Half an hour later, Raynor stepped onto the bridge of the Gemstone.
The ruined banquet hall and the breached security doors were undergoing emergency repairs, but Dominic still sat in the central command seat.
His left arm was wrapped in thick bandages, his face still pale, yet his eyes were remarkably bright, burning with a hunger for victory. His military uniform was still stained with dust and blood, indicating he had just come off the battlefield without even a chance to change clothes.
Seeing Raynor, Dominic walked over with quick strides. A rare smile played on his face, clearly highly satisfied with the defensive action at Karl II.
"Governor Carey, beautifully done!"
Dominic reached out with his right hand and clapped Raynor firmly on the shoulder.
"I was worried at first that you wouldn't be able to hold Karl II. I never expected that you would not only hold it, but completely devour these millions of Greenskins. You have truly exceeded my expectations."
These words were already a euphemism; he had originally assumed Raynor had simply fled.
Raynor shook his hand and said with a smile, "It was merely good fortune. If the main Greenskin fleet hadn't suddenly retreated, it wouldn't have been this easy."
At the mention of the Greenskin fleet's retreat, Dominic's eyes grew even more excited.
"Speaking of which, that is exactly why I asked to see you." He walked over to the holographic star map, pointed toward the planet Dorito, and said in an excited tone:
"Governor Carey, now is the absolute best time to press our advantage! Look, only the Gemstone suffered minor damage in this battle; the rest of our fleet is virtually unscathed. As for the Greenskins, Ragnar is dead. They have hastily selected a new Warboss in a short time, meaning their foundation is bound to be unstable."
"Furthermore, our intelligence indicates that the Greenskin fleet is currently in absolute disarray, with many chieftains itching to start internal power struggles. If we lead the fleet on a full-scale offensive now, we can catch them completely off guard and take planet Dorito in one fell swoop! Once we annihilate the main fleet of the Taste-Great Clan, the Greenskin threat to the entire Calixis system will be permanently resolved!"
Dominic grew more and more worked up as he spoke, his eyes gleaming with excitement. It was as if he could already see the Imperial fleet conquering planet Dorito, wiping out every last Greenskin. Not only would this avenge Ralph and all the fallen soldiers, but it would also add a glorious, heavy stroke to his record of military achievements.
Seeing Dominic's eager state, Raynor couldn't help but feel amused yet helpless. Anyone who didn't know better would think Dominic was the Governor of Brevis, acting far more impatient than Raynor himself.
He shook his head gently, the smile on his face slowly fading.
"Lord Dominic, I believe it is still far too early to launch an offensive."
"Why?" Dominic looked up sharply, staring at Raynor, the smile vanishing from his face as well. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! If we miss it and let the Greenskins stabilize, attacking Dorito later will cost us ten or even a hundred times the price! Or does Governor Carey have some other insights?"
Raynor did not answer his question directly. He walked over to the star map and pulled up the surveillance footage of the Greenskin fleet's retreat.
"Before I answer you, let me ask you a question." Raynor pointed to the Greenskin vessels on the screen, which were retreating in a remarkably "uniform and orderly" manner, and looked into Dominic's eyes, saying seriously: "Based on your understanding of the Greenskins, what does their fleet look like when a Warboss falls in battle and a new one takes over?"
Dominic paused, answering instinctively: "They fall into chaos, of course. The chieftains slaughter each other to seize power. If they are lucky, a victor is decided in a few months. If not, the infighting could drag on for years."
This was basic Imperial knowledge for fighting Greenskins. Every commander knew it, let alone a general like him who had personally clashed with them. But the moment those words left his mouth, Dominic seemed to realize something, his confident aura visibly weakening.
"Exactly." Raynor nodded. "Now, look again at the current Greenskin fleet."
He enlarged the surveillance feed. On the screen, hundreds of Greenskin ships were flying toward planet Dorito in an orderly formation. True, there were still ships straying off course, falling behind, or firing at one another. After all, they were Orks; complete order was impossible for them. But this level of minor chaos was clearly within normal parameters.
"Do you think this looks like a Greenskin fleet that has just undergone a violent transfer of power?"
Dominic's brow furrowed. He stared at the Greenskin fleet on the screen, a puzzled expression spreading over his face. It did, indeed, look highly unusual. No matter how powerful a new Warboss was, it was impossible to make every chieftain and boss submit so completely in such a short span of time. It went completely against Ork biology.
"Perhaps... perhaps this new Warboss is exceptionally powerful?" Dominic's voice was no longer as firm as before. "Or maybe a successor was prepared long ago?"
Raynor shook his head.
"Greenskins have never had designated successors. They only recognize fists. Whoever has the hardest fist is the boss. Furthermore, even if this new Warboss were incredibly strong, he couldn't possibly convince every warboss to willingly abandon internal fighting and retreat alongside him."
"Orks live to fight. They were right on the verge of capturing Karl II—why would they give up so easily?" Raynor looked Dominic in the eyes and said seriously: "Therefore, based on my intelligence and understanding of the Greenskins, I have arrived at a conclusion."
"Ragnar... is likely not dead."
"What did you say?!"
Dominic's face instantly went pale. He stood up abruptly, his gaze turning fierce as he stared at Raynor.
"Impossible! That is absolutely impossible!" His voice raised several octaves before he caught himself, lowering it back down to maintain decorum.
"We verified it repeatedly! Ragnar died in the psychic collapse inside the banquet hall. Not a single trace of him was left! His flagship, that ship shaped like a giant pot, was also blown apart by our gunfire. There is physically no way he could have survived!"
Dominic's emotions were running high. He glared at Raynor, his eyes bloodshot.
"Governor Carey, I know you are always cautious, but you cannot make such claims out of thin air! Do you have any idea what those words imply?"
It implied that Ralph's sacrifice, and the sacrifices of every soldier who died to bring Ragnar down, were in vain. That was a reality Dominic absolutely could not accept—never!
His voice echoed through the bridge. The surrounding guards lowered their heads, not daring to speak. They all knew the immense psychological toll Ragnar had inflicted on Dominic, and how deeply Ralph's death had struck him.
Raynor watched the agitated Dominic in silence. He understood Dominic's feelings perfectly. Anyone, after going through such a horrific battle and paying such a devastating price, would refuse to accept that their mortal enemy was still breathing.
Only when Dominic's breathing slowed slightly did Raynor speak, his tone calm yet firm.
"Lord Dominic, I know this is incredibly hard to accept. To tell you the truth, I didn't want to believe it either. But all evidence points to this single outcome. Besides, think carefully about how Ragnar performed during that battle."
Raynor's gaze grew deep, as if looking back at the brutal combat.
"He took the concentrated fire of seven Stormblades, his body on the verge of complete annihilation, yet he could still consume matter through a mouth on his stomach to regenerate. Have you ever witnessed such restorative capabilities in your life?"
Dominic's breath hitched. He recalled that bloody, mangled mass of flesh. He remembered the horror of it devouring soldiers and even tank chassis to regrow its entire body. A chill he desperately wished to deny crept up his spine once more. That unnatural, bizarre power was indeed something he had never before seen.
"Not to mention his flagship, with its absurd ability to swallow a fleet's concentrated barrage whole. None of this can be explained by common sense. Even the daemons of the Warp cannot achieve such things."
Raynor's voice continued to resonate in his ears.
"So... why is it so impossible for him to rise from the dead?"
Dominic was left momentarily speechless by Raynor's blunt analysis, the boiling rage in his chest not yet fully suppressed. He opened his mouth to argue several times, but the words caught in his throat.
Clenching his remaining right fist, the phantom pain from his severed left arm throbbed, acting as a grim reminder of the bloody bridge battle that had nearly wiped them out. He had to admit that Raynor had hit every core suspicion right on the head.
Under the concentrated fire of multiple Stormblade main cannons, Ragnar's flesh had been nearly destroyed, yet he had restored himself to his peak through some unknown means. That Ork vessel shaped like a giant pot had swallowed a fleet-wide salvo powerful enough to boil an ocean. Even more bizarrely, at the exact moment a Warboss's death should have plunged the Greenskins into absolute chaos, their entire fleet had managed an "orderly and systematic" retreat, with virtually no signs of clan infighting or fleet scattering. Strung together, these anomalous details shattered all established conventions of Ork behavior.
Dominic was a scion of House Ventris, holding the rank of Rear Admiral and Tithe Inquisitor. Though young and somewhat impetuous, he had fought in numerous campaigns across the galaxy. He had witnessed firsthand the wild, chaotic brutality of the Orks. He had also heard of instances where, after a powerful Warboss was decapitated, the entire Greenskin coalition descended into a year-long bloody civil war, ultimately fracturing into a dozen warring clans that the Imperial Navy systematically annihilated one by one. Yet the progression of this battle contained far too many anomalies.
Yet deep down, he still refused to accept the conclusion that Ragnar survived. That would mean the sacrifices of Ralph, dozens of Sisters of Silence, and his personal guards had been entirely in vain. It would mean the glory of permanently ending the Greenskin threat had vanished like smoke. But his intellect was already responding to reality. His anger slowly cooled, and his racing thoughts began to rapidly replay every detail of the battle. Every piece of evidence chipped away at his initial judgment.
Seeing Dominic's expression gradually steady, Raynor did not press his advantage. Instead, he softened his tone, speaking with a measured and appropriate level of respect.
"My Lord, I understand how difficult it is to accept that the outcome bought by such immense sacrifice remains uncertain. Were I in your position—watching comrades give everything to bring down a target, only to find that the enemy might still breathe—I, too, would feel rage and resentment. But we are officers of the Imperium. We carry the weight of billions of civilian lives on Brevis. We cannot let emotion dictate our judgment. Let us set aside our feelings for a moment, and consider a more balanced approach."
Raynor's words appealed to both reason and emotion. Hearing this, Dominic took a deep breath, the tension in his shoulders finally melting away. He had never been a pigheaded, dogmatic fool who put appearances above reality. As an Imperial Tithe Inquisitor commanding a fleet, the ability to assess situations and listen to sound advice was a fundamental requirement of his station. This was especially true when dealing with someone like Carey Von—a man whose administrative and tactical genius was top-tier. His insights were never to be dismissed lightly.
He looked up at Raynor, his posture straight and his prior anger completely replaced by a purely analytical focus. "I am all ears, Governor Carey."
Raynor nodded slightly, silently admiring Dominic's capacity for leadership. To hold such a high office yet remain unblinded by arrogance, and to calmly accept counsel despite the shadow of defeat and bruised pride, set him leagues apart from those rigid, aristocratic Imperial officers who only knew how to fight wars on paper.
He stepped unhurriedly toward the holographic star map, tapping his finger to project a three-dimensional layout of Karl II, planet Dorito, their troop deployments, battle damage assessments, and resource reserves. A pale blue light shimmered around his fingertips, painting a vivid picture of the system's strategic layout before the bridge crew.
"There is an old saying in my homeland: 'Haste makes waste,'" Raynor's voice was calm and steady, carrying a natural authority.
"In the current theater, we already hold a massive advantage. Through the ambush on the Gemstone, the interception at Karl II, and the mop-up of the boarding forces, the Greenskins have lost nearly a third of their total combat power. This includes Ragnar's most elite Taste-Great Clan vanguard fleet. Furthermore, the flagship Ragnar used to dominate this sector has been completely obliterated. Without that core vessel to absorb fire and channel bizarre energies, the fighting strength of the Ork fleet has plummeted by at least half.
Even if Ragnar did somehow survive and crawl into hiding, he cannot rally his forces or co-opt a complete Waaagh! field anytime soon, let alone duplicate his previous supernatural battle prowess. The next time we clash head-on with Your Lordship personally directing the Tithe Fleet, victory is guaranteed."
Pausing momentarily, Raynor shifted his focus, tapping the holographic projection of the Gemstone to highlight their own vulnerabilities.
"However, our own losses are equally non-negligible. According to the data I just acquired from the Tech-Priest..." Raynor nodded politely to a Tech-Priest standing near Dominic.
"The Gemstone, as the capital ship and the very core of our fleet's firepower, has been battered severely by the Anna's collision and the subsequent Ork boarding actions. Its bow armor is sixty percent compromised, one of its main lance arrays is completely paralyzed, twelve macro-cannon batteries require barrel replacements, and the plasma core is showing signs of instability.
Furthermore, our ammunition expenditure during this engagement has been staggering. While Your Lordship's logistical network has deep food and supply reserves, the vast majority of our heavy military munitions are still stored aboard transport vessels back at the Brevis orbital shipyards, yet to be routed to Karl II. The fastest transport ship takes three days to make the trip here, meaning a round-trip takes a full week.
Rather than launching a hasty pursuit and risking our fleet deep inside the Dorito system, it would be far wiser to halt here at Karl II and establish a temporary interstellar supply line. Once our ammo, replacement parts, and reinforcements are fully in place, we can mobilize our combined strength to launch a total offensive against Dorito. It will only delay us by a few days, but it guarantees an absolute, flawless victory."
Hearing this rational breakdown, Dominic's brow furrowed slightly. A seed of doubt remained, and he spoke up:
"Governor Carey, you must be well-acquainted with Ork biology. These xenos live purely for war; they grow stronger the more they fight. Their Waaagh! field swells with continuous slaughter. If we halt to resupply and repair, aren't we giving them a golden opportunity to catch their breath and rebuild? If Ragnar is allowed to reorganize his tribes and coalesce an even stronger Waaagh! field, the consequences will be catastrophic."
Raynor immediately nodded in agreement. "Your Lordship is entirely correct. The Orks' capacity for rapid escalation and growth in conflict is unmatched. Halting our advance indeed gives them a window to recover. I do not deny this for a second."
Shifting his tone, he laid bare the fatal flaws of a premature chase:
"But let us look at the alternative. If we launch an immediate offensive, we might ride the wave of our recent victory to quickly clear the remaining Ork ships. But what happens after that? Our ultimate goal is to land on planet Dorito and completely eradicate the Greenskin infestation at its root. Dorito was formerly an agricultural world, its surface covered in vast fungal forests and spore plains—the absolute perfect environment for Ork propagation.
According to the latest census data from Brevis, the Ork population on Dorito exceeds five billion. They are a society of total mobilization; every single one of them is born to fight. From the moment they sprout from the soil, they are natural-born killers. Our current advantage lies entirely in our orbital and fleet-wide fire superiority. When it comes to conventional ground forces, our numbers are a drop in the ocean compared to a tide of five billion Greenskins.
The absolute maximum force we can deploy for a planetary landing is ten million from my Expeditionary Force and ten thousand Astra Militarum. Even if we combine them with Your Lordship's Tithe Fleet Marines, our total ground strength is less than twenty million. Twenty million against five billion is a ground campaign we are mathematically guaranteed to lose."
"If we pursue them now with a damaged fleet and heavily depleted ammunition reserves, we will not be able to sustain orbital fire support once we enter Dorito's orbit. Our landing forces will be swamped and dragged into a grinding war of attrition.
The Orks, feeding off the continuous violence, will accumulate Waaagh! energy and grow progressively stronger. They will evolve thicker armor, design more devastating weapons, and breed larger, more dangerous bosses. With their bizarre, innate technical aptitude, they might even scrap together a brand-new fleet right under our noses.
We would find ourselves stuck in a vice—struggling against a global tide of infantry below while a newly minted Ork fleet squeezes us from above. At that point, completely eradicating them would be out of the question; we would be lucky to retreat with our lives. Sometimes, rushing headlong into battle is the quickest way to walk into a trap. Holding our ground, analyzing our options, and securing our advantages before delivering a single, crushing blow is the true path to a swift and absolute victory."
Raynor's words were sharp and precise, cutting straight to the heart of their tactical reality.