Make a Legend

"My lord! For your victory—for total victory over the Greenskins—I am willing to cast aside every honor I have ever earned!"

His rough voice rang out like a hammer striking stone. Harlan's answer left everyone in the command room astonished, and deeply impressed.

Haran Ogilvy was a man who placed immense importance on honor. He had nursed a grudge against Xilan for a long time over the gains and losses of honor.

He was the sharpest presence on the battlefield. He had slain enemy commanders, seized their banners, broken through their lines, led the charge, and faced the edge of the enemy's blades. The praise and honors he had won were beyond counting.

His reputation resounded throughout Nul, and he had left a deep impression on his enemies. Their champions had fallen to Harlan, and that was not a disgrace, but an honor.

Even the Orks praised him.

And now, Doom's plan needed fame. It needed Harlan to sacrifice everything he had earned in the past for victory.

"Excellent!" Doom reached out and pulled the Champion Swordsman to his feet, then patted him on the shoulder with an approving look.

Doom himself did not place much value on honor, but Harlan's sacrifice was still worthy of admiration.

Sacrifice was not an obligation. When someone sacrificed themselves for the greater good, those who benefited from it ought to remember them.

"Come on, Lady Erica. I'll need your help in a moment."

Doom led Harlan and summoned the dazed stealth master before leaving the command room and heading toward the Ork gathering point.

In the blueprint of the plan, Erica was an indispensable link, equally important as everything else.

As for command, there would be no communication problems within the War Fortress's scanning range.

Though he was on the front line, Doom could still issue precise orders in time through the sensor attached behind his ear.

"What do you intend to do?" Erica's beautiful face was humble. After witnessing the Warlord's almost artistic precision and wisdom, she was thoroughly convinced and uneasy over her own recklessness.

Could someone so rational, so farsighted and prophetically wise, have calculated that she would enter the command room as well?

"Don't be afraid!" Doom maintained his imposing expression, but his voice softened considerably as he soothed her panicked heart. "For the sake of victory, I intend to create an Ork legend!"

Doom had consumed Orks and learned a great deal about their race, allowing him to make many bold hypotheses.

The Orks possessed a psychic energy field. The more Orks gathered, and the more they agreed on a particular matter, the more clearly that mysterious energy manifested.

Their war machines were the best proof.

By human standards, the junk vehicles cobbled together by the Orks should not have been able to move at all. Yet under an Ork's control, they could run. When their war machines were painted red, they ran faster and lasted longer.

The Forging Academy, which nurtured technical talent beneath the Guardian Domain's Core Forge, had confidently conducted in-depth research into Ork machinery, only to gain pitifully little.

It had, however, discovered an unexpected phenomenon.

The Orks could use any kind of junk to build weapons of war. They could even imitate the Night Watchers and cobble together ramshackle power armor.

There was only one thing they could not use—the Nul Crystal.

In the eyes of the Orks, crystals were worthless stones.

Even when they saw humans using them, they never tried to imitate them, as if the Nul Crystal simply did not exist in their understanding.

Their unique psychic field also struggled to drive the crystals. To the Orks, the Guardians' spears and swords were inferior to a rusty scrap knife.

Doom's plan made valuable use of the Orks' psychic field. It was perfect for wiping out Orks.

"Create an Ork legend?" Erica furrowed her slender brows and softly repeated Doom's exact words, carefully considering their meaning.

Suddenly, her expression changed. Her alluring voice trembled as she suppressed her fear. "What you're doing is far too dangerous!"

"Dangerous?"

"What do you think this place is? Is there anything on a battlefield that isn't dangerous?" Doom's gentle voice suddenly turned stern. His sharp gaze pierced Erica's blue eyes, and the innate pressure of a Primarch made her break out in a cold sweat.

"Our warriors are in danger. To bring this war to an end as quickly as possible, I have many methods—but this is the fastest!"

"Or do you have a better method, Lady?"

Expectation suddenly filled Doom's tone. He raised a hand and pointed to his ear. "I'm all ears!"

"I don't possess your talents." Erica turned her face away, not even daring to meet Doom's gaze.

"Then follow my arrangements. Carry out the tactical orders I give you."

Doom gazed into the distance, continuing to work out the details in his mind as he prepared to complete the crucial link.

The enormous War Fortress moved with the battlefield and stopped in a low-lying area far from the Ork gathering point, lest it be discovered and become a target.

Doom climbed a short hill alone. He needed no long-range observation equipment; his extraordinary vision took in everything happening more than ten kilometers away.

The Orks were lured in by the Rangers riding gravitic motorcycles, gradually gathering together.

The savage creatures roared and shoved one another, fighting among themselves. Their twisted features were hideous and ugly, their grotesque mouths opening and closing to reveal rows of rotten, jagged fangs.

Just as Doom had expected, he clearly sensed it.

When large numbers of Orks gathered together, they would fight among themselves. Then, under the influence of the psychic field, the one who won the most worship became their boss.

Doom smiled faintly. Now he would interrupt that process and artificially control the birth of a boss.

As the Orks gathered, the Night Watchers converged from every direction.

At the Warlord's command, a thousand-strong unit of Night Watchers launched an assault from the flank and rear, instantly drawing the Orks' attention.

They grinned viciously, let out delighted roars, and charged forward as one.

The Night Watchers held large shields and advanced in a defensive formation, constantly firing spears and blades into the swarming Ork horde.

Blood sprayed as bodies were cut apart, further inflaming the Orks' savagery. Their eyes turned bloodshot with excitement as they screamed and charged the Night Watchers' line, weapons raised.

"Rangers, enter."

Several Ranger units riding gravitic motorcycles entered the battlefield. They activated their defensive fields and extended their cutting blades, repeatedly charging through the Ork formation along several routes marked out by the Warlord.

"Long-range fire, strike!"

Shells and plasma landed precisely on their designated points. The goal was not widespread destruction, but to create enough chaos under Doom's precise control to make the Orks lose their sense of direction.

"Erica, have your men snipe them!"

Every subordinate of the stealth master wore a Stealth Shading Suit. Hidden in concealed positions, they used long-range sniper rifles to hunt important targets.

Following Doom's command, large Orks were visibly struck in the head one after another amid the chaotic horde, then collapsed unwillingly.

Doom watched the battlefield with satisfaction. Everything was proceeding step by step, exactly as he had planned.

"It's your turn to enter, Harlan!"

"I am Haran Ogilvy!" The motorcycle's amplification array carried the Champion Swordsman's taunting roar across the entire battlefield. "Green-skinned cowards! Send out your boss to fight me!"

A white figure wielding two energy swords leaped from the motorcycle and crashed into the very center of the Ork horde. His deafening roar even drowned out the battlefield's cries of slaughter.

Every Ork's attention was drawn to him. Under Doom's direction, the Night Watchers gradually slowed their assault and even began retreating toward the edge of the battlefield.

The stage was set. It was time for the protagonist to begin his performance!

Who was the Ork boss? There was no boss now, but every Ork lad with ambition wanted to become one.

Haran Ogilvy!

The Ork lads had heard his name—a powerful human big'un who had killed many powerful Ork lads.

"Kill him! Kill him! Whoever kills him is the boss!"

No one knew where the roar came from, but it quickly spread throughout the Orks—kill Haran Ogilvy, and become the boss!

"Nicely done, Erica!"

Doom praised the stealth master. She had used the Stealth Shading Suit to infiltrate the Ork horde and shout those words.

For a professionally trained assassin and infiltrator, imitating the Orks' voices and manner of speech was not difficult.

"Keep waiting. Your mission isn't over."

In the center of the stage beneath everyone's attention, the duels began. Several Orks larger than ordinary lads stepped forward to challenge Harlan.

They spontaneously formed a circle. Heads jostled amid the green tide as the Greenskins craned their necks, waiting for a boss to be born.

The Orks had no rules in any other aspect, yet they were surprisingly orderly when it came to fighting.

The Champion Swordsman lived up to his name. A towering lad charged into the dueling circle but could not withstand a single round before Harlan cut off his head.

Another Ork charged forward, and another corpse was added to the ground.

For a full ten minutes, the dueling circle grew wider. Harlan fought with increasing ferocity, his longsword dancing as he slaughtered the Greenskins into silence.

"Is that all? Is this all the Greenskins are capable of?"

The Orks' psychic field now began to work against them. Tens of thousands of Greenskins believed Harlan was invincible and gradually lost the courage to challenge him.

Just then, a timid voice rang out: "I challenge you!"

(I'm in terrible shape today. I didn't get enough rest last night, and they're still cutting up the road and burying pipes beside me. My head is buzzing!)

I don't even dare ask for votes anymore—sob, sob! Special thanks to the bosses who sent rewards!