"Requesting support! Where are the artillery shells and the Vikings?!"
Countless Orcs were now less than a hundred meters away from the position of the Aeterna 5th "Flame of Freedom" Regiment. Every firearm in the sector roared to life. The thunder of explosive rounds, automatic fire, and searing bursts of flame echoed across the battlefield. The ground shook with the force of liquid fire and detonations.
"ROAAAAAR! WAAAAAARGH!!"
A massive Orc, wielding a jagged cleaver, charged straight at the regiment's frontline. He was met head-on by a gleaming bayonet, and his head was split in two by a spinning chainsword.
Despite the overwhelming firepower against them, the Orcs kept advancing with wild frenzy.
"Lok'tar Ogar!!" they cried as they fired their crude weapons forward, not caring about accuracy. They used wreckage from downed starships as makeshift shields, trying to block the relentless onslaught—even though such debris couldn't stop the piercing beams of the Aeterna Regiment's laser rifles and Stormtrooper fire.
Viking air units, running low on ammunition, began to return to carriers for rearming. Meanwhile, medtechs rushed across the lines, treating the wounded amidst the chaos.
"The eastern front has been breached!"
A runner dashed through the firestorm to reach the political commissar's command post. Without hesitation, the commissar grabbed his blessed imperial blade and sprinted toward the collapsing sector.
"Where are the tanks?! Where's our backup?!"
James shouted into his comms as he kept firing at the oncoming Orcs.
Chris Redfield: "We're still five klicks away from your position! We're surrounded out here!"
Carlos Oliveira: "Same here! We're under siege—we can't break through!"
Mark: "We're pinned down too—no way out!"
General Jim Raynor: "All troops, hold your positions—I repeat, hold your positions! Remember, soldiers: some things are damn well worth fighting for!"
Hearing this, James clenched his jaw, despair sinking in as he stared at the storm of Orcs pouring down from the sky.
"Everyone! Today, we fight with mercy in our hearts and steel in our hands! Face the enemy with bravery—for the Emperor!"
With those words, the political commissar activated his power sword and charged toward the breach, ready to meet the enemy head-on.
"Ugh!!"
A glowing, energized sword sliced sharply through an orc that had broken through the defense barricade, splitting the creature in two in the blink of an eye. Thick green blood splattered across the ground, which had long since lost its original color, staining the battlefield with brutal proof of the ongoing war.
"For the Emperor! For the ruler of mankind!"
The political commissar, eyes blazing with fury and madness, raised his electric sword high. He swung it wildly, cutting down the horrific orcs one after another with relentless rage and unyielding spirit. The monstrous bodies fell like wheat before the scythe, thrown back by overwhelming power and endless determination.
"Don't ever dream of returning alive from here, alien scum!!"
With his right hand gripping the sword tightly and his left hand waving the legion's flag, the commissar stood like a beacon of hope amid the darkness. No one knew how many orcs he had personally slain—corpses piled up around him, forming a living mass grave.
"May you all return to the Golden Throne! Back into the embrace of the Emperor!"
Suddenly, a veteran, his body battered and soaked in blood, leapt from behind the rubble. Charging at the orc that had breached the broken barricade, he drove his bayonet straight into the enemy's brain.
"For the Emperor!!"
With a final roar, the veteran bit off the orc's ear even as a spear pierced his side. In his dying breath, he plunged his chain sword deep into his foe's chest.
The defensive line began to collapse. Orcs surged in overwhelming numbers, like an endless hellish tide crashing into the Aeterna 5th "Flame of Freedom" Regiment.
"THE EMPEROR GREETS YOU, ALIEN BASTARDS!!"
A soldier who had lost both legs clung desperately to an orc and pulled the pin from a grenade at his waist.
Explosion!!
A thunderous blast shook the front lines. More than a dozen orcs were blasted away, along with fragments of the self-sacrificing soldier's body.
"WAAAAAARGHH!!!"
Another wave of orcs came, even fiercer and more frenzied than before. But the human soldiers did not retreat. They met the charge with bayonets, chain swords, and bare hands. The battle turned into a slaughterhouse.
The Mobile Suit Zaku II that the orcs had captured was destroyed, and the orcs pounded its wreckage in unison. The Thor unit—a towering metal giant—was similarly brought down and brutally dismantled.
The Firebat squad burned through the orcs with disciplined, coordinated teamwork, but their numbers were too few to stem the tide. Then came the brave Terran Marines—equally tough as the Astra Militarum troops. When their ammo ran out, they switched to bayonets without hesitation. This was nothing new; everyone knew they had once killed hundreds of zerg with knives when out of bullets.
The Reapers were falling one by one.
Their bodies torn apart, armor shattered, blood mixing with the green ichor of the orcs. Yet even in their final moments, they kept pulling the trigger, determined to take down as many enemies as possible before drawing their last breath.
At the center of the formation, the Marauders held their ground, forming a defensive perimeter around the Medtechs.
Their ammunition was nearly gone, but they stood like living walls, shielding the medics who desperately worked to save the wounded. Any orc that came close was met with bursts of heavy fire or explosive rounds from shoulder-mounted launchers.
The Siege Tanks and artillery had already been destroyed.
Orcs had broken through and reduced the heavy weapons to smoldering wreckage.
The Hellions were overwhelmed and crushed.
Dozens of fearless orcs threw themselves at the fast attack vehicles, smashing them under sheer weight and fury, reducing them to burning husks.
The Cyclones had long since run out of ammunition.
Abandoned and broken, they now lay in ruins on the battlefield.
Even so, the Hellbats and Firebats fought side by side.
They unleashed coordinated waves of flame, incinerating the orcs in a storm of fire and smoke. Screams of agony filled the air, but the enemy numbers were simply too great.
The casualty ratio had reached 1 to 6.
Humanity had erupted in an unprecedented burst of raw combat power. In the face of annihilation, desperation turned into madness... and madness became unmatched bravery.
Many soldiers, refusing to be trampled or torn apart, dragged the orcs into death with them.
Grenades were detonated in final embraces.
Those with severed legs crawled forward, clutching explosive charges.
Those missing arms bit down on knife handles and stabbed into enemy throats.
Some, wielding chainswords with a single remaining hand, charged straight into the horde without hesitation.