The Black Templars Astartes, wielding a Power Sword in one hand and a Bolt Pistol in the other, charged swiftly out of their deployment compartment. The squads in two different sectors had, almost simultaneously, executed the same manoeuvre.
The running Astartes were immediately spotted by the Orks. Neither the Red Fog Klan nor the Blood Splatter Klan were meeting Astartes for the first time.
The previous encounter was with a Chaos Warband dedicated to the Chaos God Khorne in the Warp.
That previous meeting had left a deep impression on both Ork Klans.
Those deceptively proportioned bodies contained terrifying strength, and their weapons were virtually irresistible.
However, the numbers they had encountered were too few, only a handful of individuals. Despite the Orks' severely lacking wargear, they had ultimately overwhelmed the enemies through sheer numbers and a chaotic assortment of weapons.
That fight was deeply etched in the minds of the two Ork Warbosses.
It had taken hundreds of Ork Boyz to hack down those few foes.
The only thing that survived was the modified Power Axe now clutched by the Blood Splatter Klan Warboss.
The enemies before them now bore a passing resemblance to the Khornate Chaos Warbands encountered in the Warp, though the colours were different, the general shape was similar.
As the strongest figures in their Klans, the Warbosses were always the most cunning, the most vicious, and the most powerful.
Faced with the enemy assault, neither Warboss moved to engage immediately, instead gesturing for their Shoota Boyz and Tough Boyz to move forward and meet the charge.
The Black Templar warriors deftly dodged the incoming fire, occasionally snapping out counter-shots with their Bolt Pistols that instantly reduced their foes to scattered chunks of gore.
The Orks' firing accuracy was poor, but their volume of fire was overwhelming. In the chaotic fusillade, a few lucky shots inevitably struck the Astartes. However, shielded by thick Ceramite Power Armour, the weapons, which were, at best, repurposed Lasrifles from dead Astra Militarum or crude Sluggas, inflicted no effective damage.
This was largely because the Orks had mounted a surprise attack on the garrison, and none of the heavy weaponry had been brought out yet.
As for the slow-moving rockets, hitting a rapidly accelerating Astartes was problematic for the unintelligent Ork Boyz, who struggled with calculating leading distances.
The only genuinely threatening fire came from the larger calibre guns of the Big Shoota-armed Orks.
Realizing the situation might not be as smooth as anticipated, the Black Templars drew their long blades and switched to close-quarters combat.
The Orks seemed to possess an instinctive coordination; upon seeing the enemy draw swords, they likewise abandoned their ranged weapons, brandishing Choppas and various improvised melee weapons as they charged the Black Templars.
A blood-soaked slaughter soon began.
The Black Templars were founded by the legendary Sigismund, the first High Marshal, and were renowned for their unparalleled swordsmanship, being the most highly regarded and beloved warriors of the Primarch Rogal Dorn.
Throughout ten millennia, though Sigismund had fallen, his spirit was meticulously preserved.
All Black Templars were master swordsmen; their close-quarters skill was arguably superior to that of most other Chapters, with even the newest recruits undergoing rigorous sword training.
Facing the Orks, who fought purely on instinct and physical reaction, the Black Templars warriors cut through them like a relentless wedge.
The Power Swords were swung in fluid, continuous arcs. Every slash and thrust ended the life of an approaching Ork.
The shimmering disintegration field of the blades constantly flashed, often cleaving Orks, and the weapons they carried, entirely in two.
Blood sprayed wildly onto the black Ceramite Power Armour, gathering and running down the pitch-black plates in fine, crimson rivulets.
Watching his subordinates being slaughtered, the Warboss in the rear quickly lost patience.
The Blood Splatter Klan Warboss strode forward, hefting his custom Power Axe.
"Weird warrior! I like yer fightin'! I lets ya 'ave a proper duel wit' me!"
Although he had previously witnessed the Khornate Chaos Space Marines, that did not stop the Warboss from demanding a duel.
He was the most cunning, after all.
If a squad of five Astartes rushed him at once, he might indeed be defeated, but a duel was honourable. By defeating one in a fair fight, the rest could be taken out one by one.
Furthermore, he had observed them carefully and vaguely felt that these warriors were not significantly stronger than the enemies he had encountered in the Warp.
And the Warboss, having survived countless battles, had grown.
He was taller, heavier, and possessed immense strength.
He had no doubt that he would win.
Faced with the Warboss's challenge, the Black Templar warrior's fighting spirit surged.
To find a worthy opponent on the field of battle, engage in an honourable duel, and bring the resulting glory back to the Primarch and the Emperor—this was their creed.
Quickly, the most senior warrior among the Black Templars stepped forward.
The others continued to swing their blades, engaging the lesser Orks in the melee.
The Warboss cared little for the lives of the other Ork Boyz, but he was satisfied that the remaining Astartes were not rushing him.
He never entertained the thought that he might lose to this enemy, who was relatively shorter and skinnier than him.
"I accept your challenge, and I shall deliver your death. I am Hubert Modde of the Black Templars Chapter."
Hearing his opponent's designation, the Warboss grinned and roared loudly.
"Den ya face da boss of da Blood Splatter Klan!"
Hearing their leader's roar, the surrounding Orks, who were still hacking away at the other Astartes, roared back in frenzy.
"WAAAGH! Fightin'! Gud!"
Unfortunately, these ordinary Ork Boyz were powerless against the remaining Black Templars, especially after the Astartes abandoned their ranged weapons for their blades, prompting the Orks to drop their own firearms.
While Orks were physically robust and astonishingly strong, they lacked true close-quarters fighting technique, relying instead on pure combat instinct.
The Blood Splatter Klan Warboss raised his grossly modified Power Axe and brought it down ferociously toward Hubert.
With an agile side-step, the Power Axe, emitting a faint reddish glow and a wicked whistle, whizzed past Hubert's visor.
The modified Power Axe was larger and its destructive power intensified. Hubert knew clearly that if he were struck, even his Ceramite Armour would likely result in critical injury.
Years of rigorous training and the seasoned experience of constant warfare led Hubert to instinctively press his Power Sword against the haft of the Power Axe.
A quick upward strike should be enough to sever the Warboss's arm entirely.
The Warboss clearly detected the move and, relying on his prodigious physical strength, quickly twisted the axe haft sideways.
The Power Axe, having been thoroughly "I finked" by the Mek, was heavily reinforced. Even the Power Sword, shimmering with a disintegration field, failed to cleave the haft completely.
The sword strike was blocked, and Hubert was forced into a momentary grappling match with the Warboss.
But the Warboss's strength was evidently superior to that of an Astartes.
With a violent swing, Hubert was swept horizontally. Had he not reacted instantly, deactivating the sword's field and gripping the blade vertically with both hands to block the impact, that single swipe would have inflicted severe injury.