Muster the Troops (Part 1)

The atmosphere grew unusually cold. All the boyz waited for the big white one's reaction, watching how he would answer the challenge and judging whether he truly was the biggest, strongest, most brutal Ork.

This sort of thing happened every day in Scrap City. The boyz had their own rules for survival—stick with the biggest one, and you couldn't go wrong.

But Guk did not answer Unoka.

Instead, he merely gave a mocking snort, then stepped down from the wreckage of the Morkanaut like a king leaving his throne, carrying himself with unmatched composure and calm.

The Orks moved aside, unwilling to let the big white one's rock-crushing footsteps turn them into dust as well.

Only at such close range did they realize just how enormous this guy really was...

No one had any confidence left in Unoka. Even Kwalad began slowly edging away from his boss. Even he would not follow someone into such a hopeless fight and die with him.

"Boy, what's your name?"

Guk advanced slowly, his heavy armor and the trophy rack of heads behind him clicking and clacking.

At that moment, even Unoka could only stare.

Yet Guk wore that savage, ill-intentioned grin as he gradually pushed him to the brink, to a point where there was nowhere left to retreat.

"Me, me..."

He grew nervous. He raised his axe, ready to split this white freak's skull open, even though the other Ork was nearly a third taller than him.

But the fate of every Ork controlling Shattered Iron Fortress rested on this moment. He could not let years of effort go to waste. He could not tolerate anyone stealing his victory.

"—I'M UNOKA!!!!"

He roared and unleashed the strongest blow of his life.

But the blow never landed.

Moving at a speed utterly disproportionate