Warhammer, I'm a nanny, not your father!

Orcs love strong enemies.

They showed unusual enthusiasm for the tin cans, roaring and rushing in from all directions, trying to overwhelm the Space Marines with their huge numbers.

But except for the orc boss, the orc boys are no match for the Space Marines.

Sigismund personally led an elite team. His power sword crackled and he beheaded the two orc bosses at the same time with one sword.

Other warriors also harvested the lives of the orcs with perfect tactical coordination, using grenade launchers and chainswords to carve a bloody path through the orcs' frenzy.

"Don't fight any longer, go to the Primarch!" Appius shouted in the communication channel.

A tide of Orcs stood between them and the Primarch, but the Imperial Fists warriors still fought through the Ork defenses with fearless courage.

However, when they finally broke through the siege and rushed to the most intense battlefield, the battle was nearing its end.

They only had time to see Warboss's huge body fall to the ground.

Looking at the two blood-soaked giants, the Imperial Fists warriors fell into deathly silence.

They can clearly identify who is their genetic father. It is a blood resonance engraved deep in their genes.

Every scar on their armor seemed to tell of the fierceness of the battle, and the long sword in the primarch's hand was still dripping with the blood of orcs.

Shame is gnawing at their hearts.

They should have been the first of the scions to reach the Primarch, but they were late.

When the Father of Genes faced a powerful enemy, it was not the Fists of the Empire but the Sons of War who guarded him.

They had failed their Primarch and their own honor!

"boom--!"

When Dorn turned to look at them, all the warriors knelt on one knee at the same time, making a neat sound of metal clinking.

Appius lowered his proud head, not even having the courage to look up at the Primarch.

Dorn's gaze slowly swept over each Imperial Fists warrior. "The battle is not over yet. Rise, my sons, and fight alongside me."

The Imperial Fists warriors slowly stood up, but the shame they saw beneath their helmets was still barely concealed.

Dorn: "Who is your commander?"

Appius took a step forward and put his right fist to his chest. "I am Weapon Master Smith Appius, my lord."

Dorn's voice was steady. "Appius, Gage. Lead your warriors to support other defense zones and completely eliminate the remaining orcs on the Phalanx."

"As you command, my lord." Appius and Gage simultaneously put their right fists against their chests.

Sons of War and Imperial Fists, the Phalanx now boasts nearly 20,000 Space Marines.

As enemies of the Space Marines, the Orks are numerous.

But without the leadership of the Warboss, the remaining orcs quickly fell into chaos.

Their violent fighting instinct replaced the only tactical coordination and coordinated operations, leaving only scattered charges and impatient infighting.

The Space Marines worked in small teams, moving through the intricate corridors of the Phalanx, and worked closely with the mortals to divide and surround the remaining Orks.

Although the orcs, having lost their unified command, are still fighting stubbornly, their resistance has become disorganized.

The bodies soon piled up like a mountain, and the blood formed sticky streams on the ground.

With the last batch of orcs being eliminated, this brutal boarding battle finally came to an end.

But in the void, a second, larger orc fleet was approaching the Phalanx.

The Imperial Fleet had just experienced a fierce battle when the next one followed.

The war is far from over, but the Empire's support is by no means limited to just two fleets.

In the holographic projection, Love's voice trembled slightly with excitement. "My Lord, the 8th Expeditionary Fleet has leapt to the current galaxy. In addition, there are forty-three secondary expeditionary fleets. They request to contact us!"

Perturabo: "I am Primarch Perturabo. On behalf of my brother Rogal Dorn and I, I offer my deepest respect for your help."

"In the name of the Primarch, I declare that I will temporarily take over the command of the Combined Fleet."

"I now order all of you, all combat units, to immediately adjust course and rush to support the Imperial Fists and the Sons of War!"

"Once all the invading orcs are completely wiped out, my brothers and I will personally meet the heroes of the human empire aboard the Phalanx!"

The Primarch's inspiring declaration received an unprecedented enthusiastic response among the fleet, and all commanders were excited.

The Empire is so vast that for most lords and commanders, meeting the Primarch is an unattainable honor!

Now this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity is before them. Not only can they establish merit in this epic battle, but they can also gain the honor of communicating face to face with the Primarch. They have taken all the good things in the world!

On the tactical star map, dozens of blue identification signals are gathering in the void.

Each secondary expeditionary fleet has at least five cruisers, and the main fleet has at least nearly a hundred battleships.

When these fleets were assembled, more than 300 battleships and more than 1,000 frigates unfolded in the void, like a giant net, rushing towards the orc fleet in a mighty manner.

If we include the fleet that is already engaged in a fierce battle with the orcs, the size of this combined fleet is almost the same as that of the orc fleet in terms of numbers alone.

This is due to the empire's profound war background!

It is true that the empire is not perfect and it has many flaws, which is an objective fact, but weakness has never been one of them.

The root of the problem lies in the vast territory of the empire spanning the galaxy. It is simply too big!

Each expeditionary fleet is equivalent to a battle line, and the Empire maintains tens of thousands of battle lines at the same time.

And within the Empire, there are hundreds of star regions and tens of thousands of worlds that urgently need fleet defense and patrol.

All these posed a huge test to the empire's logistics and deployment. The huge strategic depth also forced the empire's fleet to be deployed in a dispersed manner, indirectly causing the empire to occasionally fall into a numerical disadvantage on local battlefields.

But as long as the empire begins to assemble, it can always crush the enemy with the huge size of its fleet.

And this is far from the limit of the Empire, and more fleets are gathering towards Reach!

The Storm Star Region has at least hundreds of main expeditionary fleets and more than two thousand secondary expeditionary fleets to explore the vast galactic territory.

Even with the astronomical distance limit, only expeditionary fleets from local areas can arrive in a short time.

But we can also assemble at least two hundred expeditionary fleets and ten main fleets!

Since the Human Empire launched the Great Crusade, this is almost the first time that the Human Empire has assembled such a large fleet in a single system.

In the face of this huge force, the orc fleet seems insignificant.

In the face of this steel torrent composed of dozens of fleets, the once powerful orc fleet suddenly seemed insignificant.

When the Imperial Fleet completed the tactical encirclement of the Orc Fleet and formed an absolute numerical advantage.

Every volley of macro cannons and light spears was like the scythe of the god of death, reaping hundreds of orc ships and clearing a huge gap in the orc fleet.

With just a few rounds of devastating firepower, the greenskin fleet that once threatened Reach will be completely annihilated in the cold void.

In the face of absolute strength, even tactics seem redundant.

Perturabo gazed at the Imperial fleet symbols twinkling like stars on the tactical star map and couldn't help but whisper to himself, "Is this the Imperium of Man?"

Not long ago, he was assembling tanks by hand in Olympia, but now he is in charge of thousands of warships and launching grand fleet battles in the vast starry sea.

Even for a Primarch, it was a rather strange experience.

Wop had described the power of the Empire to him countless times, but it was not until this moment, when dozens of fleets gathered here just because of a message from the stars, and when the guns of thousands of warships were pointed at the enemy at the same time, that he truly understood the meaning behind those numbers.

Just like mortals can never experience the excitement of battle through movies, only actual combat is meaningful.

Only when they witnessed the assembly of the Imperial Fleet with their own eyes could they understand how terrifying a behemoth the Empire truly was.

Wop's eyes were filled with anticipation: "Under your leadership, the empire will become far more powerful than it is now!"

Dorn: "Father, is this your promise?"

Wop: "Even if it's a promise, it should be a promise you made to me, right?"

Perturabo: "If this is your wish, then I promise to create for you a more powerful and prosperous empire! Humanity will usher in unprecedented glory!"

Dawn: "Me too."

Wop shook his head. "Not my empire, but the empire of all mankind."

Equality for all only exists in utopia, but at least the human empire can protect mortals in this cruel galaxy.

Mortals are just the countless living beings in the galaxy.

Perturabo: "Whatever you desire, I will obtain it for you."

Dawn: "Me too."

Dawn wasn't good with words, but he felt his brother was right and he just had to second the motion.

The battle is drawing to a close.

There are only a few Ork ships left in the starry sea, and the most troublesome of them are the three huge space hulks.

These behemoths made up of space junk are comparable in size to satellites, and conventional macro cannons and light spear attacks are unlikely to cause fatal damage to them.

Faced with such a difficult target, the Imperial Fleet adopted an unconventional but more efficient elimination plan.

First, concentrate firepower to destroy the engines of the space hulk, and then dozens of vortex torpedoes roar out.

These deadly weapons created massive Warp rifts in reality, consuming entire Space Hulks along with the Orks aboard, wiping them completely from reality.

None of the Imperial commanders had any desire to continue fighting. Rather than wasting precious time on a wrecked space ship, they were more eager to rush to the Phalanx as soon as possible to meet the two legendary Primarchs!

Dozens of lord commanders and space marine officers from the main fleets all rushed to the Phalanx on shuttles shortly after the battle.

The damage to the Phalanx in the naval battle was almost negligible, but traces of fierce fighting remained on the deck and the bridge.

Millions of orc corpses piled up like mountains. If left unattended, spores would absorb nutrients from the orc corpses and grow mushrooms.

Invert Phalanx soldiers shuttled between the cabins, using high-pressure water guns to wash away the coagulated blood clots and pushing piles of green-skinned corpses into the airlock. Every time the hatch was opened, tons of debris would be thrown into the cold void.

This was the scene that greeted the fleet commanders as they crossed the blood-stained bridge of the Phalanx.

Turabo chose to meet with the representatives of these expeditionary fleets in the magnificent dome meeting hall.

When the commanders walked into the hall with awe, they were surprised to find that the person sitting on the main seat was not the Primarch, but a seemingly ordinary mortal.

The two noble Primarchs stood solemnly on both sides like loyal guards.

But this unexpected scene did not cause any objection, as everyone present had heard of the mentor's legendary deeds.

The Primarchs were able to return to the Empire one after another thanks to the guidance of their mentor.

Besides, even the Primarch is willing to serve, so how can they object?

"My Lord!" They all knelt on one knee and paid the highest respect to the Primarch.

Perturabo raised his hand slightly. "You are all heroes of the Empire. No need for formalities. Please take your seats."

The Primarch's praise made the mortal commanders puff out their chests in unison, except for a few Space Marines who were still kneeling on one knee with their heads bowed deeply.

As Perturabo slowly walked towards the group and stopped before them, the warrior said bitterly, "My Lord, we are late."

Perturabo: "Warrior, tell me your name?"

"Kedomo Fricks."

"Stand up, then, my son."

Perturabo placed his hands on Frix's shoulder armor. "Don't be ashamed. No one will blame you. If you wish to pay the price for this, then find my homeworld as soon as possible, before anyone else does."

Fricks's breathing suddenly became disordered. "My Lord, I... I don't understand."

Perturabo: "Invit is my brother's homeworld, while my homeworld is in the Ultima Segmentum, on Olympia."

"And she is in danger. I need you, my sons!"

Fricks's head buzzed, not because of joy, but because he was anxious.

There was only one thing left in his mind: the Primarch's home planet was in danger and his father needed them!

He almost immediately wanted to gather the fleet and leave at all costs, but the Primarch was right in front of him, forcing him to give up the idea.

What made him even more anxious was that he did not know the location of the Primarch's home planet.

The Extreme Star Region is the largest star region in the Milky Way. How can he find the mother planet of the Primarch in the vast sea of ​​stars?

When all the commanders had taken their seats, Perturabo opened the meeting in a steady voice:

"First of all, please allow me and my brothers to once again express our sincerest gratitude for your assistance."

The mortal commander straightened his back with pride. The Primarch's boasting was the highest honor for a mortal, second only to the Emperor himself.