Angard knew the Black Sword in his hands as well as he knew himself. When he swung it, it felt light as nothing, yet when needed, it could become heavy as a mountain.
He raised his hand deftly, blocking a vicious sneak attack from an Ork with an agility that did not match his size, then immediately turned his arm and smashed the end of the sword's hilt hard into its face.
The tremendous force and the weight of the Black Sword itself caved in part of its face. Broken bone stabbed out through its cheek, and blood gushed forth. With no time to deal with it, Angard turned, swept the Black Sword horizontally, and killed the other two Orks closing in around him outright.
Heads flew high into the air, their blood splattering across the rock wall. Angard felt no pleasure at the small victory—he had no time to waste on such emotions. He simply turned again, rotating his wrist, and the Black Sword spun with it.
He had used this move hundreds of thousands of times, and it had always worked very well.
This time was no exception.
Driven by inertia and the force he applied, the Black Sword slid smoothly into the neck of the ambushing Ork and carried on through, cutting open its entire upper body. It fell to the ground, while the Emperor's Champion withdrew the blade, assumed a wary stance, and slowly returned to the front of the teleportation device.
There were still eight minutes until teleportation was complete, and he had already killed seventeen Orcs in this cramped space. Their broken corpses piled across the floor, making it difficult for the Orks that came after them to get in.
Their blood and shredded flesh also offered some advantage in the battle. Angard could