Commander-in-Chief Wendell Gage's order was like pouring a basin of water into boiling oil, instantly igniting the fleet's long-suppressed fury and killing intent.
The euphoria brought by discovering the enemy's fatal weakness quickly transformed into a bloodthirsty craving. If the previous long-range exchanges still carried a hint of 'civilized' chessboard strategizing, then at this moment, the Imperium of Man completely tore off its disguise, revealing the primal predator fangs hidden beneath its steel and decorum.
The fleet's engines roared, pushing power to their limits. Massive warships, no longer concerned with formation, lunged at the few panicked T'au Empire warships like a pack of deep-sea sharks scenting blood.
Leading the charge were three of the most agile and swift Sword-class frigates. They were like three sharp scalpels, cutting into the T'au Empire fleet's already scattered formation from tricky angles, bringing the close-quarters death vortex directly into the enemy's heartland.
"For the Emperor! Purge these xenos!"
Upon entering the absolute range of their broadside cannons, the Imperial warships' flanks, covered by countless armor plates, opened their gunports. These weapon arrays, designed for close-range destruction, simultaneously spewed flames. The thunderous roar of macro cannons and the shriek of lances intertwined into a symphony of steel and destruction, transforming all anger and disdain for the xenos into a storm of steel, mercilessly unleashed upon the smooth and fragile flanks of the T'au Empire warships.
One starship didn't even have time to react; its broadside armor was instantly vaporized in the rain of fire, and a torrent of energy pierced through its hull, detonating its internal reactor. A silent, brilliant plasma fireball erupted in the cosmos.
Even more, the captain of a Sword-class frigate, after exhausting all his ammunition, chose the most primitive and barbaric method of combat. He piloted his warship, aiming its massive ramming spear—used for breaching and boarding—at another fleeing T'au warship, overloading its engines, and smashing into it!
The sturdy adamantium ram easily tore through the opponent's fragile hull, like a hot knife through butter. The two warships, in a violent impact, 'embraced' each other, and amidst the screeching of twisted metal and continuous explosions, ultimately became a burning wreck.
This utterly unreasonable, primitive, and violent fighting style completely shattered the T'au Empire fleet's psychological defenses. Their tactical manuals had never accounted for such 'madmen.'
"Retreat! All units, retreat immediately!"
The T'au Empire commander finally issued the order to flee. However, during the brief skirmish, this commander, who still retained a last shred of sanity, had despairingly realized a fact—at standard cruising speed, the Imperium of Man's ships were actually faster than theirs!
To create an opportunity for the main ships to escape, he made a cold and cruel decision.
"All frigates, turn immediately! Block the enemy at all costs!"
The order was given, and the two remaining small frigates, without hesitation, resolutely turned their bows, facing the unstoppable torrent of steel. They were like two brave mantises attempting to block a speeding chariot with their fragile arms.
The outcome was without suspense.
Their sacrifice only bought precious dozens of seconds for the flagship and another cruiser.
The Imperium of Man, of course, was not satisfied with this negligible result.
And on the Helldivers' bridge, the players had fallen into a frenzy.
"Quack! Well fought! That's how you fight!"
"Combat! Awesome!"
They relentlessly pursued the two fleeing wake trails, the entire fleet immediately entering a state of pursuit without any rest.
As the fleet entered an unfamiliar star system, a breathtaking sight unfolded before them.
A colossal, vibrant planet hung silently within this star system. It boasted azure oceans, verdant continents, and white clouds; from any angle, it was a perfect habitable world.
"Large-scale life signals detected… Preliminary estimate, tens of millions of xenos exist on this planet!"
Tens of millions of xenos!
This was a chilling number, but the subsequent report on defensive capabilities made everyone's breathing quicken.
This large T'au Empire residential planet's only orbital defense forces consisted of:
A lone orbital defense station;
Several small frigates conducting routine patrols in planetary orbit;
And… the two ships they had just routed, now returning to their home port with full bodies of wounds.
Opportunity hung before them like ripe fruit, requiring no hesitation.
The strike cruiser that had just shined in close-quarters combat once again detached from the main fleet formation. Its battle-scarred bow pointed at the lone defense station in planetary orbit, and the glow of its engines reignited, charging like an iron behemoth locking onto its prey.
The T'au's resistance, as fragile as window paper, didn't even cause a ripple.
The laser turrets on the orbital defense station fired futilely, their slender blue beams striking the enemy's void shields, creating ripples even weaker than those in the previous fleet battle. And the fate of the few small frigates attempting to intercept was even more tragic. The strike cruiser didn't even use its main guns; a mere roar from its broadside point-defense batteries shattered them into several burning fragments of metal, like glass ornaments smashed by a hammer.
After completely silencing the orbital defense station's external firepower, the strike cruiser's launch bay doors opened in succession on both sides of its hull. Dozens of boarding torpedoes, trailing long plumes of flame, accurately struck the defense station's weak points, creating forcefully breached openings to pave the way for subsequent forces.
Immediately after, several Thunderhawk gunships roared out, ignoring the sporadic resistance fire within the defense station, forcibly landing in various critical compartments and passages.
The hatch doors opened, and space marines in heavy power armor stepped with heavy strides onto xeno territory.
"Flesh is weak!"
In the narrow, futuristic white corridors, a medieval-style bloody slaughter was unfolding. Power axes cleaved through alloy bulkheads, and chainswords shredded xenos attempting to resist, along with their battlesuits. Blue blood stained this space that should have been pristine.
The space marines of the Iron Hands, like the most efficient harvesting machines, systematically cleared every compartment, every corner, in tactical squads.
Just one hour later, the fleet received a report from the landing forces.
"Orbital station purged. xeno resistance purified. We shall control this location, establishing the first bridgehead for the Emperor's servants to descend upon this world."
The cold iron fortress, now stained with xeno blood, was rapidly being transformed into the Empire's first staging point for divine retribution. Tech-priests and servitors began to take over and modify the station's systems, as massive transport ships slowly approached. More soldiers and war machines were making their final preparations to set foot on the planet's surface.
Next, it was the ground forces' turn.