Chapter 230: Rangda, How Does It Feel to Be Swallowed Up?!
The first wave? Bombardment. They are blowing those bastards up.
With an entire forge world gradually resuming production behind him, Hades felt that the Death Guard had one thing in abundance right now—which is ammunition. And that's not even counting the fiery enthusiasm of the Tech-Priests currently in overdrive.
Hades thought that if he didn't use all this ammo, he'd be letting down the Tech-Priests and their maniacal passion.
Naturally, the welcoming party for the Rangda's fleet came in the form of torpedoes—tens of thousands of them. There's no need for subtlety. This greeting was going to be loud and festive.
The torpedo arrays painted beautiful trails across the void. Sound could not travel in space, but if it could, the entire region would have echoed with deafening roars—the furious howls of mankind facing xenos.
Hades silently observed the torpedoes and the enemy fleet's reactions. A red glow shimmered in his left eye. The sight of Perturabo once leading the Iron Warriors' fleet seemed to overlay reality for a moment.
As expected, the first wave of enemy ships didn't resist at all.
Of course not—they were decoys, meant to draw fire and cover the arrival of the main fleet.
Just like the Death Guard had once done.
Hades sneered coldly as he watched the fleeing escort vessels burst one after another into bright blossoms outside the viewport.
The designs of those ships were a chaotic mess—mismatched models, bizarre constructions. Hades even recognized some Navis Imperialis craft among them. No doubt, they were from other species subjugated by Rangda.
At the same time, the enemy's main fleet finally began to reveal itself, apparently thinking the opening salvo had ended and their sacrificial pawns had done their job shielding them.
Hades gave a kindly smile and issued the next command—
The second wave? Still bombardment. Blow the bastard up—again.
To repeat: the Death Guard had a lot of ammunition. A. Lot.
Hades sincerely hoped this "a lot" would leave a deep impression in Rangda's mind.
From the space stations deployed in the asteroid belt near the Mandeville Point, the second wave of torpedoes was launched. It matched—or even surpassed—the first in sheer volume, screaming skyward toward the alien fleet.
The sight of these rising torpedoes clearly caught the enemy off guard. Interceptors and small ships were hastily deployed to take down the Death Guard's torpedo formation.
Hades counted the seconds in his mind. Rangda's response was slow. Compared to fast-reacting legions like the Iron Warriors, Rangda's fleet was… not great.
He wasn't sure if this was their normal reaction speed or if they were just panicking after seeing the Death Guard's "gift package."
But either way, he would use this data in future command decisions.
Brilliant explosions bloomed across the void, mixed with the rippling green waves of warp drives in motion. It was dazzling—a kaleidoscope of destruction. Lady Death had formally taken the stage. Unlike her usual bloodstained rags, today she was dressed in splendor—glittering confetti hanging from her skirt. Each flash marked a ship's demise.
Most of the torpedoes were intercepted, but some still made it to their targets faithfully. Explosions tore open hulls, their fragments revealing shimmering distortions in space—air violently venting from the ruptured interiors.
Ship debris floated silently, slowly, but Hades knew those fragments were actually moving at extreme speeds—more than enough to further disrupt the enemy formation.
Tiny gray specks clung to shattered construction materials, flung into the void alongside the outgassing.
Nothing special. Just lives.
And life? Life was the cheapest thing of all.
Hades maintained a stranglehold on the battlefield tempo, directing nearby orbital defense stations to join the suicidal assault. Their self-destructive charges would further rupture Rangda's fleet formation. The initiative had to remain in Death Guard hands.
Following the path carved by the torpedoes, these defense stations—previously damaged in the Mekanic campaign and later patched together by the Death Guard—charged in.
Most of their operations were maintained by servitors, but each still had necessary crew to provide command, maximizing the destructive potential of the suicide strike.
Only living beings understand how to wreak the most havoc before death. Only the dying can unleash the deepest fury.
Those space stations, with no hesitation and no turning back, charged into Rangda's fleet. Most were stopped at the outer edge of the enemy formation—but a few broke through. Unsteady, yet unwavering, they crashed toward high-priority targets.
Hades watched in silence as the stations penetrated Rangda's ranks. Their detonations bloomed far more brilliantly than the torpedoes—
Those space stations had been packed to the brim with explosives long ago.
Hades blinked, his mind shifting back to analyzing the changes in Rangda's fleet. He no longer cared about the few surviving stations that hadn't yet exploded. A couple of stragglers wouldn't change the outcome—especially in a game played across the galactic board.
As for mourning the dead? That's for after the war.
In the thick of battle, any sentimentality or grief only served to dig your own grave. There was no time for mourning—no strength to spare for reflection.
Rangda, in its hasty maneuvering to open a path through the chaos, had clearly taken the blow head-on. Hades could now confirm that the enemy's rhythm had collapsed. The Death Guard had successfully split what was once a unified enemy fleet into two.
The spearhead units seemed hesitant—unsure whether to turn back and regroup. But if they paused now, the entire offensive would collapse. A failed assault meant banishment from the battlefield.
So they couldn't stop.
And if they didn't stop...
Hades watched the gash torn through Rangda's formation with satisfaction. The fleet's rear was now dragging like a wounded limb, leaving a gaping wound. The Death Guard's scythe could now easily hook into that rupture—and rip out their guts.
If you wanted to step into Death Guard territory, you had to pay in blood.
With the final explosion of the last space station, the curtain fell on the second act. The opening fanfare of the third began with the roar of the Death Guard's engines.
Even with all their ample ammunition, the Death Guard didn't have enough ships to hold a full battle line. If the enemy realized this and attempted to stretch the front, the Death Guard would be dragged into a long, grinding attrition war.
So Hades and the Death Guard would act as shepherds—herding Rangda's ships, never giving them the chance to scatter.
A large portion of the xenos fleet would be driven toward the third mining moon, where planetary defenses would coordinate with the fleet to exterminate them. Another segment would be pushed into the asteroid belt and eliminated more slowly.
Even with a massive stockpile of munitions, a full-scale suppression across the entire field was unsustainable. Ships had to be dispatched to lure and direct the Rangda.
The Death Guard and the Rangda—forced into a close-quarters waltz. They would fight face-to-face. Now came the test of engine power and captain reflexes.
Boardings and counter-boardings would be inevitable. But as long as these actions aligned with the grand strategy, Hades was content to let his warriors make their own calls.
Just as Mortarion trusted Hades, Hades too placed his faith in the Death Guard and their crew. These ships, bearing grim and death-laden names, would be his finest blades.
Fourth Horseman. Reaper's Scythe. Depression.
They raised their scythes with mournful grace—death was their companion, and the Lord of the Underworld had blessed them.
May you all have great fortune in battle.
Hades silently counted the beats of war. It's time.
He looked up. News came in—the first boarding action had succeeded.
He turned his head. Outside the observation window, the starscape remained unchanged.
And then, like growing stalks of grain, reports poured in—enemy ships being boarded, or destroyed outright.
Hades smiled in satisfaction.
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