Grog Bonecrusha's roars mingled with the deathly hum of the Nightbringer's Scythe slicing through reality, forming a symphony of destruction.
Every collision between the Phase Sword fragment wreathed in raging WAAAGH! energy and that pure concept of death erupted in blinding flashes and energy ripples that tore through space.
Grog's enormous body kept swelling and regenerating with every head-on clash, the ancient runes on his skin growing ever clearer. Yet each impact made his bones groan under the unbearable strain, and wherever the death energy on the C'tan's scythe grazed him, it left withered, charred scars that refused to heal.
Within the crimson glow of his eyes, that trace of cunning caution was almost drowned by primal fury, leaving only a hysterical hunger for victory.
"Me Kunnin' says... you can't cut me!"
Bonecrusha roared, taking a blow from the spectral Scythe squarely on his shoulder. The flesh on half his body instantly withered and carbonized, only to regenerate wildly beneath the seething green light of the WAAAGH.
Seizing the opportunity, he drove his broken Phase Blade viciously into the "body" beneath the Nightbringer's robes. As the energy blade's tip touched that void, a violent annihilation reaction erupted, briefly making the Nightbringer shard's spectral form waver!
That insignificant "success" was like a shot of adrenaline for the frenzied Ork Boyz.
"Da Boss stabbed dat bag o' bones!"
"WAAAAAGH! Da Boss is da strongest! Tear it apart!"
The Orks forgot their fear, brandishing their weapons and roaring loud enough to shake the heavens. Some even charged mindlessly toward the edge of the fighting, trying to scrape the Nightbringer's enormous spectral form with weapons carrying faint traces of WAAAGH! energy. Naturally, they were reduced to ash in an instant.
Yet this frenzy, driven purely by "me Kunnin' says da Boss can win," invisibly