Hordes of Boys were slaughtered by the metal arms behind the Void Dragon. Those formidable limbs whipped through the air like an impassable storm of steel.
Another layer of irregular metal fragments rose from the Void Dragon's surface and shot toward the onrushing tide of Orks.
Metal pellets swept across the battlefield, shredding countless Orks into rags. Where the fire was heaviest, the Greenskins were reduced to clouds of blood.
For a moment, the entire battlefield was cleared. Hovering in the air, the Void Dragon looked down upon the Greenskins who had suffered such devastating losses.
Every surviving Ork was among the strongest of their kind, one of the tallest, toughest Bosses. Among them stood Duncehead, his Power Klaw raised.
The Shard of the Void Dragon gazed arrogantly upon these living creatures. He raised his hand, and the scrap metal assembled into weapons: Gatling guns, Large-Caliber Sniper Rifles, melta weapons, heavy Plasma Guns-everything imaginable.
Machines were his divine authority. Any mechanical creation that had ever existed could be fashioned with a single thought, then sent to annihilate the enemies before him with another.
Faced with this sight, not one of the surviving Ork Bosses backed down, even with the bodies of so many of their kin lying at their feet, their blood staining the wreckage on the ground crimson.
This was the terror of death.
Death? Were Greenskins afraid of death?! Tens of millions of years ago, their ancestors had defeated many gods through courage and strength. Some of those gods had been far more powerful than this tiny C'tan Shard.
Now, history was merely repeating itself.
The Greenskins led by Duncehead knew nothing of that history, but the Void Dragon did. One of his manifestations had once wielded his authority in battle against a legion of Krork Orks.
That