35: Chapter 35 The Encirclement

Helmut fell silent.

He finally understood that for the past five days of battle, Icarus had not been preparing to repel the Orks; its actions were not merely to hold the defensive line, nor were they entirely to deplete the enemy's effective strength.

For those five days, from beginning to end, it had simply been "herding" them.

To make the Orks believe they were advancing.

To make the Orks believe they had found a breakthrough.

To make the Orks concentrate all their forces in one place.

Therefore, it was willing to sacrifice a portion of its production modules and willing to indulge the Orks' WAAAGH! frenzy.

[Battlefield Analysis Station: Deployment Mode]

[Drone Hangar: Releasing]

[Target: Industrial Zone Perimeter, Main Ork Cluster]

[Mission: Annihilation]

Note: Due to cognitive conflict, the spatial hangar has activated safety protocols for hard cooling to avoid space combat, therefore ground combat tactics should adopt a stalling strategy, incidentally herding the Orks to maximize recycling efficiency.

Skullcrusher Mogg would never forget that moment.

He stood before the bridge window, watching the blue light points in the distance "explode"—no! It was not an explosion, but a release.

Countless black dots surged madly from the Battlefield Analysis Station.

They surged out so fast and in such great numbers that for the first few seconds, Mogg thought the station itself was disintegrating, shattering, and throwing its own fragments into the sky.

But those black dots did not fall.

They hovered in the air—deployed—and took form.

The flat ones were attack drones, equipped with kinetic weapons; those with ring-shaped mounts were precision drones, equipped with laser weapons.

They had no superfluous decorations; they were pure and thorough, born solely to exist for slaughter.

[The Main Brain's commentary: Clearly the designers and artists fought, and the accountants won in the end.]

After ascending, they automatically grouped, coordinating with each other and flying in circles, like a swarm of thoroughly enraged metal bees.

Twelve drones to a squad, they flowed endlessly from the Battlefield Analysis Station.

One squad, two squads, three squads...

The dense swarm of drones, like a black cloud, instantly obscured the sky over the entire industrial city.

The reveling Ork Boyz below instantly ceased their roaring.

They looked up, watching the sky suddenly darken, watching those dense, rapidly diving metal reapers, the fanaticism on their faces instantly freezing.

The WAAAGH! shouts that had been stuck in their throats turned into screams of terror:

"What is that?!"

"There are too many of them!"

But it was already too late.

The projectiles and energy beams fired by the drone swarm descended like a rainstorm, covering the entire Ork cluster at the edge of the city.

An Ork Boy was locked onto by three drones simultaneously.

The Gauss-coil-propelled projectiles struck from three directions simultaneously—head, chest, knee.

He didn't even have time to raise his axe before his body crashed to the ground, lifeless.

The Mega-Armored Nob flew into a rage, waving his power claw in an attempt to swat those annoying little bugs.

But he swung a dozen times and only hit one drone—and that drone, before being smashed, had already left over twenty charred craters on his armor.

No matter how thick his armor was, it couldn't withstand the concentrated laser fire from different angles.

The surviving Squiggoth thrashed its body wildly, trying to shake the Gretchin off its back.

The feeling of helplessness from only being able to take hits while unable to catch the enemy made them completely enraged, letting out shrill screams.

Those drones were too fast and too agile, weaving through the gaps in the giant beasts' limbs, specifically targeting their joints and eyes.

Soon, one Squiggoth after another crashed to the ground, completely losing their vitality.

The drone swarm wove an airtight net of death in the sky.

Three drones to a group formed a triangular fire net to harvest light-armored Ork Boyz; twelve to a squad focused their lasers to snipe the Mega-Armored Nobs and Squiggoths; one hundred squads coordinated to cover a regional battlefield.

Any Ork attempting to rush out of the encirclement would be locked onto by at least several drones simultaneously and instantly shot into a sieve.

Any Ork attempting to counterattack would have another squad of drones diving from the flank, suppressing them so they couldn't even lift their heads.

The most terrifying thing was their quantity and quality—twelve thousand combat drones dancing in the sky, weaving an inescapable net of harvest.

Yet more were still emerging from the Battlefield Analysis Station.

The wails of the Orks, the shattering of metal, and the buzzing of drones intertwined into a hellish symphony that resonated throughout the industrial city.

Things were far from over.

Energy allocation was instantly distributed to the defense tower matrix.

The implosion cannons, having finished their rotational charging, began to pick off targets; the remaining Mega-Armored Nobs and surviving Squiggoths were completely wiped from the battlefield in one round of attacks.

On the original defense nodes previously destroyed by the three-way assault, blueprint phantoms flashed by, and the wreckage of defense towers and conveyor belts was instantly identified and recycled.

The next second, new Gauss Machine Gun Towers, high-frequency laser towers, and energy sensor towers were warped directly onto the battlefield, quickly distributing energy.

The conveyor belts reconnected, and ammunition was continuously fed along the belts into the machine gun towers; the ammunition belts flowed rapidly, and the efficiency of the slaughter increased sharply.

The combat drones began to outflank, splitting into two teams, completely sealing off all of the Orks' retreat paths.

The encirclement was complete.

What remained only required time to slowly harvest this carefully captured prey.

Some Ork Boyz tried to detonate the explosives on their bodies, but before they could press the button, their heads were pierced by lasers; some Mega-Armored Nobs dragged their broken bodies, charging toward the Interstellar Logistics Tower, leaving bloodstains with every step, only to be hit by a titanium-alloy armor-piercing shell fired from an implosion cannon and crash to the ground; the lucky surviving Gretchin huddled in the crevices of the wreckage, shivering, not even daring to scream.

Gluck watched the sudden change on the battlefield, slowly loosening his grip on the Rad-carbine and slinging the gun over his shoulder.

The runes on the carbine flickered at an extremely high frequency, as if expressing irrepressible joy.

The Land Raider beside him fell completely silent, the charging glow of its main cannon quietly extinguishing.

The engines of Chimera #0037 and #0042 also entered an idle state, the heat of the melta cannon's energy buildup gradually fading, emitting a low hum as if it had let out a satisfied burp.

This hunt was now without suspense.

No one noticed that the moment the entire industrial city on the defensive line suffered a massive power outage, seven black figures were hiding in the shadows of the industrial city; they wore pitch-black armor adorned with skull patterns, and amidst the interlacing red light, they slowly drew the energy swords and Bolters from their waists, shouting "For the Emperor," preparing to charge.

In the shadows of the Warp, the figures of the Chaos Gods' followers quietly emerged, their mouths curling into smiles as they looked at the citizens in the newly built residential area and the awakened machine spirits on the Vulcan-IV.

And in the bridge of the Da Kill-Ship, Mogg gripped his power claw tightly, his knuckles white, his single eye bloodshot, his eyes filled with rage and unwillingness.