The dark void flickered continuously with the muzzle flashes of macro-cannons.
Another thunderous volley of continuous fire followed, a barrage of shells tearing through the void to blast a Chaos frigate that failed to dodge right in half.
The remaining shells then punched through the disintegrating wreck of the ship as it showered debris, striking a twisted, hideous, and gargantuan ark with immense force.
Void shields flickered with a dim light. Despite orac adjusting the shield power, two shells still pierced through a weak point in the shielding, striking orac's 'body' head-on.
A massive explosion erupted from the hull. The ship's body, already a fusion of various space hulks, sprayed even more fragments under the violent blast.
Inside the intricate and bloated hull, a massive tremor vibrated following the impact of those two macro-shells.
At that moment, on the bridge of the Ark of Omen, orac felt the damage to its 'body'. As its vessel, the servo-skull hovered continuously around Vashtorr.
"I feel as though I was just punched twice, square in the face, by an Apocalypse-class battleship."
orac's servo-skull flickered incessantly, as if blinking rapidly from the pain of being hit.
Vashtorr, meanwhile, watched the feed outside the bridge, observing several more destroyers charging forward and launching a dense swarm of Boarding craft toward the retreating lunar class ship.
A pair of large eyes, devoid of pupils and filled entirely with red 'whites', flickered slowly with light.
Then, in response to orac's craving for 'comfort,' he swung his iron hammer and smashed the servo-skull to pieces.
Without even turning his head, he spoke coldly to orac:
"Get to the front. You can self-repair anyway."
Standing to the side, Abaddon also glanced at the remains of orac's servo-skull by his feet, then kicked the debris away, similarly ignoring orac's attempt at conversation.
As an abominable intelligence imprisoned for many years, orac received no equality from humans, and to Vashtorr, it was merely a somewhat useful tool.
No new servo-skull flew out. After a brief silence on the bridge, the ship began to accelerate forward according to Vashtorr's command.
Meanwhile, more macro-cannon fire from the distant lunar class began to strike orac's 'body'.
Amidst the continuous spray of exaggerated wounds, the rest of Abaddon's and Vashtorr's fleet slowly ducked behind orac, using it as a meat shield for the entire army.
The macro-cannon bombardment grew more tragic, and the Ark's tremors more frequent, but orac did not speak this time, and Vashtorr kept his attention solely on the monitors.
On the monitors now, the boarding parties had already jumped into the lunar class and were engaged in a fierce firefight with the Seven Gods Alliance.
At the very front of the Seven Gods Alliance, the human named Sith was charging through the front lines, a Bolter in one hand and a Khorne sword in the other.
Vashtorr's gaze was fixed with intense interest on the Bolter in Sith's hand, which looked utterly ordinary no matter how one viewed it.
Especially as he watched Sith fire a single Bolter round that, to Abaddon's shock and the boarding party's horror, headshotted a veteran in Terminator power armor, the red light in Vashtorr's eyes grew even brighter.
Until the last member of the boarding party fell in battle and the screen went dark once more. Seeing Vashtorr still staring at the screen, Abaddon's expression turned extremely grim.
"Vashtorr, I've told you several times, boarding parties are meaningless."
"We should have used overwhelming firepower instead."
Abaddon expressed his direct dissatisfaction after watching another wave of troops being sent to their deaths.
Vashtorr, however, withdrew his attention from the screen with great interest, not even looking at Abaddon.
"If that shard was still on you, would we even be here right now?"
Abaddon choked up. Watching Sith warp away again with the lunar class in the distance, Abaddon rubbed the small, newly growing sprout on his head and slightly reined in his dissatisfaction.
"What now? Keep chasing?"
Abaddon changed the subject, and Vashtorr nodded directly.
"Of course we chase."
Abaddon was about to turn and make arrangements with a sense of helplessness, but after Vashtorr finished speaking, he suddenly raised his hand.
Abaddon froze slightly, seeing that Vashtorr had more to say.
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