Starting from the Planetary Governor - Chapter 852

Chapter 846, No Difference

Seeing the brotherly Chapter now strong and full of splendor, Bachelor naturally felt envy and longing.

But even with his old friend’s encouraging words still ringing in his ears, he still had doubts.

Accepting Alliance aid would surely rapidly strengthen the Chapter. But… the men were Alliance, the equipment was Alliance-provided, so would the Chapter still be the same?

Bachelor wanted to ask Owe this question, but after much hesitation, he remained silent.

Judging from Owe’s expression, he seemed quite satisfied with the Chapter’s current situation. Asking him wouldn’t likely yield the answer he sought.

But what answer did he want?

He himself couldn’t quite articulate it.

But soon, he had no time to dwell on it—the flames of war, already raging, burned even more fiercely.

The mission assigned by High Command was still quite stressful. They had to capture the planet, and within a timeframe. With the support provided to the Iron-Fisted Ambassador, there was no room for delay.

However, after the Iron Fist’s arrival, command naturally shifted to them.

This was quite natural.

The Iron Fist had more men and brought with them a significant number of support troops. Orders from High Command clarified that the Steel Butchers’ next move was to cooperate with the Iron Fist and engage in coordinated combat.

Butcher had no objections.

On the contrary, he had the opportunity to observe, from a bystander’s perspective, the current state of his brother Chapter, whom he hadn’t seen for decades.

The battlefield situation changed dramatically after the Iron Fist, accompanied by several army groups, arrived on the surface.

Fronts that had been completely blocked and on the verge of shifting to a strategic defensive position were suddenly able to advance vigorously.

The Iron Fist was a Chapter exceptionally adept at frontal assaults.

Soldiers in Terminator armor led the vanguard, relying on their sturdy armor and the Terminator’s miniaturized energy shields. Other Space Marines in tactical armor accompanied them, providing a more mobile force.

Were they infantry? Of course they were. But in reality, the armored divisions supporting their operations were subordinate. The tanks, armored vehicles, and even Titan units served more as human shields and accompanying firepower.

Owe himself was a master at commanding the torrent of steel.

The mighty ambassadors, supported by the powerful armored units, were like the sharpest spears, piercing the Greenskin lines wherever they struck.

Often, Owe’s chosen breakthrough points were precisely where the enemy had the most troops and held the strongest defenses.

Against such foes, Owe’s strategy was particularly effective. Once those seemingly formidable obstacles were truly shattered, the Greenskins in an area would feel as if their backbone had been broken, falling into panic and their morale plummeting.

Even putting morale aside, the Greenskins’ strongest fortresses and defensive positions were naturally located in the most strategically important locations. Once these locations were directly breached, the adjacent lines would naturally be unable to offer any better defenses and would be immediately broken.

On the battlefield of Sywind, the human army’s primary mission is to eliminate the planet’s surface orbital defenses. Once the powerful Ork anti-orbital cannons are destroyed, the human fleets will be freed up to launch a more ferocious attack on the Ork fleets entrenched around the planet.

The naval battle for the planet’s orbit will further impact the ground battle. Even after clearing an area, the navy will have the opportunity to assist with massive bombing strikes on the surface, assisting ground forces in rapidly destroying the vast Greenskin plantations.

The most optimal strategy for attacking a planet is, of course, to first completely win the space naval battle and control the planet’s orbital system, then proceed to eliminate surface resistance capabilities, especially anti-orbital capabilities. Ultimately, whether to occupy the planet or issue an extermination order is entirely up to the individual.

But can everything go smoothly and according to optimal procedures?

Strategically, the capture of Sywind is time-bound. Where is the time to follow a standard, slow approach?

This is why the Cyborg Butcher, and subsequently the Iron Fist Ambassador, led massive ground forces to engage in the battle, and why they fought so fiercely.

Furthermore, the war was now progressing as expected.

Under the fierce assault led by the Iron Fist Ambassador, key Ork defense nodes were captured one by one. As the defenses collapsed, the ground-based anti-orbital system gradually disintegrated. Without ground-based firepower, the Greenskin fleet in space, outnumbered and outnumbered, was effectively suppressed by the Human fleet. This further boosted the Human fleet’s support for the ground battlefield while simultaneously reducing the Greenskin navy’s orbital threat to the Humans. This weakening and strengthening helped the Human forces’ ground offensive become more effective.

A virtuous cycle was achieved, and victory was in sight.

However, the Greenskins would not concede defeat so easily. Even when the situation became dire, they launched a final, all-out counterattack.

The Greenskin Orks’ supreme commander on the planet Syrwind, an Overseer, assembled the strongest force at his disposal. Seizing upon the human forces’ routine assault on an anti-orbital position, he launched a fierce flank counterattack.

They succeeded briefly, preventing the loss of the position. However, a company of Ironclad Ambassadors, defending the position, coordinated with the Alliance Army and held their ground.

The main human force quickly converged, and while the friendly forces were holding the Ork Overseer’s main force, they launched a devastating assault.

…

Iron-gray armor raced across the scorched earth, the roar of bolters jarring Bachel’s ears. He watched with his own eyes as the Ironclad Ambassadors formed a battle formation and steadily advanced. Some wielded massive shields coated in ceramite, shielding them from incoming fire and serving as mobile cover. They also wielded heavy bolters, resting in a small opening in the upper right corner of their shields, firing forward.

Alliance Army soldiers accompanied the Space Marines in the vanguard, assisting them in the battle against the Greenskins.

Those Greenskin Orcs were completely outmatched in the firepower confrontation. Even their Berserkers, howling and ready to charge into a brutal melee with the humans, found it difficult to even approach. The Greenskins

‘ heavily armored units were also blocked by intense fire.

The Greenskins’ Gogor war beasts, heavy trucks, and even the King Kong Colossi were unable to significantly impact the battle.

As soon as these units appeared on the battlefield, they became the highest priority targets.

The Alliance Army’s armored and artillery units, guided by the frontline infantry, were the first wave of firepower to deliver the heavy blows. However, the Army’s artillery and heavy vehicles alone were not enough to quickly and immediately eliminate these high-threat Greenskin units.

The Iron Fist’s Space Marines were responsible for the second wave of precision strikes.

The Terminators behind the Heavy Shieldmen were either armed with missile pods or heavy artillery units equipped with melta cannons. They were often accompanied by supply trucks from the Mortal Auxiliary Corps. The Chapter’s specialized combat servants quickly assisted the heavy artillery units, replacing expended missiles and melta energy tanks with new ones.

A single melta cannon blasted the engine of a green truck, sending a shower of metal fragments raining down upon the Ork horde.

More importantly, dozens of kilometers away, the Iron Fist’s artillery, manning specialized precision artillery capable of linking to power armor, provided long-range support. Their artillery was far superior to that of the Alliance Army’s artillery, especially in their coordinated and interconnected synergy with their fellow battle-brothers on the front lines. They were truly one and the same.

Batchelor observed this with a sense of ecstasy.

This was the Iron Fist’s style, a familiar one to him.

The iron-clad charge was merely a facade. Beneath this facade, these brother chapters possessed a mastery of artillery, deploying firepower and coordinating it with infantry.

However, such scenes were rarely seen in the Iron Fist Ambassadors’ past—they were skilled, but not often employed. Ultimately, this was because, after the chapter’s decline, the Iron Fist Ambassadors lacked the manpower to execute the Iron Flood advance, nor could they command sufficient firepower.

This tactic was ideal for crushing enemy defenses head-on, requiring a formidable force and firepower, then destroying the enemy with an unwavering and unadulterated force, devoid of any cunning or deception. However, the realities of the Iron Fist Ambassadors’ later years prohibited their use of such tactics. Otherwise, even if they won, they would continue to tackling tough challenges, ultimately sacrificing their already limited resources.

But with the Alliance’s support, there were no more worries. The Iron Fist Ambassadors, a Chapter exceptionally skilled in frontal assaults and inheriting the fine bloodline of the Punishers, could finally shine once again.

On the planet of Syrwind, Batchel had witnessed this scene time and again. With their full force, a thousand warriors, and all the necessary heavy equipment, the Iron Fist Ambassadors were the undisputed main force. Meanwhile, the Steel

Butchers, who had often played the leading role in previous battles between the two Chapters, were now relegated to supporting roles.

Batchel’s eyes welled with tears. On the one hand, he was happy and moved for his brother Chapter, finally being able to see them in their prime again, and his previous doubts had faded. On the other hand, he felt a sense of embarrassment at the fact that his own Chapter could only deploy a maximum of two hundred men at a time, leading to a reversal of relations between the two sides.

However, the Steel Butchers also had their own value.

Although they shared the same lineage, the Steel Butchers inherited a different aspect of the Punisher bloodline. They shared a steely resolve, yet were even more brutal and ferocious. In contrast to the Iron Fist Ambassadors, who excelled at combining a wall-like advance with powerful artillery fire, the Steel Butchers were more like a heavy, daring, and brutal decimation axe.

When the two chapters worked together, their respective strengths were magnified!

The Steel Butchers no longer needed to worry about overcharging and what would happen to their rearguards. They trusted their brother chapters to guard the best retreat routes and block the Iron Wall along their bloody path. They also trusted their brother chapters’ precise artillery to promptly land support wherever they needed it.

Meanwhile, the Iron Fist Ambassadors, while advancing steadily, also had the added advantage of a sharp battle axe. When encountering unyielding stone, even the Iron Wall proved too much to crush, the decimation axe delivered a powerful blow.

Inspired by their brother chapters, Batchelor personally led his troops into battle.

His Terminator squads, cutting through the gaps between the advancing Iron Wall formations, penetrated deep into the enemy lines, and pierced through the Greenskin defenses. The chainsaw axes in the hands of the Steel Butcher’s warriors formed a death vortex that strangled the enemy.

During their charge, if there were any remaining enemies, there was no need to worry about them. The Iron-Fisted Ambassadors pushing up from behind would crush them with ease.

Butcher felt that he had not killed so happily in a long time.

He wielded two axes and slashed like a bloody butcher, chopping down orcs one by one.

The unique stench of orcs suddenly became strong.

Butcher chopped off the jumping orc with a backhand, and the fishy green blood splattered on the steel skull emblem on the shoulder of the power armor.

He observed for a moment and looked towards the source of the smell.

As if sensing the gaze of the chapter leader, the enemy who had been hiding no longer hid.

“Waaagh!!”

A deafening roar was heard, and the earth surged like waves. An Orc Warlord, draped in super-heavy armor and at least five meters tall, scaled a charging Squig, using it as a mount and leading the charge. His rusted, long battle blade, like a lance, ripped through two charging Lion tanks with a single slash. Three Cyborg Butchers, attempting to join forces to siege him, were quickly dispatched by him using his undercarriage heavy hand cannon.

Even the nearby Iron Fist Ambassador’s heavy bolter support only slightly slowed the three butchers’ demise; it couldn’t change the outcome.

The Orc Warlord’s strength must be respected.

His presence signaled the arrival of the battle’s greatest objective.

Batchelor’s peripheral vision swept across the battlefield. The Cyborg Butchers were still advancing, while the Iron Fist Ambassadors, a little further back, maintained their signature Iron Wall formation.

His old friend, Chapter Master Owe, was among the nearest phalanx.

Owe also noticed his gaze, and a smile echoed through his helmet’s communicator:

“Old rules?”

Butcher suddenly remembered how they had slain a Hive Tyrant together in their youth, and his doubts dissipated like morning mist meeting the sun. He pounded his breastplate hard, and the Steel Butchers immediately split into three sharp blade formations. He led the fastest of these.

The Iron Fist Ambassador’s heavy artillery arrived just in time, repeatedly hitting the Squig monster, sending it roaring with fury. An approaching Iron Wall phalanx suppressed it with heavy bolters and damaged it with melta-cannons, melting through the beast’s right foreleg and forcing it to its knees.

Under cover of artillery, the Steel Butchers advanced fiercely. Axes flew, hacking at the beast while bullets rained down upon the Overseer above.

Butcher himself, accompanied by two of his personal guards, scaled the Squig monster’s back and attacked the Overseer.

In a few moves, he fought with a reckless abandon, his chainsaw axe landing hit after hit, even catching at one point in the enemy’s armor seams, sending sparks stained his eyepiece blood-red.

It was dangerous, but Batchel trusted his old friend.

Sure enough, a familiar war cry suddenly rang out from below—the Iron Wall Phalanx, charging up a little later, had used a human ladder to launch Owe into the air. The Chapter Master’s blade glowed with a menacing green light.

As the Overlord attempted to inflict a crushing blow on Batchel, Owe’s phase blade severed his arm.

“For the Emperor!”

the two Chapter Masters roared in unison, unleashing a combined force!

Their blades simultaneously pierced the Ork Overlord’s massive frame!

Amidst the muffled crack of skulls, Batchel heard the clash of steel and iron, reminiscent of their first joint charge beneath the glacier. As the warlord collapsed, he watched as Owe stamped on the orc warlord’s chest.   The

smile that greeted him was remarkably the same as the one he wore thirty years ago, during the battle to support the Cyborg Butchers’ homeworld.   Victory had undoubtedly arrived.   The Cyborg Butchers, who had survived the smoke of battle, struck their chests with their battle axes, interweaving with the blast of bullets and artillery fired into the air by the Iron Fist Ambassadors, forming an ancient rhythm.   Bachelor bent down to pick up a piece of bloodstained orange-red shoulder armor. The Ring of Punishment insignia on it was oozing blood—very similar to the one that had shattered when Owe had shielded him from a fatal artillery fire forty years prior.   This shoulder armor had belonged to an Iron Fist Ambassador who had died in battle. He didn’t recognize the face; it must be a new recruit.   He wiped the blood off the metal fragments and asked, “Will the new blood the Alliance brings you also inherit this?”   Owe approached and gently untied the fallen soldier’s torn neck armor, revealing a hideous, cracked tattoo beneath—a mark inscribed in the same spot upon each Iron Fist warrior’s promotion to Veteran.   ”Blood can be replicated, but souls cannot. Look at what those boys have engraved on their sacred armor,”   Bachelor said, leaning closer to the fallen recruit’s armor. Inside, he discovered a dense inscription bearing the names of the Iron Fist ambassadors who had fallen in battle throughout their history.

Bachelor knew this was one of the Iron Fist Ambassador’s traditions. Every position in the Chapter was recorded. Every warrior who inherited that position would have the names of all the victims of their predecessor inscribed on their armor. Bachelor

gazed at the battlefield, where the smoke had not yet cleared, and suddenly it struck him that the brand-new, imposing power armor worn by the Alliance recruits, gleaming in the setting sun, was no different from the old, Skyhawk-type armor of the past.

————

5k

still owed 86

(End of this chapter)