Yarrick finally received the news he had dreaded most.
"Those cursed cowards... how could they just abandon the Hive? Without even a shred of resistance?"
Vast amounts of resources and population would now be seized by the Orks and repurposed into new weapons to be turned against the Imperium. Now, the Green Tide was bringing those very weapons to besiege Hades Hive.
The news was delivered by scouts from the Armageddon Steel Legion. Nearly ten thousand men had accepted this mission, but in the end, fewer than two hundred had survived the lethal environment of Armageddon to reach Hades Hive.
"You have worked hard, but we may need your assistance again soon. We need every hand we can get right now; you should help us briefly train the local militias."
After dismissing the scouts, Yarrick continued organizing the Hive's defenses.
"Blow up all the major transit arteries. We are about to be surrounded, and these roads will soon be useless to us. Furthermore, bring out every weapon we have and distribute them to everyone in the Hive. To hold Hades Hive, we need the strength of every single person."
The situation was painfully obvious. Hades Hive had very few regular troops, yet the incoming Orks had already defeated the combined forces of the Steel Legion and the Skitarii elsewhere.
"I hope the Planetary Governor has enough sense left. If he coordinates with the Titan Legions, he might still hold out."
Upon hearing this, his aide whispered timidly, "Sir... the Titan Legion has been completely wiped out."
Frustration deepened on Yarrick's already angry face.
"Damn it. I don't even need to ask; I know it was that fool of a Governor who gave the orders that threw away an entire Titan Legion."
Suddenly, Yarrick recalled something, speaking with a faint trace of sorrow, "I knew the Princeps. He was the kind of man who could find victory in any situation. He deserved a Star of Terra."
After a moment of reflection, he asked his aide, "When do you think we should abandon the outer perimeters and fall back into the Hive for a siege?"
"Sir, when the ammunition runs dry."
Yarrick turned his attention back to the maps.
"We cannot allow the Imperial reinforcements to arrive only to see a planet crawling with Orks. Every sacrifice we make, every enemy we kill, is a foundation stone leading to victory."
"For the Emperor." "For the Emperor."
It does not rain on Armageddon.
When the dust and toxic pollutants in the air reach a certain density and weight, they coalesce into a sand-like substance. Falling from the sky, this grit claims the lives of anyone not sealed within a protective suit. Yarrick had ordered all anti-toxin supplies to be distributed, and every available factory in the Hive was converted to produce more.
"Do not underestimate the Greenskins. Their assault will be total—from the air, the ground, and beneath the earth. We shall fight on the surface, we shall fight in the Hive, we shall fight in the ventilation shafts! Our battle shall never cease; even in death, our souls shall fight beside the Golden Throne!"
This was Yarrick's resolve, and it was shared by every human who gripped their weapon tighter in the face of an overwhelming foe.
"The Orks are here!"
In the distance, the green horde surged forward. Countless armored vehicles, an innumerable sea of enemies, and all manner of bizarre weaponry.
"For the Emperor!"
The glare of plasma weapons was dazzling on the battlefield. The blue radiance intensified as it charged, and the casualties it inflicted were devastating. The defenders operating the plasma cannons blasted a massive hole in the Ork ranks, significantly boosting morale.
Yarrick knew he had to lead by example. A Commissar never stayed in the rear. As long as he stood there, the defensive line would not crumble.
The battle raged for an eternity. The acrid stench of smoke and scorched steel hung over the positions. The white hair at Yarrick's temples was soaked with sweat and blood.
Moments earlier, the Ork Warlord Ugulhard—a war leader notorious for his brutality and one of Ghazghkull's most feared lieutenants—had been leading a blackened tide of Orks toward the human lines. The massive Ugulhard let out a deafening war cry, his serrated power claw glinting under the dim, yellowish sky.
"Duel me, xenos!" Yarrick shouted, knowing this was the prerogative of a supreme commander.
"Wiv just you, ya old Umie?"
With a thunderous crash of metal, the power claw tore through the air. Amidst the screech of twisting steel and the spray of flesh, Ugulhard's power claw punched through Yarrick's defense, severing his right arm at the elbow. Shattered bone was exposed at the wound, and blood sprayed like a fountain onto the scorched earth.
The Ork Warlord let out a triumphant roar, believing the "Umie" was finished.
But at that moment, on the brink of agonizing shock, Yarrick's body erupted with incredible willpower. His remaining left hand grabbed the fallen chainsword with impossible speed, and with a soul-shattering war cry, he swung upward. The whirling teeth tore through the Ork's thick neck, and Ugulhard's hideous expression was frozen forever as his head spun into the air.
An even more terrifying sight followed for the Orks: Yarrick stumbled but stood firm. With his blood-stained left hand, he plucked the power claw that had just mutilated him from the pool of blood and fitted it onto his stump.
"Is there anyone else with parts they don't want!" Yarrick bellowed in the Ork tongue.
The defenders witnessed this miracle, and their morale reached a boiling point. Human soldiers threw themselves at the Greenskins like a torrential flood. Meanwhile, the Orks—who lived for combat—felt their morale shatter.
"Ugulhard's dead! Killed by an old Umie!" "Waaaaaagh! Run away!"
Yarrick saw victory rushing toward him, forcing himself to stay upright.
"For the Emperor!"
The Orks retreated. They had never encountered such fierce resistance, nor had they expected their boss to die in such a manner.
Then, Yarrick saw objects flying through the air—hundreds of missiles, several of which were screaming toward his sector.
"What is this?"
Yarrick felt a premonition of disaster. Despite the victory, he immediately ordered the troops, "Withdraw into the Hive! Fall back to the Hive!"
As the missiles impacted, Yarrick saw only a flash of light. Finally, with the Orks gone, he collapsed into unconsciousness. Commissar Yarrick had commanded himself not to fall before the Orks, and his body was forced to obey that command.