The [Lightsaber] thrummed in my hand as the Orks' raucous laughter echoed across the settlement. First, I mapped all of them in my mind's eye, a three-dimensional image of everything around me as I willed forth multiple ocular organs around my head, giving me perfect vision and essentially no blind spot. There were two hundred Orks around me, all suffering under the effects of the [Curse of Laughter], and more beyond the skill's effective range. It didn't matter. Next, once I'd memorized all their places, I then sprang into action.
Left, right, forward, and back. I wielded the [Lightsaber] and slashed at every conceivable direction. I wasn't any good with the sword – or any weapon for that matter, actually – but my battle with Lord Khars taught me plenty of things about combat. So, while my martial ability was subpar, I knew how to fight now. And I knew that, with a weapon like the [Lightsaber] I didn't need to be a master. The hissing pillar of plasma hissed and screeched as it sliced off limbs and carved open flesh. There was no blood, however, as the seething blade of contained fire seared as it cut. The Orks let out gurgled screams, but another slash sliced off four heads, sending them to the ground – hopefully dead.
The whole martial sequence took only a fraction of a second. One of the flying heads flew overhead, which I then caught with my free hand and devoured, immediately granting me the form of something known as an [Ork Boy]. The very notion of taking on the guise of a xenos creature disgusted me to my very core, but the thought of failure was ten times worse. If I wanted to sow chaos, while avoiding as much attention as possible, I was gonna have to blend in. And so, after muttering a quick prayer to the God-Emperor and asking him for forgiveness, I shifted my form into that of an Ork Boy.
Its internal physiology made no real sense to me, but I knew, however, that I'd benefit more if I combined certain traits from the Astartes Form, like the enhanced musculature and reinforced bones. And so, with but a simple thought, I did just that, creating an internal amalgamation that mashed together the best of both worlds. I then absorbed the other three Orks for good measure and found, to my idle curiosity, that they were – on a genetic level, at least – identical.
Fascinating.
The surrounding Orks still hadn't noticed that I had cut down four of their number. That was good, because they were never gonna find the bodies now. Grinning, I surged forward once more, [Lightsaber] lashing out left and right. I felt... a bit more cumbersome than I otherwise should have, which I figured was the result of the Ork's larger and more heavyset frame, and the disproportionately short legs. Still, I made do with my current form as I hurled myself at the gaggle of Orks, swinging my weapon left and right, whilst devouring just about everything I could get my hands on. Heads, limbs, and organs were sent flying off. I'd killed about ten more.
And then, the [Curse of Laughter] ended.
There came a brief moment of silence and pause as every single Ork turned to each other and then to the body parts on the ground, scattered all around them. I stopped as well and waited. By this point, not a single one of them had figured out who was responsible for the slaughter. Even the small creatures on the walls, manning the large anti-air emplacements, seemed utterly baffled as they turned their massive guns at the horde, searching for me, but finding nothing amiss. And then, the Orks turned to each other.
And my mind suddenly seemed heavy as the green-skinned beasts all raised their weapons and roared. "WAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"
The ground shook as every single Ork charged the Ork that just so happened to stand the closest to them. Despite the grave carnage and bloodlust that followed, there was a palpable sensation of enjoyment, happiness, and contentment in the air. It infected me, too, a sickening warmth that clawed its way into my head, somehow bypassing the ironclad defense of [Gamer's Mind]. It didn't take me long to realizewhy that was.
Whatever was happening wasn't malicious or evil or immediately dangerous to me. What I felt now, the euphoric rush of happiness and enjoyment was simply how the Orks themselves simply perceived the very idea of violence, how their minds twisted it to become something they actually craved in a way that lacked malice. Violence and war and death were, quite literally, the only things that made them happy, that gave them any sort of fulfillment.
And now that I was in the body of an Ork, that very same joy leeched off onto me. The [Gamer's Mind] would still protect me from external influences, however, which meant I'd have to shake away this feeling on my own.
Easier said than done.
The electrifying joviality drove me to joining in the carnage. I sent the [Lightsaber] into my [Inventory] and picked out a [Power Sword] and a [Bolter Pistol], instead.
"RAAAAAAGH!" I roared as I joined in the madness of it all. I swung the [Power Sword] left and right with reckless abandon, trusting in my instincts to guide me, as I pulled the trigger of the [Bolter Pistol] again and again and again, without really aiming for anything at all. A shower of blood and gore cascaded around me. Every single Ork had a smile on their faces, even as they were cut down by their fellows. Many of them came at me, grinning madly, overgrown teeth jutting out like fangs. But I was faster, stronger, and more resilient. I cut my way through the settlement, killing Orks by the dozen, but there didn't seem to be an end to them – a never ending tide of green, of roaring monsters, waving cleavers around. "WAAAAAGH!"
It didn't matter to me.
A large Ork jumped me from behind and cleaved my back open using a massive, misshapen chunk of vaguely sharpened metal. Chaos raged around us. I turned, forcing my wound to close, before I sliced the offending Ork's head right off and devoured its body. And there, I gained the genetic blueprint for some other Ork variant called an [Ork Nob], which was apparently bigger and taller and stronger than an Ork Boy, but the only difference I saw in its physiology, compared to an Ork Boy was a literal increase in muscle and bone mass and nothing else. I didn't need either of those things at the moment as I quite enjoyed the carnage. "WAAAAAAAAGH!"
Still, I figured I'd enjoy it a lot more if I increased the density of my muscle and bone mass by maybe 20% percent, which would grant me far more explosive power than I'd otherwise be capable of. So, I did just that.
And promptly sent my [Power Sword] right into my [Inventory] as yet another Ork Nob rushed me, this one wielding two giant cleavers of mangled metal, roaring and screaming as every other Ork around us engaged in a grand free for all with no real stakes in the matter. It was just mindless fun, really. The Ork Nob jumped high and brought both weapons down at me. With [Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist] I easily deflected the heavy and powerful, but otherwise clumsy attack, absorbing and redirecting all the kinetic energy into my right fist, which I then sent right into the Nob's face, causing the greenskin's skull to explode in a bloody torrent of flesh and bone and skin. The Orks around me cheered for a moment, before resuming their battles.
Three more Nobs rushed me. These ones had the grand idea of dropping their weapons and engaging me in melee. So, grinning, I obliged them. After all, who was I to say no to such magnificent courage? Before they could get to me, however, I charged them. "WAAAAAAGH!"
I leapt forward and punched the leftmost one right in the face, sending the large greenskin tumbling to the ground – not dead as my punch lacked excess kinetic energy, but definitely dazed. The middle one sent a punch to my face, which I easily redirected, absorbing the kinetic energy, which I then transferred to my left fist. My counterattack had double the power of a normal Ork punch, which I delivered straight into its jaw, shattering bone and sending its teeth flying all over the place. Once more, I don't believe it died, but I don't think it'd be getting up anytime soon, either. Awesome!
The rightmost one grabbed... another Ork and used the poor creature as a bludgeoning weapon, held aloft by its ankle. The large nob started swinging it at me with reckless abandon, first with an overhead attach that broke open the Ork's skull when I stepped aside and next with a horizontal swing that missed completely. I then lashed out with two fingers and poked out the Nob's two eyes. Blood spurted from the greenskin's bloody eyesockets. I then wrenched the battered Ork from its grasp and began pummeling the Nob into the ground with it. As I did, I could not help but laugh and laugh until all that was left of the nob was a bloody smear on the ground and all that was left of the Ork bludgeon was its hand, dangling from which were ribbons of crimson flesh.
I beat my chest and roared to the sky, "WAAAAAAAAGH!"
This was amazing! This was happiest I've ever been.
An explosion rocked just about every Ork into the ground. I turned and saw that a large fuel tank had caught fire. And then, just like that, the Orks decided it was time to engage in true violence as they brought out their... guns and began firing at each other, even with their giant cleavers in hand. The battle only seemed to intensify and, as it did, so did that euphoric feeling of joy and happiness, of belonging.
Was this how Orks lived every single day? Because all the ones I've killed seemed happy to die, happy to have fought, happy to have lived the life they wanted.
"WAAAAAAAAAGH!"
I charged another gaggle of Orks; I didn't even care how many of them there were. They fired their weapons at me, but their guns were either hilariously inaccurate or the Orks themselves were hilariously inaccurate, because I didn't get hit – not even once. This time, however, I willed forth two [Power Swords] for both my hands. What followed afterwards was... slaughter. The greenskins had no weapon capable of hurting me; they had nothing that could slow down my regeneration and it seemed like none of them possessed anything that could defend them against the [Power Swords]. So, I killed and ate and killed and ate and killed and ate. And their flesh was dense, which meant I gained a substantial amount of biomass whenever I devoured them.
Every so often, I'd use the [Curse of Laughter] to destroy their momentum. It didn't work quite as well, I found, in the heat of battle, but a momentary lapse in concentration was a big enough window to take advantage of. Hundreds and hundreds fell to my blades. So many of them died and bled that the barren and rocky soil turned mushy and buddy, slicked and drenched in blood. But I wasn't done. There were plenty more all over the settlement, battling each other in a mindless frenzy. And I joined them everywhere I could, falling into a pattern of killing and devouring.
Fire, shrapnel, blood, bullets, limbs, and flesh all flew around in glorious showers of gore and death. I laughed, the Orks laughed; everyone seemed to be having a great time.
I lost all sense of time. Hours passed... maybe days... I don't know. Everything seemed to blur together, blending into some harmonious echo of slaughter and death. And, by the time my senses returned to me in full, accompanied by the greatest shame I've ever felt, I stood atop a mountain of corpses, from which flowed rivers of blood. Thousands and thousands of dead beneath me. I glanced around and saw a field of ashes and dust and ruin. I should've been happy for this. After all, I killed these xenos in the God-Emperor's name...
Or, at least, that's what I told myself.
Instead, I lost myself in the slaughter, becoming closer to the Orks, simply because I wore their skin. I stared at my green hands and frowned, before I shook my head and willed myself into my [Enhanced Human] form.
No, I wasn't going to lose myself ever again.
AN: Chapter 48 is out on (Pat)reon!