NOVEL WEB Chapter 215: Chapter 215 : Orbital Drop Shock Troopers ( ODST )
Orbital Drop Shock Troopers ( ODST ) Helljumpers

Helljumpers: Orbital Drop Shock Troopers (ODST)
Feet First Into Hell.
Among the rare breed of human soldiers who can stand—if not shoulder to shoulder, then close enough—with the superhuman might of the Astartes, there exists a unit whose name is spoken in both reverence and fear: the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers.
Better known as Helltroopers, they are the tip of the spear for the United Nations Space Command Marine Corps, frontline warriors who don't just arrive from the sky—they're dropped from orbit, with lethal velocity and precision that defy human logic.
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Origins and Evolution
The concept of deploying infantry from orbit has existed since the 21st century. But it wasn't until 2129 that the first iteration—Drop Jet Platoons—was tested, with sky-high casualty rates.
The true transformation came in 2163, when the newly-formed UNSC officially founded the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers. Forged in the fires of interplanetary conflict, the ODST rapidly earned a reputation as elite rapid-assault infantry, deployed into the deadliest hot zones—places even SPARTANs sometimes think twice about.
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Insertion Method: Hell in a Capsule
Unlike conventional airborne troops, ODSTs are deployed via SOEIVs (Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicles)—teardrop-shaped drop pods made of Titanium-A and heat-resistant ceramic plating.
Launched from Orion-class assault carriers, SOEIVs plunge through planetary atmospheres at supersonic speeds, burning and shaking like meteorites straight from hell, before slamming into the ground—right at the heart of enemy territory.
> "If you survive the landing, everything after that's a bonus."
— Lt. Colonel Arvin Stack, ODST veteran, prior to the Io operation.
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Training and Physique
ODSTs aren't just trained soldiers. They are human beings pushed to the very brink of mental and physical limits—hardened through agony, disorientation, and relentless stress. In a galaxy where Space Marines are forged through gene-seed and surgical implants, ODSTs are forged through sheer willpower, rage, and unshakable discipline.
They're called Helljumpers for a reason:
Only lunatics—or the exceptionally trained—voluntarily drop feet first from orbit and hope to survive.
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Weapons and Armor
The ODST uniform is a perfect fusion of mobility and resilience. The ODST BDU (Battle Dress Uniform) has remained virtually unchanged for over fifty years—featuring emergency vacuum filtration, segmented body armor, and a tactical HUD-integrated helmet, designed for terrestrial, alien, and zero-atmosphere environments.
They commonly wield silenced weapons such as:
M7S Caseless Submachine Gun (suppressor-equipped)
M6C/SOCOM Pistol (special ops variant)
But when the mission demands it, they're capable of handling virtually any UNSC weapon—or even captured enemy plasma tech.
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Role in the Vultaria Magna IX Conflict
During the rescue mission on the besieged colony of Vultaria Magna IX, several Orion-class ships followed in tight formation behind the Space Marine armada and accompanying Star Destroyers. Within their drop bays, hundreds of SOEIVs were prepped and primed.
The Helltroopers readied themselves—helmets sealed, cooling systems humming, red lights blinking, waiting for that final command: "Drop Green."
> "Remember—feet first. If you land headfirst, tell me what hell looks like."
— Sergeant Major Ilias "Graves" Aven, ODST, moments before insertion into the warzone.
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Sergeant Major Ilias
"In this mission, we're supporting the Brothers Astartes during their landing phase. Once boots are on the ground, our primary objective is to clear out those alien bastards from the outer perimeter of the Hive Precincts.
The inner sectors? Leave that to the Space Marines. They know exactly what to do with filth like that."
Helltrooper 03
"Space Marines? You mean those overhyped tin-cans?"
A ripple of discontent passed through the Helljumper squad. Their doubt wasn't without reason—until now, if anyone was crazy enough to leap headfirst into hell, it was them. Now, they were expected to share the glory with the Emperor's angels of death.
Space Marine — Death Guard Legion
"What did you just say?"
The voice was deep, rumbling, and heavy—like a war drum echoing through steel corridors. A towering figure stepped from the shadows, clad in the dark, battle-worn power armor of the loyalist Death Guard. Without ceremony, he reached out, grabbed Helltrooper 03 by the torso, and lifted him effortlessly off the deck.
Space Marine — Death Guard Legion
"Hmph. Just a man… inside a tin shell."
With dismissive strength, he dropped the trooper unceremoniously back onto the floor and walked away without another word. No argument. No violence. Just cold, silent dominance.
Kort
"Sa'kan, you don't need to worry. Vultaria Magna IX's defense forces are still holding. They haven't given up yet."
Kort stepped forward, his voice calm but firm, injecting a shot of hope into the tense air.
Kort
"I spoke with the ship's captain. We're due to arrive in no more than one terra."
Sa'kan — Salamander Legion Space Marine
"Understood."
Sa'kan donned his helmet. In the pulsing red light of the briefing chamber, his eyes gleamed like twin embers—burning with rage and an unbreakable resolve.
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Hive Precincts — Near the Civilian Shelter
Amid the scorched ruins of the Hive Precincts, two small girls ran through smoke and debris, their breaths ragged and desperate. After their mother, Saraphina, had been taken by the alien invaders, they were utterly alone.
Their last living relative—a brave uncle in the Astra Militarum—had sacrificed himself, holding the enemy at bay just long enough for them to escape. Now, all that remained were distant gunshots, the echo of marching boots, and their prayers.
Alina
"Lord Space Marine… please help me..."
Clutching her sister's hand tightly, Alina pulled Elina into a gap between the collapsed walls of a ruined shelter. Exhausted and shaking, the girls stumbled into the dark hollow. Alina crouched in the corner, her sobs muffled behind trembling hands. In her grip was a small, dark green Space Marine doll—now smeared with blood. Their uncle's blood.
Elina
"Sister Alina… will the Space Marine come? I'm scared… so scared..."
Alina
"He will come. He promised. We have to believe, Elina… We have to believe in him..."
The two girls held each other tightly, their tiny fingers wrapped around the doll as if it alone could protect them. Their sobs fell to silence—until the heavy crunch of approaching boots shattered the quiet.
Zeraphari Soldier
"Hmm... I smell humans nearby..."
A voice, guttural and dripping with menace, echoed through the rubble. From the smoke emerged a grotesque Zeraphari soldier, lugging a heavy machine gun, his armor reeking of rust, grease, and old blood. His eyes narrowed as he spotted the two girls frozen in fear among the debris.
Zeraphari Soldier
"Heh heh… Humans. And they're girls. Delightful..."
The creature's tongue slithered from its mouth, thick saliva dripping onto the ground. It stalked forward slowly, growling like a predator savoring its hunt.
Alina
"Please! Please, Lord Space Marine!"
Elina
"Help us! Help me… Lord Space Marine...!"
Alina, her legs trembling, dragged her injured sister deeper into the ruins. They crawled desperately, trying to flee the monster—but time was not on their side.
With a savage roar, the Zeraphari soldier lunged toward them. His claws scraped at the rubble—but only caught the bloodied dolls slipping from their tiny hands.
Zeraphari Soldier
"Argh! Damn it… So close!"
He stared at the dolls, then chuckled darkly.
Zeraphari Soldier
"Hmm... these toys… might come in handy later."
The creature snatched the dolls in his filthy grip and let out a low, sinister laugh, already imagining the horrors yet to come.
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Orbit of Vultaria Magna IX — Day 1 After the Distress Signal
A formation of Orion-class warships, carrying joint forces of ODST and Astra Militarum, followed tightly behind the Space Marine fleet and towering Star Destroyers. At the heart of the convoy, the central transport ship bore the Salamander Legion—led personally by Brother-Captain Sa'kan.
Warship Captain
"Attention all units! Prepare for Warp exit!"
The captain's voice rang out with calm authority. A brilliant blue flash tore across the void, and one by one, the Imperial-class Star Destroyers and Halo-world battle fleets emerged from Warp. Ahead of them loomed the burning silhouette of Vultaria Magna IX.
The Zeraphari fleet orbiting the planet barely had time to react. Within seconds, they were annihilated—shattered into scrap and alien corpses floating like rotting driftwood in the black sea of space.
Sergeant Major Ilias
"Three minutes to drop! All jump units, prep and form landing grid!"
The Orion-class assault carriers surged into the atmosphere, leading the full-scale planetary invasion. While the Star Destroyers maintained orbital dominance, the Orion ships descended through clouds of flame and thunder. Inside, the ODST troopers braced in absolute, breathless silence.
Sergeant Major Ilias
"We're the first boots in this hellhole! For the Emperor!"
Thousands of Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, clad in black armor and clutching MA5B assault rifles, roared their battle cry and marched toward the drop bays. They were not Spartans. They were not born in labs, enhanced with genetic perfection, or raised on doctrines of war. They were mortal men—men who chose to dive into hell of their own free will.
Fleet Commander
"All units, weapons free. Weapons free."
The Orion hangar bays opened wide, vomiting hundreds of fighters into the sky. As the ODST drop pods screamed down from orbit, the fighters strafed Zeraphari defenses with surgical precision. Explosions tore the clouds apart as the full might of the invasion force descended.
Troop transports delivered both Marines and Space Marines to the surface, while the ODST were dropped deep behind enemy lines—executing a pincer maneuver meant to shatter the Zeraphari's morale from both fronts.
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Battleground — Surface of Vultaria Magna IX
The Salamander Legion made planetfall with the main assault wave. At the very front, Brother-Captain Sa'kan led the charge himself. His chainblade roared to life, cleaving rubble and twisted steel aside as he carved a path forward. His brothers followed behind, heavy weapons humming, formation perfect.
Sa'kan
"What... is this?"
From behind the smoking ruins, a humanoid machine emerged—radiating palpable corruption. Its face was half-metal, its body a grotesque fusion of wires and jagged armor. Its eyes were hollow, yet hungry. And before any analysis could be made, it attacked.
It was a mind-controlled weapon—an abomination of the Suryanat Imperium, a black project of the Garudanth species from the Central Ring. A weapon that hollowed out human souls, leaving only shells designed to kill.
But Sa'kan was no ordinary warrior. He had seen nightmares take many forms. And yet this one—this one—stilled his step.
A voice crackled faintly through a half-destroyed communicator still active in the wreckage:
Saraphina (recorded)
"RIP... citizens of the Empire..."
Without hesitation, his blade sang. In one decisive strike, Sa'kan cleaved the corrupted figure in half—black blood and thick oil erupting into the air.
But as the body fell, its helmet rolled free, revealing a face. And Sa'kan froze.
Sa'kan
"No... No... What is this...?"
He knew that face. From old photographs. From heartfelt letters. From the whispered prayers of two children.
Sa'kan (silent, grieving)
"Their mother... this was their mother..."
He knelt beside the fallen body, muttering a warrior's prayer for Saraphina's soul. And in that moment, a vow forged in sorrow took root in his heart:
He would find those children.
Or he would die trying.