Please Call Me a Psyker Bane

Guilliman wielded his psychic light sword, clashing and parrying again and again against the Ork warlord's gravity hammer, unleashing violent shockwaves of energy.

The light sword extending from the Sincere Dagger was far longer than what he was accustomed to, reaching roughly four meters in length.

Yet the primarch completely adapted to this new weapon in an extremely short time, adjusting his combat techniques to suit its changes.

The Lord of Ultramar's swordsmanship ranked among the best of his primarch brothers.

Beautiful yet deadly blossoms of sword-light bloomed in Guilliman's hands. With every collision of weapons, several glaring cracks appeared on the gravity hammer.

In only a few breaths, Zack's weapon was already covered in fractures, looking as though it might collapse at any moment.

Left with no choice, he tossed it behind him and switched to fighting with his phase power claws.

The difference between the two weapons was that the gravity hammer relied on the power of Orky thinkin' to fundamentally distort mass effects.

Once the power of Orky thinkin' failed, the gravity hammer would immediately revert to its original mass.

And with that terrifying weight, even an Ork warlord could not lift it through physical strength alone.

Though the phase power claws used the power of Orky thinkin' to enhance their damage, they could still retain their original state even without it.

Zack's eyes were filled with shock and unease as he looked at Guilliman.

Suddenly, the Ork warlord spoke in High Gothic.

"You blue big 'un, you've been hiding your psychic powers all this time? That's just too sneaky!"

"Dirty! Dirty! You busted me beloved gravity hammer!"

Zack was more heartbroken than if his own body had been blown apart. With his regenerative ability, a few flesh wounds would heal quickly enough.

But his weapon was