After Warboss Redeye's impassioned speech and a two-hour collective nap, the orks' stamina and WAAAGH energy once again returned to their peak. Accompanied by earth-shattering roars, the green tide once again surged majestically towards the players' positions.
However, when they were halfway there, they were astonished to find that the heavy weapon emplacements, which should have been silent for a long time, once again spewed deadly fire.
Heavy bolter rounds rained down like hail into the orks' charging ranks, each explosion tearing up a shower of flesh and metal fragments. Autocannons roared rhythmically, precisely ripping apart the largest orks.
Why?
Of course, it was because during the orks' rest period, the players' logistics units had already driven transport vehicles to deliver mountains of ammunition crates to the front line. Weapons that had stopped working due to overheating or malfunctions had all been inspected by technical personnel and brought back to life. In fact, it was quite inefficient that it took so long for supplies to arrive.
This time, the players on the front line had also learned their lesson.
Seeing the orks charging through the artillery fire, they didn't even bother to shoot. After all, rifle bullets had limited effect on the thick-skinned Boarboy, so it was better to save their strength.
So, when the ork army charged onto the dune ridge, they were met by a group of players who were also roaring and actively rushing out of the trenches. Both sides directly abandoned all formalities, and a new round of passionate hacking and slashing began with a clatter.
Inside the regimental command post, Joker remained calm about this.
He calmly tore open a wrapper for an energy bar and began to chew it expressionlessly. After all, other players could instantly reset their fatigue and hunger status through death, but as the only person who couldn't die, he had to rely on eating to maintain his physical strength and focus.
"This stuff tastes like a shoe sole," Joker complained while chewing, "Is there any way I can modify myself to be like you, and not need to eat?"
Archer, who was operating the communication equipment and monitoring various channels, said without turning his head, "You'd better keep chewing your shoe sole."
To ensure Joker's vital signs remained normal, this time the logistical supplies specifically delivered a month's worth of fresh water and energy bars for him. Of course, even more exaggerated was that Archer had specially built a private toilet with a simple circulation system next to the command post, just for him.
Speaking of which, this seemed to be some kind of supreme privilege. On this cruel battlefield, covered in yellow sand, only he, Joker, had a private space where he could relieve himself in peace.
"This kind of privilege is better to do without…" Joker muttered softly.
"What did you say?" Archer turned his head in confusion.
"No, nothing," Joker immediately denied, abruptly changing the subject, "Any news from hive city?"
"I was just about to tell you," Archer said, "The two astartes have finished their 'easy kill' in hive city. They are currently en route in a Valkyrie transport plane. The message from hive city is that we only need to hold on for another hour."
"An hour, huh…" Joker looked at the battlefield outside the command post, which had once again descended into chaos, and shook his head helplessly, "Looking at this scene, I think these two piles of orks could keep hacking at each other for another month and still be full of vitality."
No sooner had Joker finished speaking than the situation on the battlefield underwent a drastic change.
A piercing engine roar suddenly came from behind the orks, drowning out all the shouts of battle. Dozens of wild-looking, smoke-belching ork bikes, like arrows shot from a bow, charged up the dunes and slammed into the players' ranks!
In an instant, chaos ensued, and countless players were sent flying into the air by the high-speed bikes.
These bikes were completely different from the Boarboy who rode war boars earlier. They were essentially a pile of junk forcibly held together by a WAAAGH field, with a structure so brutally simple it was outrageous.
Even if a player deeply stabbed their weapon into one, it was impossible to stop it. And for a player who was knocked flying to stabilize themselves in mid-air and accurately stab the wildly swaying ork in the driver's seat was even more difficult than ascending to heaven.
In just an instant, the players' melee frontline was completely shattered by this sudden wave of bike charges.
"Waaah!" Joker, who had just crammed the rest of his energy bar into his mouth, widened his eyes and quickly swallowed it. "Quick! Get the heavy bolters and autocannons to fire!"
Actually, without Joker's order, the operators of the heavy weapons on the emplacements had already noticed these rampaging steel beasts.
The autocannon operators began to laboriously raise their gun barrels, trying to aim at the fast-moving targets. But these cumbersome anti-tank guns were originally designed to bombard heavy armor or clustered infantry, and facing the orks' wild bikes, their traverse speed seemed so slow and powerless.
The heavy bolters were slightly better; they frantically spewed fire, trying to create a barrage along the bikes' charging path. However, the orks' driving skills were utterly chaotic; they swayed left and right, sometimes accelerating, sometimes turning, always managing to dodge most of the shells at an incredible angle. The few bikes that were hit only burst into a shower of sparks, then, spewing thicker black smoke, continued their insane charge forward.
As for the heavy lumber-gun emplacements, they were deserted. The operators had long since grabbed their entrenching tools and self-defense weapons and, roaring, rushed down from the emplacements to join the frenzied melee during the second round of close combat.
For a moment, this bike assault team, composed of scrap metal, was like entering an uninhabited land, about to break through the players' chaotic defense line and directly crash into the almost unguarded first trench!
Such a critical situation, however, made Joker calm down.
He no longer roared into the communicator but said to Archer beside him, "Once these orks charge into the first position, detonate the explosives."
That's right, a large amount of remote-controlled explosives was also buried under the positions held by the players.
This was a usage Joker had thought of during the halftime break, watching the logistics units transport truckloads of standard military explosives. Since he didn't know what else these conventional explosives could be used for when tactical nuclear bombs were available, he simply buried them under each position as a last resort.
Other than that, Joker couldn't think of any other use for these explosives. The regimental command post already had that immensely powerful tactical nuclear bomb as a final trump card; burying more explosives would only be icing on the cake. He couldn't possibly bury a circle of them under his exclusive toilet, could he…?