The Ork Warboss Attacks

At that moment, the battle took a sharp turn for the worse.

The chaos caused by the first Ork assault troops to smash through the windows had not yet subsided when a greater threat appeared.

The Palace's grand doors, once a symbol of untouchable power, collapsed inward with a deafening crash. Through the rising dust came more roaring green figures.

They were Ork Boyz with Rokkit Packs on their backs! Hordes of them poured through the Palace's main entrance and side corridors like a burst dam.

They came in overwhelming numbers, brandishing crude but deadly weapons. Their thunderous cries of "Waaagh!" filled the vast Hall in an instant.

Their stench, wild roars, and pounding footsteps merged into a suffocating din that drowned out the dying nobles' cries and the scattered gunfire of those still resisting.

General Bernardo stood with his back against a cold stone pillar, every shot from his Laspistol steady and deliberate.

A ruby-red beam cut through the chaos and struck an Ork assault trooper hovering outside a shattered window on a Rokkit Pack, just as it prepared to charge in.

The beam entered through its eye socket and blew a bowl-sized hole in the back of its head.

Its massive green body went limp and tumbled down.

But individual courage meant little against a tide of enemies.

The Laspistol's power cell soon ran low, sounding a warning beep.

Bernardo swiftly replaced it and scanned the battlefield.

He saw the Ork Boyz hunting down unarmed nobles and attendants, smashing ornate decorations and soaking priceless carpets with blood and filth.

He tried to organize a defense, but the situation was already out of control.

"Quick! Hold them back! Defend the doors!" the general shouted to anyone who might hear him, but his orders were powerless amid the chaos.

Then a cry unlike the Orks' roars came from deep within the Palace.

They were House Horace's private soldiers. After the initial chaos and losses, a squad leader had finally rallied them and led them out through the inner hall passage.

There were perhaps twenty or thirty of them, dressed in matching scarlet uniforms and carrying new Lasguns. They formed something resembling a firing line.

"Fire! For the family!" the squad leader screamed.

Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!

Lasgun beams poured toward the Orks surging through the doors like red rain.

These private soldiers were well equipped, and their training seemed far superior to that of ordinary conscripts.

The searing beams dropped seven or eight Ork Boyz at the front of the charge.

The Orks behind them were briefly pinned at the entrance. Using their comrades' bodies and the fallen doors for cover, they traded fire with the private soldiers.

Lasgun beams and crude Ork bullets crossed in the air, leaving scorch marks and bullet holes across the Hall's walls and pillars.

The sudden, effective resistance stalled the Ork assault.

A brief firefight settled into a stalemate at the center of the chaotic Hall.

Baron Horace had been curled beneath a heavy solid-wood conference table. When he heard his family's soldiers shouting and firing, a sliver of hope rose through his terror.

He peered cautiously through a gap beneath the table and saw that his soldiers seemed to have brought the entrance under control.

A rush of relief swept over him, followed by a renewed sense of superiority.

"Yes! Yes, just like that! Kill those green beasts!" he whispered excitedly, struggling to crawl out from beneath the table.

He even straightened his disheveled, dust-covered silk formalwear, trying to recover some trace of noble dignity.

Perhaps... perhaps things weren't so bad? If the family's soldiers could hold their ground until more reinforcements arrived...

But before that fantasy could take shape, destruction descended in a far more direct and brutal form.

BOOM!

A deeper, far louder crash than any Rokkit Pack impact came from the Palace's vaulted ceiling, adorned with magnificent murals and golden reliefs!

The enormous crystal chandelier at its center, a symbol of House Horace's glory, shattered and fell along with a great section of the surrounding structure, as though struck by an invisible hammer!

Great chunks of stone, metal framing, and crystal shards rained down like meteors!

Amid the collapse, an unimaginably huge green figure with an outlandish Rokkit Pack belching black smoke and flame crashed into the center of the Hall alongside the falling rubble!

The shock wave from its landing hurled more than a dozen firing soldiers off their feet.

Worse, the figure had adjusted its landing. Its heavy feet and the wreckage of its Rokkit Pack came down squarely on the densest cluster of private soldiers.

SPLAT!

CRASH!

They had no time even to scream. There came only a sickening succession of sounds as flesh, bone, and metal armor were crushed and ground apart.

Before Baron Horace's eyes, more than a dozen elite soldiers and their brand-new equipment became an unrecognizable spray of blood and pulp, mixed with scraps of scarlet cloth and metal!

In an instant, the thick stench of blood burst through the hall.

"Waaaaaaagh!"

A savage war cry erupted from the massive green figure, loud enough to rupture eardrums and drown out every gunshot and explosion.

As the dust settled, its true form emerged: an Ork Warboss nearly three meters tall, its muscles knotted like a mountain of iron!

It wore "armor" crudely assembled from thick steel plates and oversized rivets. On its left arm was an enormous steel Power Klaw that glimmered with dangerous energy!

The terrifying giant merely stood there, yet the air seemed to chill beneath the savage, destructive force it radiated throughout the Hall.

Its small, brutal eyes swept the hall and settled on the private soldiers in conspicuous scarlet uniforms who were still trying to resist.

"Stinkin' runts! Yer in my way!" the Ork Warboss growled, its voice rasping like sandpaper.

Then it moved.

Its seemingly cumbersome body exploded into motion with astonishing speed.

Its huge Power Klaw swept out, dragging a vicious gust in its wake.

The nearest soldiers had no time to react. Their Lasguns and bodies were sliced into bloody pieces as easily as butter beneath a hot knife!

The Power Klaw's energy field skimmed the floor, leaving a charred furrow behind.

"Damn it!" Bernardo watched the disaster unfold in a flash, his heart sinking.

The sliver of hope brought by the soldiers' counterattack was crushed.

This Ork Warboss was far stronger than an ordinary Ork. Neither the private soldiers nor his little pistol could deal with it.

His survival instinct and duty as a soldier drove him to act.

With a hard shove, he overturned a heavy conference table made of costly wood.

It hit the floor with a crash, providing makeshift cover.

Bernardo lunged toward a pool of blood where a private soldier had just been killed by a stray shot. He picked up the man's new Lasgun and quickly checked its power cell. Finding it full, he aimed at the Ork Warboss.

The Ork Warboss had begun a massacre. It charged into the remaining soldiers, each sweep of its Power Klaw sending blood flying.

Their Lasgun beams left only faint scorch marks on its heavy iron armor, doing no meaningful damage.

Every attack the Ork Warboss made, however, was fatal.

Half-kneeling behind the overturned table, Bernardo took a deep breath and steadied himself.

He raised the Lasgun and fired carefully aimed shots rather than spraying wildly.

Ruby-red beams struck at the Ork Warboss's joints, where its heavy armor offered no protection.

Sizzle! Sizzle!

The beams hit the junction of its shoulder and neck, leaving clear burns. Its green skin charred and gave off wisps of smoke.

The shots were not enough to seriously wound it, but the pain caught its attention.

The Ork Warboss whipped its head around. Its small, vicious eyes locked onto Bernardo behind the overturned table.

It recognized the "runt" who had dared attack it.

The repeated stings had thoroughly enraged the Ork Warboss.

"Waaagh! Stinkin' runt!" It abandoned its pursuit of the fleeing soldiers and pointed its huge Power Klaw at Bernardo. "Ya dared hurt me! I'll tear ya to bits! Smash ya into paste!"

It broke into a charge toward Bernardo like a heavy tank gathering speed.

Each step made the floor tremble. In its blood-red eyes remained nothing but the desire to kill Bernardo.