By the time the giant star that illuminated Perditia slipped beneath the horizon, the forward reconnaissance post had yet to spot any sign of the enemy. The world sank into complete darkness, lit only by unfamiliar constellations scattered across the night sky.
"How much longer do we have to wait?" Garry yawned as he lay hidden in the shadow of a dune. "Perditia doesn't even have a moon. In another hour, we won't be able to see a thing."
"It doesn't matter if we can't," AlphaBravo replied quietly without lowering his telescope. "We've got an IFF system. Even in total darkness, we'll still know exactly what we're shooting at."
"True..." Garry muttered. "I'm just bored. Since thought acceleration is running at ten-to-one, we've only actually been waiting about fifty minutes. Otherwise, I'd have logged off already. Do you think the command got it wrong? Maybe the orks aren't coming from this direction after all..."
"They're here," AlphaBravo interrupted.
"What? Already?"
Garry instantly tensed. He rolled over and raised his high-powered observation scope.
Through the lens, the once-still yellow horizon began to ripple, as though some colossal beast were swimming beneath the sand.
Moments later, the first ork vehicles emerged.
Crude steam-powered machines belching thick black smoke thundered across the desert. Their designs were a chaotic patchwork of rusted scrap and welded steel, as monsters cobbled together from junkyards. They bounced violently over the dunes, their engines roaring loud enough to shake the air.
"Damn... they really are coming this way." Garry stared in disbelief. "How did Joker and the others predict this?"
"They only exchanged a few professional terms, and I already knew they were operating on a different level from us," AlphaBravo replied calmly. "We're just ordinary players. We follow orders, and everyone lives longer."
He picked up his radio and transmitted the enemy report using a prearranged code.
Meanwhile, Garry eagerly checked his rifle before pulling a grenade from his vest.
"So... do we fight?"
"Easy." AlphaBravo stopped him with a raised hand. "Look at their formation. They're moving too confidently to expect resistance. They won't notice us. First, we count their numbers and identify their composition."
He glanced sideways at Garry.
"And haven't you ever watched a war movie? At the very least, wait until the vanguard has passed before springing the ambush."
The two returned to their scopes.
The ork vanguard rumbled past the dune beneath which they lay hidden.
Only after the lead vehicles disappeared did the main force enter view.
The moment Garry saw them, his eyes widened.
"...Okay... that's one hell of an art-style shift."
The front ranks looked almost industrial. Their motorcycles and armored buggies resembled crude steampunk machines, while the orks themselves wore roughly welded steel plates that had at least been cut and hammered into shape.
But everything behind them looked as though it had traveled backward through history.
Instead of vehicles, countless orks rode enormous Squigs that charged across the sand like prehistoric beasts. Most wore little more than ragged strips of cloth. Their green skin was smeared with colorful war paint in strange tribal patterns that probably looked terrifying by ork standards.
Necklaces of teeth and bone swung from their necks and arms.
Many carried nothing more sophisticated than sharpened stones lashed to wooden handles, using them as axes and hammers.
The entire army seemed to regress from the Steam Age straight back to the Stone Age.
"What the hell is this?" Garry whispered. "Why's there such a huge difference? Do orks have social classes or something?"
"More likely a resource shortage," AlphaBravo answered after finishing his report. "The 'I reckon' power isn't magic. Even orks can't turn sand into steel. Honestly, the fact they built this many steam vehicles in the middle of a desert is already impressive."
He paused before adding in a more serious tone.
"And don't underestimate those primitive-looking ones. An ork doesn't need a steel axe to kill you. Whether it's made of steel or stone, one hit is still instant death."
"...Fair point."
Garry grinned anyway.
"So, when do we start shooting? My rifle's machine spirit is already thirsty. She demands blood."
AlphaBravo didn't even look at him.
"When their vanguard reaches the minefield."
As if on cue, a flash erupted in the darkness.
BOOM!
The explosion rolled across the silent desert like thunder.
AlphaBravo was already raising his rifle.
"Fire!"
The first steam-powered vehicle struck a buried landmine and exploded violently.
The blast hurled the machine onto its side, its wheels spinning uselessly in the air. The driver never even had time to scream before shrapnel tore him apart.
The vehicles behind reacted instinctively.
Brakes screeched.
Metal shrieked.
But packed so tightly together, the convoy had no room to stop.
One vehicle slammed into another.
Then another.
Like falling dominoes, the entire front column collapsed into chaos. Drivers were thrown from their seats. Wrecked machines rolled across the sand. Those further back simply plowed through the growing pile of twisted steel and crushed bodies.
The desert echoed with grinding metal, snapping bones, and furious ork bellows.
And that was only the beginning.
A shrill whistle cut through the night.
Then came the artillery.
Orange fireballs blossomed among the stalled convoy.
Each shell blasted apart vehicles and bodies alike, hurling shattered armor, burning scrap, and severed green limbs high into the air before they rained back onto the battlefield.
Within seconds, the entire ork column descended into pandemonium.
An ork boy scrambled from the wreckage of a burning buggy and sprinted toward an enormous ork towering above the others.
"Boss Redeye!" he shouted. "Da humies got us! Da front's full o' mines! Shells're fallin' from da sky! We're—"
He never finished.
Redeye's boot crashed into his chest, launching him several meters through the air before he landed motionless in the sand.
"Wot're ya squealin' fer?!"
Redeye spat blood-flecked saliva onto the ground and climbed atop the burning wreck.
Standing nearly three and a half meters tall, clad in brutal slabs of steel, he towered over every other ork. Firelight cast his massive silhouette across the battlefield.
He thrust one enormous gauntlet skyward.
Then unleashed a roar powerful enough to shake the night itself.
"WAAAAAAAAAGH!"
The effect was immediate.
The panic vanished from every nearby ork.
Their fear evaporated, replaced by raw, primal bloodlust.
Thousands of crimson eyes turned toward the unseen enemy.
Weapons rose as one.
Their answering cry drowned out even the thunder of the artillery.
"WAAAAAAAAAGH!!!"
Redeye slammed a fist against his armored chest.
"My boyz don't care 'bout mines!"
Another booming laugh.
"My boyz don't care 'bout shellz!"
He pointed toward the Imperial lines.
"CHARGE!"
"KRUMP DEM BACKSTABBIN' HUMIES!"