute, the void shields of all five frigates collapsed. Without their protection, the frigates were like oysters stripped of their shells, revealing the soft hulls within. The Anna was like an impatient gourmet, heedless of the details, focused only on swallowing this rare delicacy.
CRUNCH. CRACK—
Only the sharp, brittle sounds of exploding metal echoed within the Great Pot.
Three Sword-class frigates were swallowed whole, vanishing into the darkness of the iron pot. Two other frigates attempted a desperate turn at the last second, but the great maw clamped down on their rear hulls.
The sheer force snapped the 1.6-kilometer-long frigates in half. Columns of fire from the resulting explosions surged into the void. The severed forward sections tumbled helplessly through space, the soldiers inside either dead or dying.
After consuming roughly four frigates' worth of mass, the Anna slightly parted its maw. A non-lethal shockwave erupted from the opening. Countless metal shards, twisted weapon wreckage, and the mangled corpses of Imperial soldiers spewed out with the blast. It was like a man letting out a satisfied burp after a heavy meal.
"By the Emperor..." the captain of the guard stammered, staring at the hellish vision on the screen. Fear and despair were etched into his features. This wasn't a ship. This was a horrific demon from the Warp.
The bridge fell into a deathly silence. Everyone was paralyzed by the gruesome scene. They had faced countless enemies with varied abilities, but they had never witnessed a combat style like this—no overwhelming firepower or sorcery, just a giant mouth literally eating enemy warships. Where in the hell did this come from? Was this even real space anymore?
Dominic's body trembled slightly. He kept his eyes fixed on the behemoth. Five frigates and nearly a hundred thousand Imperial soldiers had vanished without a trace in a matter of minutes, without even the chance to resist.
For the first time, he began to doubt his decision. Perhaps he should have listened to Raynor's suggestion to retreat. But it was too late for regrets. The Anna was now directly in front of the Gemstone. Its gargantuan frame completely blotted out the stars.
The unlit corridors of the Gemstone fell into total darkness. Only the flickering alarm lights on the consoles and the green radiance emanating from the Anna illuminated the soldiers standing guard in the hallways.
"Warning! Warning!" "Large object approaching at high speed. Impact in ten seconds!"
"Raise the void shields to maximum power!" Dominic snapped back to his senses and roared. "All personnel, brace for impact! Secure yourselves!"
He walked to the center of the bridge and drew his master-crafted power sword. The disruption field ignited, crackling with blue energy.
"Soldiers!" Dominic's voice boomed through the vox, reaching every corner of the Gemstone. "The foul xenos have used unknown, sacrilegious power to block our attacks and devour our comrades. Do they think this will defeat us?"
"No!"
"The Gemstone still stands! We still stand!" "We are the warriors of the Emperor! We are the guardians of mankind!" "No matter how terrifying the foe, we will not falter!" "Take up your weapons and crush these aliens!" "For the Emperor!"
The Gemstone did not carry a Commissar, for Dominic himself was the best orator they could have. Nearly a hundred thousand officers and crew members were pulled back from their shock by his speech. Many had served on this ship since the day it was assembled in the forge worlds of Mars. They had followed the Gemstone through countless brutal campaigns. Having seen so much death and destruction, they were the Emperor's most loyal and brave warriors. Even if a Dark God manifested before them, they would dare to charge. Fear would never defeat them.
"Ten, nine, eight..."
The countdown echoed on the bridge. Everyone held their breath, gripping fixed structures tightly.
"Three, two, one!"
BOOM—!!!
With a massive roar, the entire world shook. The Anna slammed violently into the port side of the Gemstone. The immense impact caused the battleship to reel and pitch. Everyone on the bridge was thrown off balance. Dominic stumbled several steps before steadying himself.
He looked up at the viewport. The Anna's giant maw was clamped firmly onto the Gemstone's port-side void shields. Green Waaaagh! energy ground against the blue void shields, hissing and popping as showers of energy sparks cascaded across the hull.
The void shield energy bars plummeted. However, this time, the Anna failed to bite through the defense as easily as it had with the frigates. As a top-tier Victory-class battleship, the Gemstone utilized a multi-layered, multi-array void shield design. The maw that had easily crushed frigates was now firmly stuck against the Gemstone's exterior, unable to advance another inch.
"Great! We stopped it!" the captain of the guard shouted excitedly. "That's right, it can't swallow us!"
Hope was rekindled among the bridge officers. Without the protection of its maw, the Anna's main hull was now fully exposed to the fire of other human warships.
"Pass the order! All other ships, concentrate fire on the Anna's hull immediately!" Dominic commanded loudly. "It's pinned down! Hit it with everything!"
"Yes, my Lord!"
Three Mars-class battlecruisers and dozens of cruisers and frigates hiding behind Karl-2 immediately turned their batteries toward the Anna's flanks and stern. A storm of lances and shells hammered the Anna's hull. Without the Great Pot's protection, the Greenskin armor was no match for the human fleet's firepower. Armor plates were torn away, and internal explosions rippled through the ship. The screams of dying Orks were constant.
"Hold on! Just ten more minutes!" "The next main battery salvo will destroy it!" Dominic's eyes were resolute.
As long as they survived these ten minutes, the Anna would be completely annihilated. He would still win this war.
While the two metal leviathans were locked in a stalemate, a dozen torpedoes, each over a hundred meters long, were launched from deep within the Anna's "maw."
These were the pinnacle of Dorido Greenskin technology: "Big Bazooka Torpedoes." Their size and power source exceeded anything a normal torpedo should possess. Similar to boarding torpedoes, their unique properties allowed them to bypass void shields and strike directly into the heart of a vessel.
"What are those?" a senior officer frowned, his voice low and heavy.
Dominic sensed something was wrong as well. He quickly turned his gaze to the main screen. He saw a dozen abnormally large torpedoes being expelled from the depths of the Anna's maw. These projectiles were a hundred meters long and oddly shaped—less like standard torpedoes and more like gargantuan metal mushrooms.
They did not fly toward the Gemstone's external armor. Instead, they slid directly through the gaps where the void shields and physical hull were grinding against each other, burrowing straight into the Gemstone's interior.
"Dammit, boarding torpedoes!" An officer's face went pale. "But how can they be that big?"
"All combat personnel, attention! Greenskin boarding action! Intercept immediately!"
Dominic barked the order, but it was already too late. The "Big Bazooka Torpedoes" detonated simultaneously across the mid and lower decks of the Gemstone. The torpedo casings shattered, and countless Greenskin Boyz and Big 'Uns surged out like a green tide.
"WAAAAAUGH!!!"
The frenzied war cries erupted throughout the corridors of the Gemstone. The Boyz wielded choppas and scrap-shootas, hacking at every person and smashing every object in sight. The unprepared Imperial soldiers were caught completely off guard. Within minutes, a dozen compartments had been overrun. Blood stained the corridor floors. The sirens grew more piercing, and the red alarm lights flickered frantically.
The Gemstone fell into chaos.
"Curse them!" Dominic slammed his fist onto the table. "First and Second Marine Regiments, proceed to the mid-decks to intercept! Third and Fourth Regiments, guard the engine rooms and magazines on the lower decks!"
"Yes, my Lord!"
In the midst of the mayhem, an even more terrifying figure appeared on the monitors of the mid-deck. It was an exceptionally massive Greenskin. Over four meters tall, his round body resembled a giant ball of flesh. He wore no standard Ork armor; instead, he was encased in a ridiculous suit of spherical metal armor covered in graffiti of various foodstuffs. The base of the suit was a "Great Pot Mecha" equipped with several mechanical legs.
He jumped out of a ruptured torpedo bay, suddenly curled his body inside the spherical armor, and retracted into the pot. In an instant, he transformed into a massive iron ball ten meters in diameter.
RUMBLE!
The iron ball accelerated forward with a roar. Walls, pillars, and weapon emplacements along the way were pulverized. Several Imperial soldiers raised their lasguns and fired; the beams hit the armor and were instantly deflected by the high-speed rotation. The iron ball rolled over them, crushing them into a bloody pulp.
"Is that... Ragnar?!" Dominic's eyes narrowed, a hint of excitement coloring his tone.
Indeed, that massive iron ball was none other than Ragnar "Great-Gut." He had joined the boarding action personally. Behind him followed dozens of "Yummy Big 'Uns" wearing the same style of spherical armor. They too curled up, turning into highly destructive iron spheres.
These balls rampaged through the Gemstone's corridors, utterly unstoppable. Any fortification in their path was as flimsy as paper. Even a Sentinel walker company was effortlessly flattened by this rolling vanguard. Among the Orks of Dorido, they were known as the "Wrecking Ball Brigade."
"Stop them! They must not reach the bridge!" the commander of the First Marine Regiment ordered. But he knew the real trouble was only just beginning. Ragnar and his Wrecking Ball Brigade were advancing toward the bridge at a staggering speed.
"Report, my Lord! The Wrecking Ball Brigade has broken through the Sector C defensive line! The First Marine Regiment has suffered heavy casualties, and the Sentinel company is wiped out!"
The roar coming through the vox carried an unmistakable trace of fear. Dominic stared intently at the surveillance footage on the main screen. In the video, the ten-meter iron ball was tearing through the hallways. Alloy walls a meter thick were no different from cardboard as it smashed through them. Heavy blast doors were sent flying, hitting the deck with deafening crashes.
Several Imperial soldiers hid behind cover, firing heavy bolters frantically. The shells pinged off the iron ball, leaving only shallow scuff marks before being deflected. The ball rolled over the barricade without slowing down, grinding the soldiers beneath it.
Behind it, the slightly smaller spheres followed in its wake, leaving nothing but wreckage.
"Even the Sentinels couldn't stop them?" Dominic's brow furrowed, his expression grave. He had expected the lascannon-equipped walkers to at least delay them. He hadn't expected the entire company to be annihilated in ten minutes. The defensive and destructive power of these spheres far exceeded his estimates.
"Do they think they can do whatever they want here?" Dominic's gaze sharpened. "This is the Gemstone. This is my territory. Getting to the bridge won't be that easy."
He was proud, but never reckless. If Ragnar wanted a duel, he would provide one. But before that, he had to use his home-field advantage to weaken the enemy as much as possible. It would be foolish to face a fresh Ragnar head-on.
"Immediately retrieve the structural maps for all routes from Sector C to the bridge," Dominic ordered. "Have the Tech-priests analyze the Wrecking Ball Brigade's path and predict their next move."
"Yes, my Lord!"
Soon, a 3D structural map of the Gemstone was projected onto the main screen. Countless red dots moved across the map, representing the positions of the Wrecking Ball Brigade. Several Tech-priests tapped away at their consoles, chanting prayers for the Omnissiah's guidance.
"My Lord, the analysis is complete!" The lead Tech-priest turned, his voice a synthesized mechanical drone. "Based on their speed and trajectory, they are most likely to take Route Seven to the bridge. This corridor is the widest overall and best suited for their spherical mobility."
"Excellent." Dominic nodded, a cruel smile touching his lips. "Pass my orders."
"Have the Second Marine Regiment evacuate Main Corridor Seven immediately and set up defenses in the branching hallways. Seal all ventilation systems in Corridor Seven and pump in 'Type-Five' toxic gas. Set up melta-charge arrays in the middle of the corridor and detonate them the moment they enter the kill zone. The heavy weapons teams are to assemble at the intersection at the end of the corridor with every plasma cannon and multi-melta available..."
"I want them to know the Gemstone is no place for them to run wild."
"Yes, my Lord!"
A series of orders were quickly disseminated. Beyond the standard Marine regiments, other armed forces were mobilized. Ragnar's next moves would not be so easy. The Gemstone was like a waking dragon, beginning to flex its claws. Everything was set, waiting for Ragnar and his Wrecking Ball Brigade to roll into the trap.
Meanwhile, in the void hundreds of kilometers away from the main battlefield.
Raynor's shuttle entered the hangar of the Peak Obsidian. While on the shuttle, he had witnessed the horrific scene of the Anna devouring five frigates. Even the well-traveled Raynor couldn't help but curse, "What the hell is that thing?"
The scene defied all logic. An iron pot eating entire warships? Was this even Ork technology? Raynor felt a surge of relief that he had decisively left the Gemstone. It wasn't that he thought Dominic would definitely lose to Ragnar, but rather that he couldn't exercise his true strength to help while under the watchful eyes of Dominic and Ralfa.
Ralfa, that Silent Sister, had been watching him with constant suspicion. Any abnormal move would likely have seen him branded a heretic. On the Gemstone, he was restricted to fighting like a normal human with Imperial gear. That feeling of being restrained was unbearable.
But now, back on his own turf, he could finally let loose.
The shuttle hatch opened. As Raynor stepped out, a small black shadow darted from his coat.
"I was almost suffocated!" Sarah's clear voice chirped in Raynor's ear.