At the main position, the bustling construction scene was comparable to a large-scale construction site. Players wielded their entrenching tools, digging foxholes with all their might.
"This damn sand!" Pyro, one of the players, complained loudly while digging furiously. "I dig a shovel full, and half of it immediately fills back in from the sides!"
"Be grateful, at least this is the leeward side," said RNGesus, wiping sand from his face, "If it were the windward side, after one shovel, nothing would probably be left."
"Ugh, so why don't we just use tanks to charge the orks directly?" Pyro leaned on his entrenching tool, catching his breath. "We have quite a few leman russ Main Battle Tanks now, don't we?"
"That's only for cultists and genestealers," RNGesus said. "Are you planning to use a blitzkrieg against the orks? Or perhaps play tank-on-tank combat with them? I must admit, you have a vivid imagination. All our current tanks were bought with merit, and each one is a treasure."
"That's true," Pyro realized. "Given the orks' numbers and organization, if we really brought out a tank Cluster, it would probably turn into a meat grinder. We don't have that many tanks to waste right now; it's already a blessing from the Emperor that those temporarily trained workers in the rear can produce qualified artillery shells."
"Speaking of which, have those two space marines woken up?" Pyro looked around, trying to spot the two towering figures in the crowd. "Why aren't they here?"
"Why would they come here now, to dig foxholes with us?" RNGesus looked at him as if he were an idiot. "What do you think space marines are? Some kind of large humanoid engineering machine?"
"Hmm..." Pyro seriously imagined a giant, two-meter-three-tall man in power armor, wielding a massive entrenching tool proportionate to his size, digging a standard foxhole with a single scoop. "...A bit grotesque."
"But speaking of large engineering machinery, we should have some of that, right? Why isn't it at the position?"
"Before you ask a question, can you use your brain? I feel like I've become the straight man in some comedy manga," RNGesus pointed weakly at the rugged sandy terrain in the distance. "How do you plan to transport those large engineering machines over? Those things aren't as durable as a leman russ tank; if they get stuck in the sand, you'll be crying."
"By the way, I think I'm suffering from heatstroke," RNGesus suddenly stopped. "It's too damn hot here; my sweat dries up as soon as it comes out. I feel like my back is covered in salt. Give me a hand."
"Alright." Pyro nodded decisively, raised his laser rifle, and fired a shot directly at RNGesus's face.
"Bang!"
With a soft sound, RNGesus fell to the ground. The others around him, who were diligently working, merely glanced over and then, unfazed, continued digging their foxholes.
A few seconds later, RNGesus, having revived, jogged over and let out a long breath: "Alright, full health!"
He didn't immediately start working, but skillfully dragged his still-warm corpse and threw it into a deep pit, blasted out with explosives a hundred meters away.
The pit was already densely packed with thousands of corpses, all remnants of players who had chosen to commit suicide to revive and reset their data due to extreme physical exhaustion or abnormal conditions like heatstroke and dehydration. Since dying at this point didn't result in any equipment loss, players naturally chose the most convenient method.
Fortunately, everyone here was a player. If any native Imperial human were to witness this scene, it would be truly horrifying. No matter how bravely one died, this was not the way to sacrifice oneself.
However, thanks to the players' advantage of being able to be at full stamina at all times, the progress of the trench excavation consistently maintained an extremely fast pace, and even accelerated as the players became more skilled.
Once the foxholes were completed, the players finally felt some psychological security. But this was far from the completion stage; next was to dig communication trenches to the left, right, and rear, connecting the individual foxholes into a complete defensive system. This process was extremely painful, but jagged shallow ditches finally began to connect the isolated bunkers.
At the same time, players dispatched to observation posts hid in the shadows of rocks or dunes, scanning the distant horizon inch by inch with high-powered binoculars. Their walkie-talkies remained silent, breaking only in emergencies.
Players at the position quickly filled sandbags with excavated soil. These sandbags were immediately used to reinforce trench walls and construct machine gun nests.
Excess soil was dragged away with tarpaulins and spread out thinly to avoid forming conspicuous mounds. Finally, a large desert camouflage net was erected over the trenches and command posts, with dried grass and shrubs found nearby stuck into it.
Ultimately, after four terra hour, this sturdy and concealed defensive line was completed. From the air, it almost merged with the surrounding desert environment; from the front, the enemy could only see rolling sand dunes.
Although covered in sand, the players were all in high spirits, waiting in their respective combat positions. Heavy machine guns were cleverly positioned at flanking fire support points, their fields of fire perfectly covering the ridgelines of the dunes.
The artillery battery in the rear had also calculated its preset firing data, ready to provide fire support to designated areas at any time.
If a normal Astra Militarum unit were to undertake engineering construction of this scale, it would be impossible to complete it in just four terra hour; even with another four terra hour, they might not finish.
Just then, the radio in the regimental command post crackled with a call sign mixed with some static: "Hello, ground forces, can you hear me? This is 'Zobayan'."
Joker immediately grabbed the communicator: "This is ground, we hear you. Is there a situation?"
Previously, they hadn't deployed Valkyrie for reconnaissance, fearing it would disturb the orks too early. But now that the battle barge had descended from the sky, the small disturbance of a Valkyrie was inconsequential.
"Yes," Zobayan's voice came through the communicator, with the roar of the Valkyrie's engines in the background. "I see two ork warbands fighting each other, a very large scale, very large! So large that the green extends beyond the horizon, I think I've stumbled into the orks' main battlefield!"
"Then where are the orks you saw three days ago, the ones heading towards the battle barge?" Joker immediately grasped the key point, asking urgently.
"I'm going to check now... Hmm? What is that?"
Suddenly, Zobayan's bewildered voice came through the communicator.
"Holy crap, I've been hit!"
This was followed by a series of piercing metallic tearing sounds, explosions, and Zobayan's final scream, then the communication completely cut off, leaving only the static of current.
Joker expressionlessly put down the communicator, sighed, and hung up.