Bruce was searching the battlefield for the Orks' true commander. He knew these Beasts well enough to understand that their warlords would surely appear on the fiercest front lines.
They were not like those human generals who commanded from behind the lines. More often than not, an Ork commander was simply a more ferocious warrior.
And Bruce was best at dealing with such warriors.
Because he was a Killer.
But after slaughtering over a hundred Orks, he encountered something that even he found extremely troublesome outside a trench.
An Ork Scrap Iron Blocks Dreadnought, three times taller than an ordinary man, encased in an energy field and heavy metal.
This colossal beast was wildly swinging its gravity hammer, like a derelict machine gone mad after losing control of its programming.
Amid roaring crashes, it reduced the fortifications around it to rubble and twisted steel frames, patiently eliminating every human soldier who approached.
Because of the crude, haphazard design of Ork machinery, it could easily be mistaken at first glance for a huge barrel crashing about. But Bruce immediately sensed the immense destructive power of the thing.
If it were allowed to keep wreaking havoc, this hundred-meter defensive line would inevitably collapse.
The soldiers of the defensive cluster appeared well-equipped and exceptionally brave, but on such a brutal battlefield, they were merely rats trapped in a cage, just like Bruce.
"Prepare several explosive packs!"
Bruce shouted at the bewildered commander in the trench, then drew a weapon he rarely used.
A black, hooked war spear.
With a shriek from his armor, Bruce charged forward without hesitation and drove the spear into the rotating joint connecting the Ork Dreadnought's torso and hips.
The sharp spear pierced its shield, sank deep inside, and burst out through the other side.
With a sizzling crackle,