The Ork screamed and roared and thrashed in pain as I shoved my hand into its chest, ripping through flesh and bone alike as I began altering its very being, down to the microscopic level. I'd wanted to do this since that cave, but I never really had the chance to. I figured that now was the best time for it, with the Kharsons cutting a bloody swathe across the Ork Boyz and Nobz, killing them left and right as though their lives were but flickering flames to be extinguished on a whim. They tore through the Ork ranks, unfazed and unchallenged, killing at will. Hundreds died by their Power Swords within moments and hundreds more died within the next. That they were able to do all of this without Power Armor was, frankly, amazing. But that also meant that I really did not have a lot of time to perform my little experiment on the lone Ork Boy that'd somehow survived their onslaught, losing only its legs and arms.
"Don't struggle, little xeno," I whispered to it as I forced its molecular and genetic structure to take on new shapes and strands. Its bones thinned and lengthened, its skin turned from green to light brown, its skull shrunk and changed shape. Every passing moment, the Ork went from xeno to human. Its screams did not cease, however; in fact, it only got worse. After another moment, I'd done it; I completely transformed the Ork's body into that of a human. It was also quite dead, steam and smoke rising from its eyes and mouth. I'm not entirely certain what I'd done wrong. [Warp Shaping] and [Concept Shaping] told me, however, that merely altering the body was not enough. It seemed like forcibly changing its race might've burned out its soul entirely; and so, for my little idea to actually work, I'd have to alter both body and soul at once.
Hmm... my [Warp Shaping], which was the ability that allowed me to manipulate soul energy, wasn't at a high enough level for me to alter the soul of any being. Though, I could use the recently-deceased Ork's body as a vessel for an Artificial Soul; it's not quite the same no matter how I look at it. Merely replacing the soul meant that I didnt really turn the Ork into a human, but simply killed it and used its body to make one from scratch – not the same.
Sighing, I stood up and turned away. Turning a xeno creature into a human was beyond my reach for now. Mutants, however, were very much within the realm of possibility – for what were they but noble human souls trapped within hideous and mutated bodies? Certainly, I could offer them the God Emperor's Mercy and transform their bodies, assuming they were worthy. The Cave Dwellers of Sylvia were unworthy, having made themselves the enemies of mankind. But there were many mutants, Abhumans, who served the Imperium as loyal and fervent servants, like the Ratlings. If nothing else, they deserved a chance to be reborn in the true form of humanity. But that was neither here nor there.
The severed head of an Ork Nob flew overhead, steaming and hissing where the flesh met the Power Sword. In all directions around me, the Kharsons killed and killed, their unrelenting forms appearing little more than bloody blurs as they darted to and fro, killing as many Orks as they could, before reappearing elsewhere. Roars of frustration echoed from the Ork ranks, the Ork Boyz and Nobz simply unable to perceive the movements of the Kharsons. I couldn't fault them, of course, since not even members of the God Emperors most holy Adeptus Astartes could do so without great effort.
Smiling, I walked forward. A Nob charged me, wielding a massive choppah the size of a human child. This one, I noted, was larger and faster than the others, likely at the crux of some transformation into an Orkoid form that was closer in stature to a Warboss. This one wasn't quite there yet, but it was clear to see that it was an Ork of great rank. It moved sluggishly, I noted, appeared almost as though it were forced to run inside a tank of viscous oil. I turned and walked towards the Nob, idly noting all the floating particles and debris in the air around me, things that would've otherwise appeared as blurs if I'd not enhanced myself to the same level as a Custodes.
I reached forward and tore the Nob's face right off its skull. I then grabbed both of its arms and pulled them aside, ripping them right out of their sockets, ligaments and flesh alike. Such an act would've taken great effort had I been in my previous [Enhanced Human] form, which only took from the physiology of the Adeptus Astartes. But now, however, I hardly felt any sort of resistance as I tore the Ork's limbs away and launched a kick right into its chest, breaking all of its ribs and crushing all of its organs into pulp. Of course, this creature being an Ork; I knew well enough that it was actually still alive – somehow. Before it even reached the ground, I grabbed both of its legs and pulled, tearing its whole body into two bloody halves, its ruined organs and guts spilling into the ground in a crimson heap.
The whole thing took me less than a moment. And to think the true Custodians were even faster and stronger than I was. The thought was unreal. Lord Whaamu warned me, however, that Orks who'd reached the stature of Warbosses were entirely different monsters, capable of taking on entire squads of Astartes and even matching a Custodian; and Orks only grew stronger and stronger with every battle they faced. The Warboss, I figured, was going to be a real challenge.
"Kharsons!" I roared as I drew the [Lightsaber] from my [Inventory] and cut down another gaggle of Ork Nobz, each one armed with massive shootahs with bullets the size of fists. One thing I quickly noted about Orks was that they werent entirely suited for dueling. Their whole race was geared towards total war, billions against billions; they floundered when fighting only a few enemies who were of a much higher quality. "Forward!"
The Warboss, as far as I was remotely aware, was located in the heart of the Ork Stronghold, surrounded by legions and legions of Nobz and Ork Boyz and all sorts of crude war machines that looked as though they'd fall apart at any moment. I even spotted the looming shadows of Gargants in the distance, shrouded by smoke and fog. The Custodians warned me of them. I'd never had the honor or the privilege of seeing an Imperial Titan for myself, but I'd been told that the God-Machines were truly a sight to behold, destruction and devastation incarnate. The Orks had their own version, known as Gargants – crude, primitive, and deceptively powerful. Its movements shook the very ground at my feet, causing even tiny pebbles and rocks to dance and bob and weave.
I hoped our forces could deal with that thing, because I had no idea how I could possibly stop it, short of assuming my [Eldritch Form] and killing every living thing within range. The [Catachan Barking Toad] might stop it, but I couldn't be entirely sure that the Gargant wouldn't simply go on a rampage afterwards and cause an even bigger mess than it otherwise would have. In that regard, I was going to have to put my trust in my allies and hope for the best. The God Emperor was with us, after all; victory was already in our grasp.
The Ork Stronghold was... quite a distance away, actually. It'd be hours before we actually reached that place, assuming the battle remained consistent. We pushed onward. I joined the Kharsons in the massacre. Blood flowed freely and filled the streets. The Orks, likely due to their numbers, hardly mustered a proper counterattack force. Instead, they floundered about, like a great big beast that was incapable of dealing with or defending itself from a stinging fly that flew circles around its bulk. My team was small and mobile – far too mobile for the Orks to deal with effectively. I raised a hand and we stopped. By then, I figured, our blades had already culled about a thousand Orks and it'd only been a few minutes since we arrived.
I pointed at a ruined structure, covered in dust and debris, dirt and grime. The very sight of it made my blood boil. It was a chapel. The Imperial Aquila all but destroyed, its interior likely plundered and desecrated by the Orks, who'd been here for a long time. They knew not its importance and very likely did not care for it. There were about a hundred Orks within and around the fallen chapel, lumbering about without a care. When I saw one of them defecating on a mural of the God Emperor, my blood boiled. "Kill them all. The holy places of the God Emperor shall not be desecrated by xeno scum!"
Without another word, the Kharsons charged and I charged with them. The Orks within and around the chapel turned to us and unleashed a storm of bullets and slugs our way. The projectiles surged across the open air, but we were faster than them, still – fast enough to avoid them as we charged. I roared as I reached them, my red [Lightsaber] humming as I sliced the Orks apart, absorbing the biomass of the fallen or simply devouring them as they lived. Unsatisfied, I sent the [Lightsaber] away and turned half of my body into a rolling, writhing mass of feeding tendrils, tentacles, and teeth – all of which lashed out at blinding speeds. The Orks didn't even have time to scream as their bodies were rendered down into mush, into pure Biomass, which I then devoured. Those that were lucky enough to escape my tendrils were cut down by the Kharsons.
The last of the Orks died screaming. The one who defecated on the God-Emperors mural, I saved for last as I used my tendrils to hoist the struggling Greenskin high into the air and then, piece by bloody piece, tore chunks of flesh and bone from its body until there was nothing left of its hideous form – not even its blood. It screamed the whole time and might've been asking for mercy at one point. I didn't care. And I certainly did not stop. I turned to the chapel and lowered my head. One day, it would be rebuilt, stronger and taller; people would enter its halls and kneel and pray before the God Emperor of Mankind, and their prayers would be answered. It was a sacred place and it shall remain so for all time.
"Ave Imperator!"
We continued onward. A part of me did not wish to leave the chapel alone, but I'd avenged its desecration for now and, despite everything, I had no choice but to be pragmatic; spending resources to defend a point of no real strategic value would be spitting in the God Emperor's work. Chapels and churches could be rebuilt, just as long as the human spirit remained indomitable and unrelenting. We marched onward, killing as many of the Orks as we could.
"Deff Dreads ahead!" I roared, spotting the hulking, smoke-belching forms of the lumbering Ork Walkers, each one standing at over twenty feet tall and accompanied by mobs of Ork Boyz and Nobz. There were five of them, in total. I grinned as I charged forward, moving ahead of the Kharsons. The Ork mob and the Deff Dreads stirred as they noticed my presence, but it was far too late. With a grin, I summoned [Mjolnir(Replica)] in my grasp and lunged forward, the hammer pulling me into the air as it cackled with arcs of raging lightning bolts. I then cast the [Curse of Confusion], freezing the Orks in place, right before I slammed the cackling artifact into the ground and unleashed a veritable lightning storm.
AN: Chapter 59 is out on (Pat)reon!