Above the sky, above the swarms of Ork fighters, above the billowing black smoke, a vast rift tore open in the Empyrean.
More Nurgle Daemons and Orks appeared. Countless Orks had a "brainwave"-I reckon there's a big fight over there-and steered their clanking wrecks of warships toward it. The Daemons answered the Grandfather's summons, raining down onto the battlefield.
The slaughter on the ground had already piled corpses into small hills. The sky platform was falling, and the Sky Big Boss knelt on the ground, clutching his belly. A Painboy approached with a Big Saw over his shoulder, but before he could get close, a foul stench of rot hit him.
The Gretchin screamed and fled as soon as they smelled it.
The bodyguard Big Bosses had been torn apart by Evan's surging strength at the start of the battle. Now, as the clan bosses rushing forward gathered around the Sky Big Boss, the Waaagh energy field sensed his weakness, and thoughts of betrayal sprang up.
Of course, none of that had anything to do with Evan anymore.
He had already left the battlefield and fought his way into an Ork warship amid the chaotic skies.
The captain of the Big Iron Head was a powerful Ork who loved flying hunks of iron belching black smoke and gun barrels spitting fire. As he ordered the Boyz to shoot at the Daemon hordes below, Evan quietly appeared on his bridge.
"Duel!" Evan declared in the Ork language.
The Ork did not understand why this strange thing before him could speak their language, but his warlike genes told him he would get a good fight today.
No Ork would refuse an invitation to a duel.
A Gretchin crept up behind Evan, hoping to steal a few interesting bits from his Power Armor