Chapter 148: The Killing Tank
After Schneider killed the largest, greenest Ork leader, the battle was nearly over.
Together with his four other battle brothers, twenty-eight “Storm Squad” soldiers whom even the Space Marines considered formidable, and the infantry regiment’s fire support, they had wiped out the fifty or so Orks charging alongside that greenskin leader.
The abilities of the Space Marines needed no explanation. Except for Schneider’s encounter with an enhanced greenskin leader who could actually hold his own for a short time, his battle brothers encountered few worthy opponents.
Ordinary greenskins didn’t stand a chance against the electromagnetic rifles wielded by the Storm Squad’s special forces; unlike with the G9 rifles, these greenskins often died after taking just a dozen rounds.
Once he confirmed that all the greenskins had been killed and there were no survivors who could expose their presence, he finally felt at ease.
Originally, they hadn’t planned on intervening.
The Fourth Infantry Regiment’s offensive was intended to serve as cover for their mission. Successfully eliminating all the greenskins in the area was, of course, ideal, as killing all enemies made for a perfectly covert infiltration.
Even if the attack failed, it wouldn’t have mattered much. Once enough attention was drawn, the 33-member special operations team could still bypass the battlefield undetected from the flanks while the main force kept the enemy occupied.
In fact, this had been their initial plan.
However, after observing the front-line situation, their Battalion Commander had a change of heart and decided to execute the first strategy: kill all enemies.
Schneider knew it was because Battalion Leader Martins couldn’t bear to see the regular soldiers fighting and dying just to cover their mission.
Of course, he hadn’t opposed it either. As long as they killed all the greenskins, none would escape to report back, and with only a few dozen left, wiping them out wouldn’t be too troublesome.
And besides, it would give them a chance to exercise.
After the battle ended, Schneider took off his helmet, revealing a shiny, bald forehead.
He felt a particular gaze on him, so he turned and saw the man in the red cap staring at him.
Normally, Schneider looked down on and ignored these mortals, but at that moment, he thought of how this man, Tadius, had managed to do what his fallen brother couldn’t.
Although he hadn’t accomplished any grand feat, he had faced death without fear, maintaining the dignity of a warrior even in the face of the end.
He was someone worth respecting.
On impulse, Schneider nodded slightly at the man in the red cap before turning to leave.
Lide Meshek came to his senses.
He had actually survived.
Watching the Space Marine’s battle with that greenskin, he had no doubt he would have died hundreds of times over if he’d been in the Marine’s place.
It seemed that, as a mere mortal, there was still a vast gulf between him and these superhuman warriors.
Still, it looked like they had won the battle.
He slowly lowered his rifle and turned to find his commander.
They still needed to clean up the battlefield and carry back the wounded and even the bodies of the dead. For those in poor condition, they at least had to retrieve symbols of their identity like their armbands or badges.
Once they’d cleaned up the battlefield, they would retreat.
This position wasn’t one they could hold long-term. The fortifications the greenskins had set up were already weak, and they’d just been bombarded; moreover, they were too far from other friendly lines for easy reinforcement.
Together, these issues meant that if the greenskins counterattacked, they would be in a poor position to resist.
However, abandoning this position didn’t mean the operation had been pointless.
Aside from covering the special operations team, they had inflicted significant damage on the enemy’s living forces.
In this battle, nearly five hundred greenskins had been killed. On the human side, over three hundred soldiers had been lost.
This casualty ratio was even higher than in their defensive battles.
Of course, there were specific reasons for this.
After all, the cost to the humans wasn’t only in lives; they had also expended over six hundred heavy artillery shells.
If they hadn’t recently received a shipment of newly manufactured shells from Revival City, they wouldn’t have been able to afford firing so many rounds in just one hour.
Among the greenskins killed, at least half had been blown to pieces in the earlier bombardment. Of the remaining two hundred or so, over fifty had been taken down by the special operations team, leaving the Fourth Infantry Regiment with a kill count of barely a hundred greenskins.
Still, a kill ratio of almost 3:1 was acceptable.
But the risks involved couldn’t be ignored.
This time, they’d won, achieving total annihilation of the enemy.
But what if they hadn’t?
If not for Meshek executing several officers to enforce discipline and personally leading the charge with the battalion commander, they might very well have crumbled under pressure.
Once morale broke, the casualties during retreat would have skyrocketed. Not only would they have failed to kill the greenskins, but they also would’ve suffered exponentially greater losses during the enemy’s pursuit. They might not have been able to stop a total collapse even if they reached their original position, and that would have been disastrous.
In war, the winning side always reaps greater rewards.
And their victory here had more benefits than simply killing off a large number of greenskins—it boosted the army’s morale.
This was a hard-fought battle, but they had won. Despite some twists in the process, victory lifted the troops’ morale, combat confidence, and experience. Those who survived a direct encounter with greenskins would fear them less in the future.
When they were adventurers, the greenskins had left a deep psychological scar.
Any relief from their greenskin phobia was a gain.
…
While the Fourth Infantry Regiment was cleaning up the battlefield, the 33-member special operations team had already set off again.
From this point on, no other friendly forces would cover them.
But they didn’t need it.
After breaking through the densest enemy lines and reaching the rear, they entered a sixty-kilometer-wide, nearly hundred-kilometer-deep urban ruin. Here, greenskins couldn’t possibly guard every single spot.
In fact, with only tens of thousands of greenskins in this vast “territory” of theirs, there were gaps everywhere.
Occasionally, they’d spot greenskins or Gretchins, but they were rarely able to detect the special operations team’s presence.
The Space Marines’ stealth capabilities were exceptional. Despite wearing heavy power armor, they could move almost silently when they chose to. As for the 28 special operatives, they too were well-versed in stealth tactics.
They spotted the enemy first in almost every encounter, rarely the other way around.
In deep enemy territory, they avoided fighting whenever possible, reducing the risk of exposure.
If forced into combat—either discovered or blocked by enemies directly in their path—they would then engage.
And when they did, they avoided firearms.
Silently approaching, they struck swiftly with combat knives and daggers as their primary weapons.
Even Martins’ chainsword didn’t roar; he relied on the serrated blade to tear his enemies apart.
In truth, nothing here was worthy of revving up the chainsword.
They continued their journey through the ruins for nearly a day, with only a few hours’ rest.
They ventured deeper and expanded their reconnaissance range as much as possible.
Unfortunately, the greenskins were difficult to communicate with, and they didn’t understand their language, making it impossible to capture prisoners for interrogation.
But on the second afternoon, they made a significant discovery.
They found a greenskin staging area.
Sixty kilometers behind the front line, a Storm Squad detachment spotted a group of Gretchins driving trucks and pushing carts toward a specific location.
After reporting the sighting, the entire team advanced toward that direction, eventually finding the staging area.
The greenskins had cleared a large open area, where over ten thousand greenskin creatures gathered noisily. About a third were greenskin Boyz, while there were nearly twice as many Gretchins.
Gretchins were another type of greenskin, born from the same spores, but smaller, weaker, and far more cowardly than the Boyz. However, they were equally brutal, especially when they sensed weakness in their enemies. When facing formidable foes, they’d break ranks and flee without Ork supervision; but when their foes were weak, they’d become ruthless butchers, delighting in slaughter.
In greenskin society, Gretchins served as laborers, Ork servants, or even food.
In this staging area, the sheer number of enemies was already overwhelming. Setting aside the Gretchins, there were over three thousand greenskin Boyz alone. This was more than the number of greenskins on any point of the front line.
Moreover, reinforcements were steadily streaming in from all directions.
There was no telling how many greenskins would ultimately gather here.
What’s more, the greenskins here weren’t only numerous but also well-armed.
Armed pickup trucks and makeshift metal cannons, which had been seen before, were present. But Martins and his team also noticed two new war machines.
The first was an armed truck.
This “truck” had an armored bed with gun slots extending outward, giving the entire vehicle a rather odd shape. A machine gun sat atop the cab, and a bulldozer blade adorned the front. The truck looked reckless, wild, and downright chaotic.
This chaotic, improvisational style was the essence of greenskin technology. It didn’t matter how absurd it looked; as long as the greenskins thought it made sense, it functioned—and functioned quite well.
The second machine, though, gave everyone a heavy sense of foreboding: it was…a “power armor” or a “war
machine”?
Whatever it was, similar machines had been spotted in many greenskin clans. Humans referred to it as a “Killing Tank.”
A Gretchin or a crippled Ork would be shoved into a metal “can,” and due to the greenskins’ dreadful engineering, it wasn’t merely wearable but permanently integrated.
Mechanical arms extended from both sides of the metal body, each arm equipped with close-combat or ranged weapons. Large-caliber machine guns were also mounted on either side of the chassis.
This “Killing Tank” had appeared on countless greenskin-plagued battlefields. Although not the greenskins’ main armored unit—larger machines existed—these three-meter-tall monstrosities could maneuver across rugged terrain that stymied most human vehicles. Their armor and firepower struck terror into infantry.
Even Space Marines couldn’t ignore such foes. A few rounds from the machine guns on either side of a Killing Tank could breach power armor, and its handheld, double-barreled, self-loading rocket launcher had substantial firepower. Being struck by that massive axe could be fatal.
Of course, in one-on-one confrontations, the Space Marines usually came out on top. Each of the five veterans here had destroyed at least five Killing Tanks.
However, that was over their careers, not a single engagement. Being surrounded by even two or three at once would push them to their limits.
In the greenskin army assembling before them, they counted at least ten Killing Tanks.
With more greenskins joining, there might be even more to come.
With armed trucks comparable to Walker V armored cars, budget power armor in the form of Killing Tanks, and over three thousand greenskin Boyz—including powerful leaders and elite “Hard Boyz” stronger than the average Boyz…
Such a force charging any section of the front line would have devastating results.
Unprepared humans would undoubtedly be torn apart.
Fortunately, they had discovered it.
Now that they had the intel, they could take action.
They did not alert the enemy, instead marking the coordinates and leaving quietly, then relaying the intelligence to the Governor.
They didn’t carry communication equipment themselves, nor did they need to. The Space Marines’ power armor was equipped with communication modules linked to the frontline command’s radio network. The radio towers set up at the frontline headquarters ensured secure communications, with little risk of interception by the greenskins.
What the Governor decided to do with the information wasn’t their concern for now.
Their subsequent orders were to continue probing, to search for the greenskins’ main base, their foundries, and their “farms” and hatcheries.
While this had previously seemed challenging, it now seemed much simpler.
Leaving two Space Marines and a few Storm Squad soldiers to monitor the greenskin staging area, the rest traced the incoming greenskin forces back to their source.