At the same time, at a hidden port somewhere on Karl-2.
Yag-Dodo was leading the last few thousand remnants of the Hokage Clan, making a difficult journey. Sasuke rode his champion Squig, "Chidori," bringing up the rear to guard the column. Yag-Dodo himself led the Shinobi Boyz as they set traps along the sides of the corridor to prevent any pursuit.
Yag-Dodo looked back. In the distant core area, flames reached the sky, and the sound of explosions was constant. He could feel it—the heavy Waaagh! field that had shrouded Karl-2 for over a year was beginning to vanish.
Yag-Dodo let out a soft sigh and gripped the "Cloud-Pattern Forehead Protector" that Itachi had given him.
Itachi had actually done it. In less than three months, he had overturned all of Karl-2. He had killed Siss and Chandler and become the master of this space station. Meanwhile, Yag-Dodo could only lead his remnants in a pathetic escape.
"Boss, do we really gots to go?" Sasuke rode his Squig to Yag-Dodo's side, his voice full of reluctance. "We still gots thousands of bruvvas. We can fight 'em!"
"Fight? Wiv wot?" Yag-Dodo shook his head with a bitter smile. "We couldn't even beat dat bug, let alone all dem Humie armies. Stayin' now just means dyin'."
He looked toward the end of the dark tunnel, his gaze becoming incredibly firm.
"We go back to Dolido. Back to Boss Ragnar's side. Dere's more Boyz dere, more loot. We grow dere, we get biggah dere. One day, we'll come back."
One day, I will stand before Itachi and fight him fairly. I'll let him know that I, Yag-Dodo, am no longer that little Gretchin who only knows how to pick through trash!
Of course, he wouldn't let anyone else know those thoughts.
"Move it!" Yag-Dodo shouted. "We're goin' back to Dolido!"
The remnants of the Hokage Clan followed Yag-Dodo in silence, vanishing into the boundless darkness.
Billions of kilometers away, on the agricultural world of Dolido.
Warm sunlight spilled over endless green fields where herds of Squigs grazed leisurely on mushrooms. A few Ork Boyz were wrestling and playing by a river; the air was thick with the aroma of mushrooms and braised meat.
Ragnar the Great Stomach stood before a massive iron pot a hundred meters in diameter. He held a giant spoon nearly as tall as himself, stirring a batch of braised meat meant to feed over ten thousand people. The pot contained stewed Squig meat, giant mushrooms, and various wild greens he couldn't name. It bubbled and hissed, releasing an enticing fragrance.
Ragnar stirred the pot while humming a tuneless little song. Drool leaked from the corner of his mouth and dripped into the stew.
"No mattah how bittah life gets, it's still jolly~" "Walkin' fru da crowds, I'm hummin' me little song~"
Just as he was singing happily, a dazzling green light flashed across the sky. Ragnar looked up toward the heavens in confusion. The green light drew closer and brighter, descending rapidly toward his location.
SPLAT!
The green light slammed into the iron pot, sending the thick, un-solidified stew flying into the air. A powerful shockwave blew away several nearby Ork Boyz, but Ragnar remained rooted to the spot.
A familiar psychic aura washed over him. Ragnar frowned, and the smile vanished from his face.
"Siss?"
Wasn't he the overseer on Karl-2? Why would he turn into a green light and crash here? Could it be...
Before Ragnar could think further, the stew in the pot underwent a bizarre transformation. The thick liquid began to wriggle on its own. Chunks of meat and mushrooms rolled and combined until they formed several crooked, massive words:
"BEWARE DA HOKAGE CLAN"
Ragnar stared at the words in the pot, looking lost. He scratched his bald head, a puzzled expression on his face.
"Hokage Clan? Wot's dat? Wot tiny little clan popped out from which corner?"
"To fink dat Siss, dat lad, would run all dis way 'fore he croaked just to warn me?"
Ragnar used his giant spoon to scoop up a large portion of the stew and tasted it.
"Mmm. Tastes alright, but a bit bland."
He smacked his lips and then used the spoon to stir the words into a messy pulp.
"Don't care 'bout no Hokage Clan or Mizukage Clan. If dey dare mess wiv me, I'll stew 'em all!"
With that, he resumed humming his tune and stirring the pot. However, deep in his eyes, a flicker of uncharacteristic solemnity passed. Siss never joked. This Hokage Clan was definitely not simple.
He silently noted the name and then shouted to a Nob in the distance:
"You! Go find out for me wot dis 'Hokage Clan' fing is!"
With the death of the two Orks capable of serving as the Warboss of Karl-2, the Expeditionary Fleet had achieved its first major victory. Now, they only needed to deal with the remaining Orks.
The cleanup operation proceeded smoothly. The Greenskins, having lost their common leader and collective will, had turned into a disorganized mess. Without the empowerment of the Waaagh! field, their proud "I-Believe-It-Works" technology regressed to a primitive state in a very short time.
It was as if those miraculous "imagined" creations had never existed.
In a discarded armory in Sector A, a group of Evil Sunz Boyz surrounded a massive "Big-Boom Gun," frantic with worry. This super-cannon, which could once blast through the hull of an Imperial Frigate, was now a pile of actual scrap metal. No matter how much they kicked it, smashed it, or screamed at the barrel, the muzzle remained cold and unresponsive.
A short-tempered Nob angrily swung his choppa at the gun's body. The choppa snapped on impact.
"Zog it! Why ain't me Big-Boom goin' boom?!" the Nob roared, kicking an ammo crate nearby. The crate split open on the floor, and the shells rolled out, but the moment they touched the air, they turned into useless waste.
At the mid-level platform port, a newly completed Ork warship was preparing to set sail to raid another Ork gang. But the moment the engines started, the entire ship shuddered violently. Pipes burst simultaneously, spraying steam and oil everywhere. The once-roaring engines let out an overburdened groan and then died completely. The ship became a giant iron coffin floating in orbit. Hundreds of Deathskulls Boyz were trapped in space, unable to call for help.
Even the most ordinary choppas in the hands of the Boyz began to rust and break. Blades that were once sharp enough to easily cleave through Human armor would now chip against wood. The once-obedient war-squigs became frenzied and began biting each other, killing many of their masters.
"It's no good! Da camp collapsed!" a terrified scream rang out.
Not far away, an Ork fortress made of scrap metal and cement—once indestructible—collapsed into ruins without being attacked. Countless Orks were buried beneath the rubble, letting out desperate screams.
Panic spread through Karl-2 like a terrifying virus. The Orks discovered with horror that everything they relied on for survival was crumbling in an instant. They were no longer invincible, all-conquering Ork Boyz; they were just a bunch of barbarians in tattered iron scraps holding rusted blades.
Worse still, the clan system had completely disintegrated. Without a Warboss to suppress them, the "base code" of the Orks took over. The clans, already full of contradictions, immediately split into countless small gangs of dozens or hundreds.
The Orks no longer thought about fighting the humans. Instead, they fought each other over the last bit of moldy stew, half a bucket of fuel, or even a relatively intact piece of scrap metal, clashing until heads were split open.
A gang of thirty Deathskulls Boyz engaged in a fierce battle with twenty Blood Axe commandos over a functional war-buggy. The two sides slaughtered each other in a narrow corridor for a full half-hour; in the end, they wiped each other out, leaving no survivors. When the Expeditionary Force squad arrived, they could only cover their noses and move on. As for the buggy they had died for, it became complete scrap the moment the battle ended, deprived of the Waaagh! field's support.
The entirety of Karl-2 turned into a massive, chaotic arena. Corpses, burning ruins, and the screams of combat were everywhere.
"Third Company, attention! Approximately five hundred meters ahead of you, two large Ork gangs are clashing. Commencing fire cover immediately!"
"Copy that! Opening fire!"
"Seventh Medical Squad, proceed to the southeast entrance of the core area immediately. There are numerous casualties there."
"Heavy Artillery units, conduct carpet bombing on Ruins No. 7 in Sector B! Repeat, carpet bombing on Ruins No. 7 in Sector B!"
Gaus stood on the turret of a Leman Russ tank, holding a communicator and calmly issuing orders. His voice was steady and powerful, devoid of panic. His black officer's uniform was stained with Ork blood, and the row of medals on his chest gleamed under the artificial lights. The soldiers executed his commands with the precision of a fine machine, clearing each sector systematically.
Occasionally, a few Orks dared to organize a resistance against the Expeditionary Force. However, the moment they gathered, they were met with devastating artillery fire. Without the empowerment of the Waaagh! field, ordinary Ork Boyz were utterly fragile before the well-equipped and well-trained Crusade troops. Bolters easily punched through the scrap metal plates on their bodies, while their "Big Shootas"—once driven by the power of "I-believe-it-works"—could no longer fire bullets capable of penetrating carapace armor.
Raynor stood atop a fighter jet, looking down at the space station below. This station, which had caused such a massive headache for the entirety of Brevis, finally returned to the embrace of the Imperium of Man.
"My Lord, the preliminary statistics are in."
A young staff officer walked quickly to Raynor's side, respectfully handing him a thick report.
"As of now, we have neutralized approximately 16.15 million Greenskins. All major areas of the core zone, the mid-level platforms, and three large ports are under our total control. The remaining Ork gangs number about 121.75 million, but they no longer pose a large-scale threat."
Raynor took the report and flipped through it casually. The report recorded the casualties of various units, the quantity of seized materials, and the distribution map of the Orks in detail. The handwriting was neat and the data was thorough; clearly, this staff officer had put a lot of effort into it.
"Good job," Raynor nodded and returned the report to him. "Tell the soldiers not to let their guard down. The vitality of Greenskins is more tenacious than imagined. A new Mek or Boss could emerge from any corner at any time."
"The cleanup must be thorough. Every corridor, every ruin—check them all carefully. Leave no hidden dangers."
He remembered the case of Elko, the "Machine Enemy." The resilience of the Orks was never to be underestimated.
"Yes, My Lord!" The staff officer gave a crisp Aquila salute and turned to leave.
Raynor set down the report and looked out toward space. At this moment, a bizarre and spectacular "disintegration" was occurring at the outskirts of Karl-2. The parts of the station that the Orks had "grown" over the past year using countless scraps, discarded warships, and even asteroid fragments were slowly breaking apart without the support of the Waaagh! field.
Massive chunks of scrap iron, twisted metal supports, broken ship cannons, and countless pieces of trash and corpses detached from the station like dandelion seeds, drifting into the void. These fragments, drawn by Karl-2's gravity, gradually gathered to form a massive debris belt circling the entire planet. Sunlight reflected off the belt, creating a mottled glow that looked like an ugly necklace draped around Karl-2.
However, it was this necklace that symbolized the destruction of the Ork regime on Karl-2. The station, which had once exceeded 300 kilometers in diameter, was "shrinking" at a rate visible to the naked eye. At this speed, it would return to its original Imperial design within a month: a transit station approximately 100 kilometers in diameter.
"My Lord, Mr. Mike, the head of the Engineering Department, requests an audience. He says he has a very urgent matter to report," Gaus's voice came through the communicator.
"Let him in."
Soon, an old engineer with graying hair, a face covered in grease, and work clothes stained with paint and oil walked in quickly. He carried a thick stack of crumpled blueprints, his face full of worry and his brow furrowed into a knot.
"Lord Raynor, the situation is terrible! Absolutely terrible!" Alderman burst into the room, unable to stop himself from complaining loudly. "Those Greenskins are a bunch of lunatics! Complete madmen! They modified the entire station's power system beyond recognition! I've been in engineering for fifty years and I have never seen anything so ridiculous!"
Raynor poured him a glass of water and motioned for him to sit down and take his time. Alderman took a drink, caught his breath, and then spread the blueprints out on the table. The papers were covered in messy lines and symbols, with many areas marked in red ink with words like "DANGER," "INCOMPREHENSIBLE," and "COULD EXPLODE AT ANY TIME."
"Look here," Alderman pointed to a region on the map. "This is the core power station. The Orks ripped out the original fusion reactors and replaced them with twelve 'I-Believe-It-Works Generators' fueled by Squig droppings!"
"They even raised hundreds of electric Squigs next to the generators, saying it would make the machines 'more punchy'! If those damned Squigs get even a little restless, the entire power station will blow!"
"And here," he pointed to another area. "This is the gravity control room. The Orks cut all the wiring and hung a massive iron ball from the ceiling with chains. They said the faster the ball spins, the stronger the gravity!"
"Now, the gravity across the entire station is extremely unstable. In some places, it's three times normal, and in others, there's almost zero gravity—people just start floating while they're walking."
"The scariest part is the defense system!" Alderman's voice trembled slightly. "All the orbital defense cannons were converted to manual aiming by the Orks! They strapped a dozen telescopes to the barrels, saying it would let them hit targets further away!"
"Furthermore, they replaced all the shells with tin buckets filled with nails and rocks! Right now, those defense cannons couldn't even take down a small landing craft!"
Raynor looked at the absurd designs on the blueprints, his mouth twitching slightly. He really wanted to explain the principles of Ork Waaagh! energy to the old man, but he didn't even know where to start.