Varnacus was on the verge of madness.
Orks were an enigma to him. His plan should have been perfect—he had never made a mistake.
War had broken out. The Orks should not have noticed this place; they should have let the Wendigo Church bastards come alone, only to meet their doom here.
They knew the followers of those false gods would surely find a way to sabotage their plan to offer the world to the Blood God, because all their gods feared the Blood God.
That was understandable, for the Blood God was the supreme and only master.
But clearly, the Orks were just as troublesome as their master—the Chosen Lord.
"It's all over, Mad Dog of the Blood-Worship Cult. Stop your ritual."
Kaoreish shouted with borrowed authority. Two hundred Orks stood behind him. Though the scene before them was astounding, it did not frighten him.
"I've long heard how stubborn you Wendigo whelps are, but you know neither who I am nor what I have seen. When this ends is up to me."
Varnacus snarled through gritted teeth, yanking the woman's hair even harder. He severed her head completely, then tossed it into the blood pool.
"You're finished, idiot! You're about to go—"
The next instant, Kaoreish was cut off as the walls on both sides suddenly began to warp.
The Wendigo Church follower immediately dropped to his knees and began convulsing violently.
Blood poured from his ears and nose. His incoherent screams revealed pain and terror as some abnormal force tore at his mind.
"Stop... him..."
Ur immediately sensed something was wrong, but just as he raised his gun, everything changed.
The eight enormous brass vessels erupted in flames, as though what sloshed within them was not blood but grease. The blazing fire was an unnatural crimson.
The