Despite the flames lighting up the mountainside and banishing the shadows away in dancing, flickering tongues of fire, none of the Orks really noticed us as we sneaked through the shear and utter chaos of their encampments. Massive bands of Ork Boyz clashed, screaming and roaring as they tore into each other with massive choppahs or blasted each other apart with their shootahs. It became impossible to tell which of them belonged to which settlement as the furious battles very quickly devolved into an all-out war with no real sides or leaders as even the Nobz themselves, who held leadership roles, joined the ceaseless violence. All the while, bands of Orks and Gretchins upon armored vehicles, heavily armed, chased the rampaging Catachan Devil, hoping and praying for a good fight, even as they ran amok and made a mess of things.
Each and every settlement was either ruined or aflame, their original purpose lost to the carnage.
"WAAAAAAGH!" The Ork roars echoed through the blazing night, accompanied by the ripping and tearing of flesh, the cacophony of shootahs, and all sorts of explosive devices ringing across the air as the brutish Greenskins warred against each other.
Amidst this chaos, my squad and I circled and strafed, making our way through the desolate passages that lay just outside the settlements themselves, the same path I'd taken when I first set out to blow up the Ork Oil Refinery. Of course, it didn't look anywhere close to when I'd taken it, but that was probably because of the fact that it was now covered in ruin and debris, the refinery settlement having been blown to absolute smithereens, alongside the Orks that dwelt in it. So, there was no shortage of burnt corpses, half-melted beams and sheets of metal, and greased rubble and all sorts of ruined junk, strewn about on the ground as we passed.
"Good riddance," One of the veterans muttered, kicking away the blackened head of an Ork.
"Indeed," Markus added, scowling as he stepped over a blasted, smoking carcass. "The beasts deserve death a millionfold."
Every single one of them, I knew, lost a loved one to the Orks when the whole world fell. Their rage fueled them, kept them alive, even when hope and vengeance seemed out of reach. And now, I was here and revenge was merely a few kilometers or so away. Once the Communications Jammer fell to the [Poor Man's Rose], I planned on using the [Catachan Barking Toad] to further eradicate the remaining Orks, assuming there would be any, to establish that beachhead for the coming army of Custodians and angry Guardsmen.
Ah, I almost couldn't wait for the coming battle.
I smiled. [Concept Shaping] told me just how much my squad mates wanted their vengeance, their pound of flesh. "And, in the God Emperor's name, we shall deliver death unto them."
We moved quickly and silently, our path lit by the inferno blazing behind us. The landscape was a twisted mockery of its former self, charred remains of Ork architecture jutting out from the earth like skeletal fingers. The ground was littered with debris and bodies, their twisted forms testament to the violent confrontation that had transpired here. Each step we took was a reminder of the brutality we faced, but also of the mission we were about to accomplish.
"Hold," I whispered, raising a hand to signal a stop. Ahead, two Orks were engaged in a fierce brawl, their weapons clanging loudly as they attempted to bash each other's skulls in. That would not have been much of a problem if not for the fact that they were standing in our way and, by then, it was impossible to try and move around them. We waited, our breaths held, until one of the Orks finally overpowered the other, delivering a final, crushing blow to its adversary's head. The victor let out a triumphant roar, but before he could revel in his victory, I signaled to Markus, who dispatched the Ork with a single, precise shot, a crimson laser beam punching right through the Greenskin's skull and exploding its head in a steaming shower of gore.
"Clear," Markus murmured, his voice barely audible over the din of battle. There were other Orks nearby, but I knew none of them would notice use, the sneaky little shadows in the night. And, unless there were Purple Orks around here, then none of the green ones were at all interested in a war of stealth.
We moved on quickly enough, darting from cover to cover, keeping our heads low and our senses sharp. In a way, the fact that only very few of the survivors accompanied me on my quest – and all of them veterans at that – proved be a massive boon as the old ones, despite their age, moved with a confidence and fluidity that was simply absent in younger, greener Guardsmen.
"Something's out there," I said, my [Concept Shaping] coming to life and warning me of a great and terrible danger... somewhere. Nothing close to Athulhum in stature, no, but definitely powerful enough to wipe out my squad if I led them straight to it.
For a moment, we stopped and hid behind a burnt vehicle. The mountainside settlements eventually tapered off the closer it got to the Communications Jammer itself, four becoming three and three becoming two and so on. Even with all the chaos that raged, the final settlement remained untouched, unmarred. And there was a presence about it that sent a chill to my bones, a great and terrible power that I felt only with [Warp Shaping] and [Concept Shaping].
"What's wrong?" Markus asked, brows furrowed.
Briefly, I closed my eyes and focused internally, on what I felt, an aspect of my power I sadly had not yet mastered or even came close to mastering. What I did feel, however, was a potent presence that wielded the warp, an Ork Witch or, in the Orkish tongue, a Weirdboy.
Very dangerous.
I opened my eyes, but I did not turn to him. "There's an Ork witch up ahead."
My squadmates paused at that. But I saw the dawning realization in their eyes. All of them, at least, had seen or faced an Ork Weirdboy once before and knew how powerful such creatures actually were. I did not know how powerful they were because I'd not met one before. I only knew the name because I'd been an Ork once and all their knowledge seemed instinctual in nature. At the very least, I knew how Witches and Sorcerers functioned; more often than not, they preferred to attack from a distance and, more than anything, relied almost exclusively on their warpcraft, something they couldn't as easily leverage in melee range – maybe.
"What do we do?" One of the veterans asked, though I wasn't sure which of them did. "Ork Witches are... notoriously difficult to deal with. Not because they're invincible, but because their foul sorcery is random. We have to kill it quickly."
I nodded. I had to consider the possibility that the Weirdboy was, in fact, capable of killing me through a multitude of ways that even it was likely not even aware of, which was honestly typical of an Ork. The best way to deal with it was to make sure it didn't have to time to do anything at all, killing it as quickly as possible. Actually, that's how I planned on dealing with every single enemy, unless I wanted to humiliate them for whatever reason or if I wanted to level up a specific skill. "Agreed."
Fortunately, there was only one Weirdboy. Having to deal with two of them would be a nightmare. "Keep your heads down. I'm going to deal with the Ork Witch. If things take a bad turn, you'll have to make a run for it. If nothing else, help me clear a path – one way or another, that blasted device is going down."
The Communications Jammer itself was right there, not even particularly far. My squad of aged veterans nodded. None of them, I noted, were eager to confront a xeno witch and I could understand that. At the very least, there were far fewer Orks here than there were in the lower settlements. So, unless I tarried for too long, it was unlikely any of the Greenskins would find them.
Nodding, I crouched low and went ahead of them. There was enough debris, large and small, that I easily made myself scarce. An explosion rocked the ground, forcing me to stop. I looked up and there was a tank, burning and mangled, flying overhead. A glance over my shoulder told me that the Orks who were crazy enough to try and hunt the [Catachan Devil] were not nearly as lucky as they would've preferred as the gigantic creature began fighting back earnestly. Good, I mused, that should draw plenty of attention.
I moved on.
The final settlement, where the Weirdboy lingered, was mostly comprised of a series of watchtowers, whereupon Gretchins manned massive ramshackle guns, and buildings that didn't really seem to have any real purpose, other than housing. There were Ork Boyz and Nobz within, standing behind a chain fence, but they didn't seem at all affected by lull of combat. They also seemed to possess, at least by Ork standards, weapons of a higher quality and some form of armor to cover their bodies with. The Weirdboy himself was barely taller than an Orkboy, but clearly commanded plenty of respect.
Barely armored and wielding only a bony staff that jingled and rattled with every little movement. Actually, the Weirdboy wore mostly rags and bits of metal, with plenty of little bones everywhere else on its form, profane symbols and arcane things etched upon its skin. Killing it would be simple, if only its body didn't shimmer with a bubble of warp energy, which I knew for a fact was a shield of some kind, better than any armor worn by the Orks around it. And that meant I couldn't kill the Weirdboy immediately – at least, not from afar as I would've preferred.
I didn't want to draw the attention of the Ork Boyz and Nobz. Engaging them meant I'd reveal myself. No, I couldn't do that. I was gonna have to distract them, then. I extended a tendril from my foot, which slithered into their camp. I didn't need anything flashy or loud, just something enough to cause a ruckus. The best thing to do would be to somehow get the Ork Boyz to attack each other, thereby drawing in the Nobz. In the chaos, I'd swoop in and kill the Weirdboy.
So... I suppose now was a good time to make use of that [Normal Punch] I'd been keeping in my Inventory. It couldn't be traced back to me, by its very nature as a skill, which was perfect since having to throw a punch myself meant one of the Orks might just trace a wayward appendage back to me. I'd use the [Normal Punch] on an Orkboy at the center, hitting him at the back of the head and that would, hopefully, cause a violent chain reaction as the Ork Boy inevitably punched the Ork behind him. Perfect.
Actually, it was rather strange that the Orks were in formation at all. Such discipline wasn't natural to them, I knew for a fact.
The only way this plan wouldn't work was if these Orks were mind controlled somehow. But... that didn't seem likely.
Finding the middlemost Ork Boy wasn't particularly difficult. And none of them noticed the pin-thin tendril I had slithering by their feet. I picked a particularly angry-looking Ork Boy, who seemed at the very edge of whatever discipline held him back from joining the chaos outside the settlement. I aimed for the back of his head and, with a shrug, activated [Normal Punch]. And-
The whole mountain vanished in a burst of air and dust and debris and broken bodies, chunks of metal and rock and stone, followed by an shockwave that flattened every single structure on the mountainside and sent everything else flying away.
AN: Chapter 56 is out on (Pat)reon!