Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 884, 08.883: Fenris's Wrath (Seeking Monthly Tickets!)

The plasma trails of eight Avenger-class torpedoes drew eight fiery arcs in the void as they hurtled toward their respective targets—two slave ships circling like vultures, and the alien flagship known as the "Black Ark," which was fleeing wounded.

The enemy forces besieging the "Swift Eagle" had their formation instantly torn apart by this sudden attack.

The Ducalli raiding ships and slave ships, which had been coordinating like a pack of wolves, now resembled a frightened herd of beasts, recklessly starting their engines and scrambling to escape the torpedo lanes marked as death zones.

The torpedoes fired by the attack ship E-103, guided by the cold and precise flight of its carrier-based aircraft, first locked onto the slave ship that was still greedily approaching the "Swift Eagle," attempting to tear off another piece of flesh before withdrawing.

In absolute silence, the torpedo, like a lance of judgment, pierced diagonally into its starboard side.

There was no sound, only a blinding white light bright enough to burn the retina.

The intense flames of the nuclear explosion, like a miniature sun silently ignited, burst forth from within.

The terrifying energy instantly tore apart the ship's fragile main structure. Amidst the silent, desperate screams of countless alien pirates and enslaved beings, it transformed into a fireball that expanded violently, burned, and finally disintegrated in the void. The wreckage was pushed away by the shockwave and scattered like cosmic dust.

The Imperial Navy could not rescue these miserable slaves one by one, but it could grant them the Emperor's mercy—a clean and swift death.

On the bridge of the attack ship E-99, Lieutenant Commander Kretschmer's gaze, sharp as a hawk's, was fixed on the alien flagship—the Black Ark—which resembled an obsidian blade, through the main tactical view.

The six torpedoes fired at their target were constantly weakened by the alien-like close-in weaponry and the desperate interception by the carrier-based aircraft. Every now and then, a torpedo would be detonated, turning into fireworks in the void, but the remaining torpedoes would seize the opportunity to continue their approach.

After traversing hundreds of kilometers of intercepting fire, only three torpedoes remained, heading straight for the dark hull.

Ducati's Raptor carrier-based aircraft, like mad moths, rushed headlong into these flames that brought destruction, regardless of the cost.

The furious interceptors launched from the Provocative-class 'Rising Feather' engaged the Raptors in combat, disrupting their interception efforts, with bursts of explosions echoing through the void.

Those were Anya Fasha's old comrades and subordinates from the 335th Interceptor Battalion and the 217th Interceptor Battalion, which had been left in Abyss Harbor for preparation and had been replenished.

For the first time, a dark-skinned female pilot from Taran led her comrades into battle as the commander of an air regiment.

Another torpedo was directly hit by the Black Ark's dense close-in weaponry. Its fuse went out of control before it detonated, igniting the rampaging explosives inside the warhead.

In a silent explosion that rapidly compressed inwards and then violently expanded in all directions, several Raptor fighter jets that were too close were caught in the blast and became part of the grand fireworks display.

The last two!
Like two heavy daggers with highly poisoned tips, they pierced the heart of the Black Ark with unstoppable force.

Their plasma engines burned at maximum power, covering the final distance in mere seconds. In their cold optical sensors, the elegant yet ferocious silhouette of the Black Ark was magnified, and the incinerating runes engraved on the warheads changed their glow from a warning amber to a deep red representing end and death.

Captain Horatio watched this pivotal moment that would determine the outcome of the battle with bated breath on his Darkvision tactical interface.

three……

two……

one……

hit!

The first torpedo precisely severed the Black Ark's slender port-side blade fin, leaving a deep, gruesome wound on its mirror-like hull.

Vapor carrying debris gushed from the wound, forming a brief, silent nebula.

This strike was the pent-up rage of the Imperial Navy, a powerful blow born from the indomitable will of all the officers and men of the "Swift Skyhawk".

A second torpedo followed closely, striking its midships and tearing a horrific, kilometer-long gash in the alien's bizarre armor. Purple energy flickered along the wound, like an unhealable scar on a behemoth. The massive silhouette of the battlecruiser "Eastern" pursued from behind, like a moving mountain of steel.

But the black ark has already begun to leap.

Around its hull, the curtain of reality began to distort and wrinkle, like the surface of water tossed with pebbles, foreshadowing its impending descent into that chaotic dimension.

Two choices, like two heavy weights, fell before the commander of the "Eastern"—to immediately turn around and support the precarious light cruiser "Swift Eagle"; or to take a desperate gamble, launch a boarding assault, interrupt the Black Ark's jump, and in order to further expand the victory and win unparalleled glory?

She only has one chance to choose.

One was saving the lives of comrades and fulfilling the sacred duty of mutual support; the other was achieving remarkable feats worthy of being recorded in the history of the war zone.

For a naval admiral in his prime, eager for glory, the latter option is undoubtedly more tempting.

However, the massive hull of the "Eastern" began to turn amidst the roar of its engines.

Instead of pursuing that readily available glory, she turned her bow toward the Swift Eagle, which was fighting a bloody battle.

The launch hatches on the sides opened one after another, like the gaping wounds of a giant beast.

Hundreds of boarding craft, like arrows released from a bow, rushed toward the terracotta hull of the "Swift Skyhawk," which was already battered and bruised by alien fire and impacts.

They used their front-end thermal melting and demolition equipment to forcibly melt open entrances in the armor of friendly ships and release infantry.

This rescue method is brutal and direct, and will undoubtedly cause damage to the ship. But for a dying patient already lying on the operating table, without surgery, death is the only thing waiting for her.

Just as Horatio was lamenting the impending escape of this behemoth, and feeling grateful for his colleagues in the Calicus sector who prioritized the safety of their comrades, a brand new, wild communication drowned out all the tactical instructions on the bridge.

"For Ruth and the All-Father!"

The war howl of the Space Wolf, like a thunderclap, erupted in the communication channel.

Unlike any warcry Horatio had ever heard before, it was filled with a primal, wild aura, unlike the shouts of humans, more like the soul-stirring howl of a prehistoric giant wolf amidst the stars.

If Horatio hadn't known the war cry as a time traveler, he probably wouldn't have known what the wolves were howling at all.

A massive battle barge, leading a vast fleet of warbands, charged fiercely toward the Black Ark.

It is the flagship of the Space Wolves Blackmane Dalian Squadron – the "Frost Fang".

Its armored bow, covered with runes and hunting trophies, resembles the head of a wolf, its eyes gleaming with ferocity, eager to tear off its prey's throat.

A dazzling blue light was the first to emerge from the hull of the "Frostfang" – it was the most elite and powerful warriors of the Blackmane Dalian Squad, the Wolf Terminators clad in heavy armor, launching a teleportation assault with lightning speed.

Immediately afterwards, the strike cruisers that accompanied the flagship's charge all turned their broadsides toward the staggering, fleeing Black Ark.

The massive artillery array opened fire in succession, and along with the giant cannonballs that tore through the void, a series of Thunder Eagle gunboats painted in gray-blue rushed out from the bow shuttle pad.

Amidst the gunfire and the shadows of ships, a patch of eerie blue flame, like a magnificent curtain of death, drifted overhead—it was a massive attack group of dozens of Starhawk bombers unleashed by the Provocative-class light cruiser "Rising Feather".

Fenris's wrath has descended.

(End of this chapter)