The world of Sylvia - or Garekk, as it was known in the God Emperor's time - was divided into five distinct continents, each one unique in often very subtle ways as the entirety of the world mostly shared the same climate, but had distinct geological features.
The continent of Kartha, where the Communications Jammer was located and destroyed, was mostly comprised of tall mountain ranges, crags, deep valleys, treacherous cliffs, and jagged peaks; there were only a few – at least, relative to the rest of the planet – major Ork Settlements within the region and most of them were mining operations, harvesting raw materials from the mountains.
The continent of Zerali, however, was the exact opposite as the whole of it was essentially just one flat plain, containing a single, gigantic settlement, where billions of Orks gathered in a great, stinking chaotic pile.
Varhaldra was a mixture of plains, hills, valleys, and a few mountain ranges, containing thousands of Ork Settlements and even a major city.
Karanis was a vast, frozen desert – an icy hellhole so cold that not even the Greenskins bothered colonizing it, containing small pockets of survivors that dwelt beneath the ice – somehow.
And, finally, there was the continent of Marduk, where the Warboss ruled from a gargantuan Ork Settlement that encompassed a total land area of over fifty thousand square kilometers, riddled with guns and vehicles and billions and billions of Ork Boyz, Nobz, and all sorts of deadly contraptions that the Orks were, no doubt, very proud of.
My job, which was assigned to me by the Custodians, was to assassinate the Warboss – a mission that would take me deep behind enemy lines. Of course, there was no one else here more specialized for such a thing, honestly. The Custodians themselves would be spearheading the main invasion force into Varhaldra, while the rest of the forces fanned out to assault every single Ork stronghold at once. It was good, I mused, to know that the Custodians trusted me enough now for such an important task. Among the Orks, a Warboss was a figure of much authority and power. The rank didn't hold any emotional significance as the Orks were generally built to usurp each other, but the sudden death of the Warboss in a time of great crisis should cripple their command structure, even if only temporarily.
The plan was simple: attack the Orks in a lightning maneuver that'll cripple them before they could mount a proper counterattack, allowing our forces to wash over them quickly. Orks, from my own memories, thrived best during prolonged conflicts, during which their love and passion for war trumped the spirits of men, which naturally waned over time. I suppose it was in that one area of war that humanity couldn't possibly triumph over the Orks; their race actively craved and enjoyed the brutality and the carnage of a bloody war, while most humans did not.
For all the satisfaction I felt when I destroyed the enemies of humanity and devoured their flesh, I couldn't quite claim to enjoy any of it – not in the same manner as the Orks, at least. Even when they were losing, they won, because they had fun.
With the Custodes and the Lucifer Blacks on our side, however, I figured this war couldn't possibly last for more than a single year.
Once the beachhead was established, the expeditionary forces from Remus and Romulus, aided by dozens of contingents of Tech-Priests, wasted absolutely no time in the construction of a proper base of operations, from which they rode out to war, spreading across the entirety of the planet in a matter of hours; infantrymen rolled out in great legions, numbering in their billions, accompanied by armored divisions that appeared almost like a living sea of metal as their thunderous engines boomed and roared, Imperial Aircrafts flying overhead to wage war in the sky against the Ork Aircrafts, bathing the clouds with fire.
The Orks responded as quickly as they could, but not nearly quickly enough. And, soon, the Ork Settlements that were closest to the beachhead fell – one by one. Eventually, however, the initial advance slowed down down until the actual lines of war were established where the Orks managed to mount successful defensive actions.
Of course, I would have preferred to have joined my brothers and sisters on the front line, to rip and tear the Orks apart until there was nothing left of them. The Greenskins had been a thorn on my side since I arrived on this planet, which was understandable, but the very thought of them left me very much annoyed. Still, that did not mean I had no influence in the battlefield. Duncan Thorpe, whom I'd enhanced to become superhuman, was making quite a name for himself among the Guardsmen in the Zerali Theater. I didn't get the full picture, of course, as far away as I was, but Duncan became known as something of a hero, helping and saving whoever he could, whenever he could.
It hadn't even been a week since the war began. I'd spent all that time training under the tutelage of Lord Khars, learning to use my new abilities to their fullest.
All communications ceased once I was dropped about five thousand miles away from the Marduk line, just outside the main Ork Stronghold, where the Warboss reigned supreme; as it turned out, falling from the sky without a parachute was easily remedied by creating my own wings – as I'd done before. The land around me was covered in ashes and soot, the soil dead and dark. The smell of sulfur and death and blood and metal lingered about in the air. The Ork Settlement itself stood behind tall walls of blackened stone, smoke rising from the distance. The faded image of the Imperial Aquila, imprinted upon the stone, served to remind me of the fact that this place had once been an Imperial City, the Capital of Sylvia.
There were no other humans here. I had nothing to fear and definitely no reason to hold back anything.
With but an absent thought, I created a full clone of a Custodian and imbued it with a preset soul that was loyal, obedient, fearless, indomitable, and an utter juggernaut in melee – in short, it was a metaphysical replica of Lord Khars himself, imperfect, but as close to the real one as I could get it to be. Unlike Lord Khars, however, my replica lacked his centuries' worth of experience, which was why I designed this soul preset as capable of learning from all the memories of the dead clones it'd once inhabited, all of them slain by Lord Khars in hand to hand combat, each time taking longer and longer to put down until Lord Khars was forced to resort to using more than half of his martial prowess to finally kill the fifteenth clone. The one that stood before me was the sixteenth and the Custodians unanimously agreed that, even without Auromite Power Armor, my clone, whom I dubbed simply as Kharson, should be able to defeat and disarm even the greatest of the Adeptus Astartes in melee.
And, I knew that as well, because I had plenty of experience fighting Traitor Astartes to notice the difference in speed and power.
In addition to the martial arts knowledge from Lord Khars, I also implanted all I knew about the [Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist] martial arts into the soul preset, allowing Kharson – and, really, any vessel I implant the soul into – to make use of it.
Kharson was too bulky and too tall to fit in Astartes Power Armor and, of course, Aurumite Power Armor wasn't something I could just pick up. So, Kharson wore a sized-up version of the Standard Pattern Lucifer Black Carapace Armor – light, durable, and far more advanced than anything any Guardsman could possibly wear. I also gave him a single Power Sword to wield against our foes and two backup combat knives. I had no firearms that fit his grip properly, however, and so I eschewed that path entirely. Kharson was a monster in melee and he shall remain that way.
Which was why I then created three more of him and gave them all the same arms and armor. I could've made more, but coordinating a larger team just wasn't in my skill set. And, despite their aptitude for combat, the Kharson Team still required my commands to actually function. I could've made the soul preset capable of true independent thought, but the Custodians – with the God Emperor's blessing – forbade me from ever creating Abominable Intelligence, even in the form of a soul.
I did not question the God Emperor's command. And the thought simply never occurred to me since.
As for myself, I'd taken my [Enhanced Human] form and enhanced it further by splicing the genetic and physical traits of the Custodians, resulting in a body that was still the same height as I'd always been, but possessing a level of strength, speed, and durability that was almost equal to that of a Custodian and certainly far greater than an Adeptus Astartes, even in Power Armor. The mere idea was scary, especially when I used my new body in conjunction with my [Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist]. Lord Khars found that out firsthand when I, for the first time since we started sparring, managed to trap him in a joint-lock, using only martial arts, and forced him to yield.
Of course, I never won another victory after that, but that was to be expected.
"We move together," I said, turning to the very tall figures who stood at my side. "We climb over this wall and head straight to the Warboss. Reports indicate that Warboss Zurkazul commands the WAAAGH from his fortress, which stands at the center of the city. Our goal is to get to that fortress and eliminate him. Before that, however, we kill as many of the Orks as we can, without drifting away from our mission. We proceed at my command – now!"
And with that, all five of us began scaling the walls – a task that would've been impossible to do without equipment, but the Kharsons were as far removed from humanity as humans could be and I wasn't far behind them. It took us only ten seconds to climb a wall that stood at a height of a hundred meters.
"Oi! There'z oomies!" A large number of Ork Boyz, who'd been manning this section of the wall, roared as they spotted us. At a glance, I counted about a thousand of them, each one armed with both a choppah and a shootah. I did not need to issue another command as Team Kharson raised their Power Swords and charged, nearly blurring out of sight as they moved, leaving behind a trail of blood and severed limbs and heads within moments. The Nobz faced the same fate as the lowly Ork Boyz, cut down by the Kharsons. Hundreds died within seconds, their bodies cut apart into little more than ribbons.
And then, after fifteen seconds, the Kharsons regrouped around me, spotless and pristine, looking as though they'd just come from polishing and cleaning their armors. I didn't even have to do anything. And that was the terrifying part, I figured. Because a big part of me did not like the idea of being idle – of being the one in command. I was afraid that I'd somehow lose myself by being greater than who I used to be. Then again, it was a little too late for that at this point.
I glanced around. This section of the wall had been cleared, but the other Ork Boyz and Nobs were beginning to notice our presence. Many of them were already charging, in fact, shooting at us with their shootahs and big shootahs. Their aim was poor, but they'd hit us sooner or later and Carapace Armor, while greater than Flak Armor, wasn't designed to withstand sustained and withering fire. The Orks, the ones down below, still hadn't noticed us, however, though it was only a matter of time. That they had no alarm system was honestly perlexing. I turned to the Kharsons. "Let's go."
We all jumped down and entered the Ork city.
AN: Chapter 58 is up on (Pat)reon!