The lightning storm from the [Mjolnir(Replica)] came with a gargantuan shockwave that tore through the ranks of the Deff Dreads, sending the smoke-belching mechanical monstrosities flying away, their engines warped and broken by the sudden influx of electrical energies, cooking the Orks held within, burning and charring their flesh and bones. The weapon, Mjolnir, a replica though it might've been, held... far more power than any weapon I've held before. There was a... strange feel to it, I noted, hidden functions that I could pull out if I focused enough. The hammer itself and the lightning that came with it would do just fine, however, for now.
A cackling aura of lightning came to life over my form, before gathering and concentrating into the hammer, Mjolnir. A gaggle of a hundred Orks rushed towards me from behind the downed Deff Dreads. Supporting infantry, I figured, the same way armored divisions never rode to war without the constant support of ground troops. How unfortunate it was, then, for them, that the armored walkers they were supposed to support were all dead. I roared and rushed towards them, the lightning cloak bolstering my speed even further.
The Kharsons, meanwhile, appeared in their back lines, cutting them down before they could even think to look over their shoulders. I swung the hammer and the first Ork Boy I hitdisintegrated, exploding in a cloud of electrified dust particles that soon rippled across the ranks of the other Ork Boyz, killing the closest and stunning the rest. I then raised the hammer high and gathered even more lightning, the skies above churning and turning black with storm clouds at the behest of Mjolnir. Sensing my intention, the Kharsons fanned out just as I slammed the cackling hammer into the ground, unleashing a veritable storm of lightning, shock waves, shrapnel, and debris – ripping apart the remaining Ork Boyz and charring their flesh and their bones and scattering their ashes into the wind.
Very powerful, but I didn't want to rely on this weapon too much, simplybecauseit was too powerful. I didn't want my foes disintegrated, because then I'd have no remains to feast on. So, I sent the [Mjolnir(Replica)] back into my [Inventory]. And, instead, I took out the Vaultsword, which was so big that I had no choice but to hold it with both hands. Lord Khars actually taught me to wield it in such a manner, just enough that I'd be proficient in its use and not cut myself apart by accident, which I did numerous times, considering the sword was taller than I was.
Now, I was confident enough in its usage. Plus, if nothing else, my speed and strength meant that the bare minimum of technique was the only thing I'd need to be efficient in the use of the Vaultsword.
A thunderous crack suddenly echoed as I took a single step forward. I glanced up and raised a brow. "Oh."
The buildings around me collapsed and the ground itself shook as giant fissures and cracks appeared, until entire portions of the road fell and disappeared entirely, falling into the Underhive, which I figured must've also been filled with Orks. All of this, I mused, must've been due to Mjolnir's immense power. After all, for anyone else who wasn't me, Mjolnir would've weighed as heavy as ten megatons, hence why that poor Ork Boy disintegrated in a single hit. And this was only a replica. To me, however, it felt almost weightless. Lord Khars once commented that the weapon made no physical sense. I agreed.
Walking forward, I glanced down one of the holes and frowned, a sea of green moving in the darkness, the stench of Orks in the air.
A part of me wished to go down there and purge the whole of it, but I did not have that much time, especially now as the Ork and Imperial Forces clashed all over the planet, wrestling for control and dominance. An Underhive would very easily be purged once humanity retook control over Sylvia.
For now, I had to reach my target. The death of their Warboss should destabilize the Orks long enough for the Guard to push them even further back. By then, I'd be able to rejoin the front lines – or I could just enter my [Eldritch Form] and wreak havoc right here, securing the capital city before the war was finished.
The Kharsons and I moved forward quickly as the street collapsed entirely, the ground cracking apart as the buildings collapsed into rubble, breaking into the upper portion of the Underhive and, hopefully, crushing several hundreds of the Orks as they did. That would be a lovely thing if it happened. The echoing screams told me that, at the very least, dozens of the xenos scum must've suffered or even died in that collapse. We encountered another gaggle of Orks, close to a thousand of them, this time, each of them armed with heavier weapons than usual, bigger Shootahs. They were also accompanied by Nobz in heavy armor and a contingent of massive Orks, bigger than Nobz, in their own twisted version of Power Armor – Meganobz, armed with massive claws and shootahs.
My eyes narrowed, my thoughts racing. About eight hundred or so Ork Boyz, a hundred Nobz, and twenty Meganobz.
That was not a force that we could take on easily. Luckily, however, I had plenty of tricks. And, really, the skills I received from Dementation worked extremely well against a large number of enemies at once. The Ork Mob noticed us quickly enough, the Ork Boyz roaring as they raised their guns and began firing. None of their bullets reached us, however, as they reacted a little too late. By the time they pulled the triggers on their shootahs, the Kharsons and I had already slipped right through their front ranks. Another moment later, the Kharsons dispersed, moving like blurs of water and color across the open air. Once they were far enough away, I activated the [Cursed of Delirium]. The spell would last for only ten seconds, during which any living creature that was afflicted with it was incapable of making decisions.
Surrounded by so many enemies, I willed forth a mass of tendrils and lashing teeth and maws and gnarled bony hands and fingers to appear from my back to devour everything around me as I surged forth and cut down as many of the Ork Boyz as I could. At least two of the Kharsons would deal with the Meganobz, but the Mega Armor – as far as I was aware – contained a strong enough Power Field to counter their Power Swords, at least for a while. However, Mega Nobz were not so different from Deff Dreads in that they required the support of smaller and more mobile infantry units due to their lack of speed. They were powerful and deadly, true enough, but a Guardsman with no augmentations could probably outrun them.
What made them dangerous was their armor and their long-ranged weapons, shootahs that spat out gargantuan bullets, making them walking artillery. And, just like artillery pieces, when bereft of infantry support, Meganobz were not nearly as dangerous as they'd like to be. In fact, without support, they were weak. I and two other Kharsons worked on reducing the numbers of the Ork Boyz and Nobz. I killed about fifteen to twenty of them every second, my blades and tendrils lashing out in every direction, cutting and devouring as many of them as I could. Ork Boyz and Nobz alike were devoured. Meanwhile, the Kharsons were whirlwinds of death and destruction, their Power Swords spinning and killing and cutting, each strike deadly and swift.
And, by the time the [Curse of Delirium] wore off, we'd killed nearly half of them. Not good enough. As the Orks got ready to retaliate, I sent the Vaultsword into my [Inventory] and, with a mental command, ordered the Kharsons to retreat. The Orks, dazed and confused, began shooting in random directions, oftentimes hitting each other. It was only the Ork Boyz closest to me who were actually aware of their enemy, but it was too late. I send everything I wore and every item I had straight into my [Inventory]. And then, for the first time ever, I altered myself into my [Eldritch Form, my mind immediatelyexpandingas hundreds of kilograms of biomass became an ocean of gnashing teeth and grasping claws and scything talons, snapping maws lined with teeth the size of fingers or forearms, and tendrils of liquid muscle, lined bone spikes – and eyes... so many eyes. I saw and perceived everything around me all at once.
I did not hear the Orks when they screamed in pain and neither did I hear the ripping of their flesh or the crunching of their bones. My tendrils lashed out and devoured almost instantly. Anything and everything they hit was rendered down into pure Biomass and immediately absorbed. I had no control over anything, except for which direction I wanted to go. I kept moving forward. Ever forward.
My thoughts were a tempest as my Eldritch Form consumed everything around me. Each Ork Boy, Nob, and Meganob that fell to my tendrils and teeth was reduced to nothing but biomass, fueling the monstrous shape I'd become. My perception was heightened, each detail of the battlefield sharp and clear, every scent and sound weaving into the tapestry of war that engulfed me. The only thing I tasted was blood.
The Kharsons had retreated to a safe distance, their forms barely discernible blurs as they struck down any Ork that dared to approach. My Eldritch Form tore through the ranks of the greenskins, a nightmare given flesh, a whirlwind of gnashing teeth, rending claws, and snapping tendrils. Ork Boyz screamed, their war cries turning to wails of terror as my form devoured them, the Meganobz, with all their heavy armor, were peeled open like tin cans, their powerful bodies rendered to chunks of meat and metal.
Each step I took left a trail of devastation, the ground itself seeming to recoil from the abomination I had become. My tendrils whipped out, piercing Ork bodies, dragging them into my maw where they were consumed in an instant. The sensation of feeding was intoxicating, the raw power coursing through me almost overwhelming. Yet, even in this form, I retained enough control to direct my rampage, pushing ever forward towards the Stronghold where the Ork Warboss waited.
As I tore through the Ork lines, I felt their resolve begin to waver. The Greenskins, despite their brutish courage, were not immune to fear, and the sight of their comrades being reduced to bloody pulp sent waves of panic through their ranks. The Kharsons capitalized on this, cutting down the stragglers, their Power Swords flashing in the dim light as they blurred just beyond the range of my tendrils, cutting down any Greenskin unlucky enough to cross their path.
The Ork forces thinned out, the survivors scattering in all directions. Ahead of me, the Stronghold loomed, a massive fortress of metal and stone, bristling with crude weaponry and swarming with Orks. The Warboss would be within, the heart of this brutal army. My goal was clear: cut it out and the rest would fall apart.
I eyed the structure for a moment, ignoring the hail of gunfire and explosives sent my way. The Orks, I noted with some amusement, were at an utter loss as to how they were supposed to deal withsomethinglike me. The closer I loomed towards the Stronghold, however, the greater the resistance and, soon enough, the Orks were making use of weapons that delivered enough punching power to tear off great chunks of my eldritch bulk – things that spat green energy beams or bolts of white lightning that burned off large portions of Biomass. Dangerous. And while I'd likely already devoured thousands of Orks at this moment, I couldn't deny that this form had one glaring weakness: its size. All weapons would rain down on me until I couldn't just regenerate through the damage anymore.
I focused my thoughts, my mind a razor's edge of intent, and willed my Eldritch Form to release its hold on me. The transformation was as sudden as it was jarring, my body shrinking back to its human shape. I reappeared in the middle of the air, falling, a wall of bullets and bombs and all sorts of projectiles whizzing past me.
AN: Chapter 60 is out on (Pat)reon!