This was an utterly savage meat grinder of a battle that defied all reason, one in which even the laws of physics screamed in agony.
The skies of the Warp had turned a nauseating dark red. That was no nebula's glow, but tangible fury condensed purely from the lust for slaughter.
"For the Big Boss! Blast those red-skinned losers to bits!"
Sharpfang's cracked, grating voice rang across the entire defensive line through a makeshift loudspeaker. He sat inside a "Scrap Gargant" forcibly cobbled together from countless plates of scrapped Helbrute armour, tracks from Khorne's brass chariots, and even a few Greater Daemon leg bones.
Amid the piercing grind of gears, the Mega Ork Disintegration Beam Cannon mounted on the Gargant's shoulder, heavily modified by Big Mek Ghazghk, began charging furiously. Ghostly green light gathered at its muzzle, then became a bucket-thick beam that swept straight into the legions of Khorne surging toward them like a red tsunami.
Hiss-!
There was no explosion, no flash of fire. Wherever the green light swept, more than a dozen Bloodletters with gaping, bloodthirsty maws and swinging Hellblades instantly disintegrated into the most fundamental subatomic dust. A Vacuum Zone of absolute emptiness appeared out of nowhere in that area.
But it meant nothing.
For Khorne's followers, the words "death" and "fear" had been erased from their dictionaries the moment they offered skulls to the Blood God. The Vacuum Zone lasted less than half a second before the oncoming Bloodletters and Bloodcrusher Knights riding Bloodcrushers filled the gap like floodwaters bursting through a dam.
"Fire! Keep firing! I reckon this junk gun ain't overheated yet!" Millions of Gretchin souls crouched behind breastworks piled from Daemon corpses, pulling the triggers of their weapons.
Explosions, screams, and manic laughter wove together into an eardrum-shattering symphony.
At the heart