2nd Primarch

When the Primarch emerged from the sea of orc corpses, carrying Bonebreaker like a discarded, broken beast, the orc army's line shattered completely.

The fear that had simmered within countless orcs at the sight of the Primarch became a palpable, crushing force under the influence of the Waaagh! field. Most of the orcs lost even the courage to raise their weapons before him.

The mission to buy time was complete.

A warlord captured by humans is unworthy of being the boss of the orcs unless they possess the strength to escape on their own.

Unless the orcs of the world of Organa quickly produced a new warlord capable of consolidating their fractured horde, they would be unable to rally to the main battlefield anytime soon.

Watching the orcs scatter like a broken tide, the Imperial soldiers still fighting on the battlefield wore expressions of disbelief.

Such a vast, ravenous horde had been defeated, and it seemed almost like a dream.

The Krieg soldiers, efficient and cold as ever, wiped the blood from their bayonets with their sleeves as they moved closer to the Primarch.

They gazed at his tall, bloodied figure in stunned silence. Despite the peril of the mission, casualties were remarkably low—something that defied all expectations.

Though they maintained their habitual indifference outwardly, the surge of glory, redemption, and victory coursed through them like a hidden current.

When the Primarch had first appeared, descending from the skies like a beacon of wrath and hope, he had been a rallying point for their charge. Now, that light burned even brighter in their hearts.

[Ping!]

In an instant, countless soldiers received an invitation through the Heart Network.

Hidden behind their bird-beaked respirators, their faces briefly registered confusion before resolve returned.

Meanwhile, the Ultramarines company led by Captain Gray and the Primarch's personal guard converged on the battlefield's center.

The Ultramarines, though covered in blood, could not hide the joy of hard-won victory. Since pledging allegiance to the Second Primarch, they had been no strangers to triumph.

The Primarch's guard, on the other hand, remained composed. These warriors, who had followed him since the days of Ophelia VII, viewed victory not as a triumph but as an inevitability.

For them, winning was simply the natural order of things.

"Your Majesty," whispered Kane, his voice low in prayer, "thank you for your blessing. Victory has come again, though not by my strength. I am weak and have done little."

Kane's silent gratitude to the God-Emperor swelled within him as they began assembling for their next march.

Once regrouped, Dukel led them back to the fleet and the towering battleship group. Carrying Bonebreaker with a commanding stride, he marched into the intelligence agency.

"Break this alien's will completely," Dukel commanded, pointing at the warlord. "Can you do it?"

"This mission is crucial—not just for me, but for all of humanity. It's time to demonstrate your capabilities."

The intelligence officers and executioners present exchanged uneasy glances.

Finally, one officer stepped forward cautiously. "Your Highness," he began, choosing his words carefully, "our... methods are typically designed for humans. They may not work effectively on a being as resilient and alien as this warlord."

He elaborated, explaining that orcs' biology was vastly different from humans, their dull senses and strange Waaagh! energy field rendering most human-targeted techniques ineffective.

"How inconvenient," Dukel muttered, frowning.

Orc physiology was infuriatingly resistant to psychic intrusion. While the Primarch could use the Heart Network to invade Bonebreaker's mind, sheer psychic force alone wasn't enough to shatter the warlord's will. First, the orc's mental defenses had to be broken.

Dukel's gaze hardened as Bonebreaker laughed derisively.

"Gahaha! You're wasting your time, runt!" the orc sneered. Despite his bravado, fear flickered in his eyes as the Primarch's gaze bore into him. Bonebreaker swallowed hard before snarling, "You'd better kill me, 'cause breakin' the will of a great ork warrior? Bah! Easier to just kill us!"

Dukel narrowed his eyes. Torture wouldn't be easy, but then, a thought struck him.

If the intelligence department couldn't handle this, there was another option—an organization far more experienced in the art of mechanized agony: the Adeptus Mechanicus.

Among their kind, no being was more capable of such grim tasks than Gris, the Great Sage.

Although Gris was currently stationed on Eurystar, distance posed no issue for the Lord of the Heart Network. Without hesitation, Dukel summoned a mechanical servitor and projected Gris's consciousness into the machine.

"Your Highness, you've already captured the Bonebreaker?" Gris's synthetic voice resonated with faint admiration. "Impressive. What do you require?"

"Can you handle this?" Dukel asked plainly.

"I've been preparing contingencies for orks," Gris replied calmly. His servitor's red mechanical eyes glowed as if accessing a database. "I'll do my best."

With that, Gris led Bonebreaker into the interrogation chamber.

The warlord's bravado faltered but didn't break. "Gahaha! You tink yer clever, eh? I'm not scared o' whatever ye've cooked up! Ork warriors don't crack under torture!"

His mocking laughter filled the corridor.

Then came his screams.

What followed were days of anguish-filled howls echoing through the ship. Bonebreaker's cries of defiance gave way to unrelenting screams of torment, a haunting sound that lingered in the minds of all who passed by.

For the intelligence officers, the display was both humbling and horrifying. Perhaps they would need to take lessons from the Mechanicus after all.