Blood Haze (VI)

"Waaagh!"

Even Bucktooth hit the ground hard. The warlord let out an enraged roar and struggled to his feet from the rubble.

He looked around and found that all the Scavengers beside him were dead. The rising dust blocked the other Scavengers' view, and he seemed to have been isolated.

When those sorcerers turned toward him and stared at him with soulless, phosphorescent eyes hidden beneath their hoods, Bucktooth felt not the slightest fear.

"Trickery!!!"

Fixing his gaze on the sorcerer, he charged at the enemy like a tidal wave.

Then an unexpected savior appeared—Scrap Wiken, solid as a mountain rock and all sharp angles, emerged onto the battlefield.

The Ork Dreadnought, over four meters tall, took shape amid fire and smoke. Sealed within its mechanical body was the remnant of some furious soul.

At the sound of Wiken opening fire, Bucktooth burst into laughter.

"Ha! You lot are really unlucky!"

Within seconds, the war sorcerers were torn apart by the Dreadnought's heavy-caliber rounds, then blasted into a bloody mist of flesh and bone.

Bucktooth shook himself, flinging away the chunks of flesh stuck to his body.

When he saw one of the war sorcerers had blocked the bullets with sorcery and stood there completely unharmed, he drew his deadly steel claw.

Suddenly, a filthy, viscous rain began to fall from the black clouds. Forked lightning tore through the sky, and the earth shuddered violently beneath the rumbling thunder as rough stones and broken bricks rained down onto the shattered streets.

Bucktooth felt as if he were watching the world itself begin to fall apart.

"Fool!"

The young war sorcerer howled as his body began to twist, disintegrate, and reshape itself beyond his control...

"Did you really think your single-celled barbarism could overcome a great power older than time itself?