After more than ten minutes of fighting, Vorda had only slain a hundred or so Ork Boyz. His killing rate was far lower than before.
Dissatisfaction with his killing rate fed Vorda's growing rage. An Ork Killa Kan charged up to him, swinging the Chainsaw on one of its mechanical arms at his head.
Vorda once again met it head-on without dodging. This Chainsaw was nothing like the drill from before. That drill had only broken his skin, but this Chainsaw was a different matter entirely.
At first, Vorda's head held up, but searing pain soon bored into his skull. By the time he dodged away from the pain, a chunk of his skull had already been torn off.
The Killa Kan tried to press its advantage, only to be set ablaze by a burst of fire.
Vorda spread the daemonic wings on his back and took flight. Flames beneath his wings ignited a vast swathe of the battlefield. A Daemon's power was hardly limited to physical strength.
Vorda had barely enjoyed the satisfaction of looking down on the Greenskins below when more than a dozen missiles struck him, trailing long plumes of flame. Taking to the sky in the middle of a melee often made one the perfect target.
"You damned savages! Die!" Battered and filthy, Vorda furiously unleashed the blessed power within him. Fire and destructive force spread outward in a hemisphere, reducing countless Orks and pieces of equipment to ash.
Vorda smiled happily at the circular crater he had burned into the ground, though his smile was hideous and chilling. His power had scorched a deep pit into the earth, as though a meteor had struck it. Countless Orks had died in the attack.
"Hahahaha!" Vorda laughed uproariously.
Suddenly, a Lance struck him hard, blasting him down