It was once an Imperial world, officially designated with only a string of numbers and letters. To its native populace, humans who had endured the Long Night and lifted from the darkness through the Great Crusade, they named their home Salynis. It was a label that was yet to enter the archives of the Imperial Administration.

To the orks that now infested the world, its name was irrelevant.

One of the many worlds neighbouring the cordon worlds ringing the Nexus Unity, Salynis had been abandoned by the Imperium, with most of its infrastructure and industry scuttled to deny the orks spilling out of the cordon worlds. Its harvested resources were jammed into freight haulers and mass conveyors and evacuated, along with most of its populace.

Most, but not all.

Not everyone lived within the urban centers, and even within the Imperial-established cities there were thousands who could not reach the nearest starports in time, or find a place in the orbital shuttles.

There were less than a dozen million Salynisians left when the last ships fled the systems, either staring up at the skies in despair, or fleeing to the hinterlands with the slim hope of hiding until the Imperium returned.

Then the orks made planetfall with their ramshackle ships and roks. The fortified towns and villages became natural targets for the battle-hungry orks, who often made it a point to crash their vehicles straight into the sites. Hunting packs of ravenous squigs quickly sniffed out underground hideouts, while squadrons of ork fightas found offshore platforms and arctic complexes. There was no sanctuary in the mountains and deep forests either as the greenskins tore through earth and trees to feed their warmachine.

In the years that followed, barely a million Salynis humans remained, and ironically, it was in the cities where most of them survived.

Despite the spires being toppled by idle strafing runs and whole hab blocks blown up by the orks' recreational infighting, there were enough nooks and crannies in the ruins for humanity to eke out a living. Rockrete debris obscured intact basements and even sublevel complexes, and cratered hab blocks offered sanctuary in their darkest shadows. A few streets were left alone as the invaders found the quiet niches to be too lifeless and boring at first glance to be worth their attention.

In those few months, the survivors quickly learned to adapt to life as prey and sport. Those who had the luxury of rations lived in isolation from the outside world, while those who didn't learned to scavenge and not question the source of their pickings. They learned the patterns of the invaders, to better avoid them, and honed the art of skulking.

Despite their ordeal, the Salynisians still clung tightly onto the ember of hope as they did their survival. Many eyes risked glances up to the stars as they scampered under the cover of night. Vox systems were cherished, as their owners awaited the day the speakers came to life to herald the Imperium's return. Some broke with Imperial edict and began praying for divine intervention.

Their hopes and prayers would eventually be answered, though salvation would come in a different form.

*****

To the orks, Salynis was a convenient staging point, a checkpoint along the path to a greater fight. Battlekroozers, space hulks and roks loitered in the system to resupply and reorganize themselves, mostly by fighting for control of the planet's resources. While boarding actions took place in orbit, crude excavators continued to chew through the earth for ores and minerals, more open land was befouled by roaming squig herds, and the skies turned grey from the belching of the greenskins' industry.

Salynis grew into some prominence among the ork warbands as a key rest stop, and the system became host to thousands of ramshackle vessels and converted asteroids at any one time. Such a congregation would have been a daunting prospect for any foe to strike at, but to certain eyes, the concentration of greenskins served as the perfect testing grounds.

*****

"Successful translation into realspace," an ensign reported. "Deactivating Geller Fields, activating shields… Initiating auger sweeps…"

Kharn took in the orderly buzz of activity as he kept an eye on the bridge's new holoprojector. Like everything else on the Conqueror and virtually all of the World Eaters' equipment, the projector was innovated based off technology Sev had harvested off Terra and Mars. Fragments of information from the Dark Age of Technology and beyond had been decrypted or pieced together by the Nexus' scientists, using the terrifying computation power of its Artificial Intelligences as well as the ancient insights of their Eldar collaborators.

It was the rediscovery of miniaturization that led to the greatest changes. The tactical holoprojector was now barely the size of a stool where before it was a meeting table composed of circuits and projectors. Gone were the jungle of cables that hung like vines that connected the display to the cogitator banks and power substations, both of which had also been compressed down into much less conspicuous sizes.

When Kharn had first stepped onboard the renovated ship, he had found the new expanses disconcerting. It felt like whole rooms had been created due to the shrinkage and removal of extraneous Mechanicum redundancies. Data shrines were removed altogether or replaced with diagnostic screens that were no thicker than a mortal human's finger. The ship's reactors were doubled without requiring any expansion. There were caverns now in the ship as building-sized data stacks were reduced into blocks no bigger than a Rhino transport.

The adoption of simple automation - the barest that Kharn and his brothers' could tolerate for now - also further transformed the Conqueror. Barely ten thousand mortal crew maintained the operations of the great flagship, and even that was considered overstaffing as monotask automata took over most of the menial tasks. It was the only technology which was reliant on Nexus expertise. The robots' logic cores were produced from specially made fabricators that installed Nexus-made safeguards and digitized wards that would regulate their behaviour and shield them from corruption.

Despite their reliable source, Kharn was still cautious of them, recalling the multitude of red optics of the Nexus' Sentinels. And a part of him sometimes wondered if this was where the slippery slope towards ruin began.

Misgivings aside, the improvements to the Conqueror and the rest of the fleet was undeniable. The ships were faster, and the freed up spaces were converted into more armor, more weapon bays, and more ammo vaults. On paper, the adoption of technology from the Dark Ages brought a marked increase to efficiency and effectiveness.

Now all that was needed was to put those numbers to the test.

Slaughtering a whole lot of orks was merely a bonus incentive.

The World Eaters' fleet surged towards Salynis, broadcasting the unstable energy signatures and bellicose roars of the greenskins. Rather annoyingly, that seemed to work as no reaction was detected from the constellation of ork ships around the planet.

"Great, now we'll have to put up with all of this noise," Kharn muttered not too softly, his ears picking up the harsh sounds that leaked from the feedback speakers. Several ensigns nodded in agreement, though the ship's captain grunted.

"Man up," Lotara Sarrin retorted, "this is better than another suicide run. I'm not going to suffer being shoved into a terrestrial city again while waiting for the ship to be repaired."

"I heard you served as a decent governor," Kharn ribbed.

"And I still have that power to order a summary execution," she replied, glaring back at him with some heat.

The captain of the 8th Assault Company, and equerry of the primarch, shrugged. "Such extrajudicial actions would ruin your reputation."

"Either shut up or piss off my bridge, Kharn."

And Kharn shut up, reining in his boredom to focus on the looming fight. Absently, he scratched the back of his scalp, feeling the phantom itch of the Nails as he remembered the old, gnawing ache at the prospect of violence.

"How long until we get within range?" he asked.

Lotara almost sighed. "So long as our cover holds and we keep to the orks' limits, somewhere within four days."

Kharn nodded at the answer, and then turned to leave. "Call me if anything happens."

It took three days before their cover was compromised; a more belligerent warband broke from Salynis and burned through the void to challenge the newcomers to some sort of orkish ritual duel. Or perhaps just a plain and simple skirmish.

Seizing on what element of surprise that remained, the Conqueror and the other battleships at the head of the World Eaters' formation unloaded a volley of torpedoes before their obfuscation was banished by the sensors of the approaching aliens.

The emptiness of space was lit up by a shoal of pinprick lights as the missiles traveled to their targets. The point defenses of the orks ships opened fire, and the shoal burst like wind-banished fog as the machine intelligences guiding each torpedo suddenly jinked and swerved out of the way.

Kharn saw through the holo display as the smart munitions shot away from their initial trajectory and made great arcs that described a constricting ring around the confused ork vessels. A majority of the torpedoes found their mark minutes later, and the sensor arrays picked up the energy spikes as the projectiles buried themselves deep in their prey's hulls, and their vortex warheads detonated to tear holes in reality.

As the ork vessels reeled from the damage, the World Eaters' ships dove into the fray, and Kharn stood impassively as the Conqueror's bridge was washed white by the actinic energies of its lance batteries. Completely replacing macrocannons for the sake of sleeker logistics, the energy weapons fed on tertiary reactors and capacitors that removed the need for shell storage, while automated regulators and menial automata ensured the weapons operated at optimal levels.

The orks around Salynis were clearly roused by the sudden burst of activity, as increased energy readings were reported.

"We're outnumbered at least four to one," Lotara dryly commented as she stared at the tactical holomap. Neither she nor the bridge crew tensed as the Conqueror juddered as its prow tore through the burning remains of an ork kroozer.

"Are you complaining?" Kharn asked, slowly raising an eyebrow.

The captain gave a cruel smirk in return. "Only that we won't exactly be honing our skills here. Compared to outrunning three legions, running around with orks feels far less exciting."

"Preliminary auspex scans seem to agree with your assessment, captain," the soft voice of Lehralla joined in. "Ork energy emissions thus far do not suggest any craft that can match our speed." The ship's Scrymistress sat behind a small collection of consoles and was no longer melded to the ship's central auspex console, the Nexus' healing technosorcery regrowing her legs and reinvigorating her once frail body. Discreet, wireless implants replaced the profusion of cables that used to connect her head to the barnacled machinery on the bridge's ceiling, allowing her to do her job just as effectively as she used to.

Lotara gave a curt nod at the report, though there was a sense of satisfaction brewing from the rest of the bridge. "Good. We'll proceed with the plan, then." She paused, and then gave Kharn a look. "I'll need Angron to give the order."

As if on cue, the bridge's door opened. "And you have it, captain," Angron casually replied, striding in his new warplate of white and blue.

Even with his primarch's presence - his aura, as Sev and his scientists had called it - consciously muted, Angron still commanded the awe and attention of everyone before him. The paternal nobility still grabbed Kharn's attention as it did the first time he saw his primarch without the gnawing influence of the Nails. There was the swell of reassurance, almost protective, that made the mortal crew break into grateful smiles. Even the usually stern captain had slackened noticably with relief as she bowed before Angron.

"By your will, my primarch."

Angron graced them with a smile as he reached for the handheld comms on the captain's console. "To all ships, this is Primarch Angron. You know what is expected of you, and I trust that you do not require me to hold your hands and guide you through your duties. Overall command of the void battle will be entrusted to Captain Lotara Sarrin until..."

He paused, and then cracked a grin. "Until my return, consider her acting admiral of this fleet."

Lotara's eyes went wide and she went pale at the sudden promotion.

"It's just an option to explore," Angron said after he ended the general comms, and gently placed his oversized hand on her shoulder. "The Conqueror is still yours, regardless."

"I, uh…"

Angron slowly nodded at the shocked captain before turning to his equerry. "Kharn, with me. Have the companies meet at the teleportarium."

*****

Taking a page out of the Nexus' doctrine a wave of torpedoes was launched before World Eaters' fleet engaged with their ork counterparts. Unlike the previous volleys, these projectiles jinked and juked through the enemy formation, avoiding the vessels as best as they could. Enough made it through the streams of orkish cannon fire to then make a beeline towards their intended target.

Last minute adjustments were made to account for orbital mechanics before the torpedoes ran out of fuel, and momentum took over. As the void lit up behind them from the destructive exchange of ships, the torpedoes dove straight for Salynis. They streaked through the atmosphere like a meteor shower, and crashed all across the planet's surface.

Upon their landing, the emitters cradled within each torpedo's casing came alive with data bursts powerful enough to blind nearby sensors, and just strong enough to be received by the World Eaters' fleet that was slowly carving the edges of their enemy's chaotic non-formation.

The beacons screamed for no more than half a minute, and then the air around them lit up with the lightning crack of displaced air. Shockwaves toppled the husks of buildings and flung back curious orks, to make way for what now filled the emptiness.

And then there was a rising hum of activated weapons as plasma coils and powered blades glowed alive, soon drowned out by the throaty roars of hungry war engines.

Across the planet, whole companies of World Eaters spread out to begin a great culling. The orks on Salynis were wholly unprepared for the sudden invasion. Too many lookouts and scouts took precious seconds trying to register the tide of blue and white that came their way, and those warbands too busy squabbling with each other were completely caught unawares.

The World Eaters slammed into ramshackle forts and confused mobs with cold, unrelenting violence. The air burned with an electric tang as plasma bolts streamed from the legion's battlelines. Improvements drawn from once-forgotten technology allowed for plasmaguns to completely replace bolters and volkites. The ruinous blasts of energy left little of their greenskinned victims and melted through all but the thickest of armor plates.

In the same manner, power swords, knives and axes replaced their more mundane counterparts, and what few orks that managed to remain standing were swiftly cut effortlessly into pieces.

Sicaran tanks and grav speeders equipped with melta lances and turbo lascannons turned enemy fortifications into molten heaps, and vehicles into clouds of burning debris. Newly designed Predator Doomstorm support tanks unleashed swarms of plasma missiles at unsuspecting warbands from leagues away.

Through the violence the legionnaires did not roar, they did not break into frenzied charges, unlike their previous incarnation. Every Space Marine marched at an even pace, offering little more than clipped status reports or grunts of exertion.

The XIIth​ Legion lived up to its name as they advanced, barely slowing as their enemies were consumed by waves of actinic energies.

In one battlefield, Angron led from the front, a contemptuous war god that barely paid any attention to the orks that stood in his path, for however long they existed before wrist-mounted plasma blasters erased them from his sight. The primarch barely reacted when a hulking ork warboss roared out a defiant challenge. He merely marked the warlord as a target, and let the plasma cannons and lascannons of the heavy weapons teams behind him silence the ork.

Out in space, the orks were methodically broken down, helpless against a fleet that outsped and outranged them. There were no boarding actions, the World Eaters' ships maintaining their distance from their foes throughout the one-sided engagement. However much the ork kaptains raged in frustration, their enemy did not deign to be a good sport, and one by one the city-sized hulks were torn apart by lances and torpedoes.

By the time a full Salynis day cycle was complete, significant regions of the planet had been purged of its alien overlords. On the tactical holomap, it looked like something bit off huge chunks from the green-tinted world, leaving voids of blue. Orbital supremacy was also gained as the World Eaters' fleet swept away the orkish drydocks and stations.

Communication was established with those human hideouts along the way, and soon the first the Salynisian survivors knelt and sobbed at the feet of their liberators, before being escorted to temporary camps for medical aid and nourishment.

While the Salynisians celebrated their first steps towards freedom, the World Eaters conferred to review their new weapons and doctrine, refining the shape of their rebirthed Legion.