Commorragh.
This was the heart of the Dark City, an endless labyrinth built from pain, intrigue, and insatiable desire.
There was no sun here, no sky, no stars—only layer upon layer of intricate metal vaults and spires, covering the City's body like folds of hardened leather.
Dim, murky light seeped through broken gaps, shrouding the entire City in a sickly amber haze.
The air reeked of rust, chemical perfumes, and old blood, a smell accumulated over countless ages that had long since seeped into every crack in the walls.
Occasionally, a piercing scream rang out in the distance, but it soon vanished within the City's vast structure, like a pebble sinking into the deep sea without raising so much as a ripple.
Amg had spent a long time in this City where pain was currency.
Lorgar's rival and closest friend, the Ork Amg had remained in Commorragh to hone himself ever since their fight all those years ago.
The details of that duel were still etched clearly in the memory housed within his enormous head.
The feel of Lorgar's fist smashing into his jaw, the scorch marks left when that flaming weapon grazed his body.
Amg had accepted his defeat without reservation.
Lorgar had not humiliated him. He had given him a chance—a chance to grow.
It was amid that searing pain that a thought had struck Amg.
He had to grow stronger, strong enough to have another real fight with Lorgar.
And Commorragh, that abyss of depravity gathering the most vicious raiders in the entire galaxy, was the perfect proving ground.
That period of honing himself had lasted decades.
Throughout those decades, Amg had never stood still for a moment.
He had led a dozen other Ork Warbosses and hundreds of billions of Orks in rampages through the labyrinthine