Orks believed:
Red ones go faster, Purple grants stealth, Yellow is the craziest, Blue is luckiest.
One glance at that paint job, and an Ork would think: That guy is both fast and insane.
And indeed, in Ork society's "I reckon this must be true" psychic effect, that belief made such paint schemes truly effective.A red-painted vehicle really would go faster!
Eden's goal was psychological warfare.
After all, Orks were a "belief-based," ever-evolving psyker species.
He suspected that was how old Commissar Yarrick overcame the Orks—exploiting their own beliefs.
When the Orks spread rumors of Yarrick's feats, and began fearing him and believing he was truly powerful, he received a boost through their warp-laced faith.
That might be the only way a mere unaugmented human had bested a mighty Ork warboss—even Space Marines would have struggled.
So, who knows? Eden's flashy getup might prove crucial at a key moment.
Fully clad, Eden strode out.
Encased head-to-toe, he looked like a four-meter-tall, terrifying Ork warlord:
The "Ork Version" of the Savior.
He quickly made for the ship's hangar and boarded a lander bound for the surface.
As they plunged into the atmosphere, the rumble of artillery became audible.
The war on Kanda Star had already begun.
A few hours earlier, an Ork horde had assaulted Ore City, nearly breaking through its walls.
Fortunately, A'Rey's forces arrived in time, reinforcing the city.
Now, millions of Storm Army troopers faced off against nearly a million Orks on the plains.
Upon landing, Eden ascended Ore City's hundred-meter walls and used the tower's mechanical scope to observe the battle.
Rumble—!!!
The battlefield was a nightmarish tableau of fire and steel, screams and cannon blasts mingling in a symphony of death.
A tide of green raged forward.
Fearless of death, the Orks charged through gunfire.
Even bullets through their chests or severed limbs couldn't halt them.
Some scarred Ork boys kept charging despite half their brains missing.
"Waaaagh—!"
A vanguard group of Orks strapped with crude explosives launched suicidal attacks on the heavy tanks.
They seemed to relish these missions, racing each other to see who'd blow up first.
For Orks, war was life's greatest joy.
Crash, crash, crash, crash!
Ork boys drove patched-together, smoke-spewing trucks that looked ready to fall apart, rampaging around the battlefield.
They ran over anything in their path, friend or foe alike.
Boss-level Orks in battered metal armor roared as they tore into the lines, chopping left and right.
In the rear, huge makeshift catapults built from logs and construction machinery—painted in gaudy Ork style—hurled boulders at the city walls.
Despite the defenders' anti-aircraft guns and shield arrays, some stones slipped through, hammering the fortifications.
The walls shook violently, fractures forming in places.
"This is insane…"
Eden couldn't help but marvel, even watching it unfold with his own eyes.
Ork "tech" was unbelievably bizarre.
Seriously—catapults that can threaten high-tech fortress walls?
If they built some heavy artillery next, could they bring these walls down in no time?
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—
The Dreamweaver dispatched a thousand Lightning Strike Fighters and Thunder heavy bombers to attack the Orks' rear lines, destroying quite a few catapults.
But the Orks quickly responded with improvised anti-air, hurling giant stones skyward. Some planes were knocked out of the sky.
They also launched an aerial counterattack.
Riding pterosaur-like Karo Beasts fitted with scrap armor, Ork "flyboyz" engaged the Imperial aircraft in dogfights!
Eden stared in astonishment.
"How are those mount-riding Orks, each beast about seven or eight meters, matching a 60-meter bomber?"
"Damn!" he cursed in the next breath—