Boom!!!
It was like a cast-iron bell weighing thousands of pounds had been struck by a battering ram.
The power klaw, still spewing black machine oil and electric sparks, was raised high over Rod’s head.
Then, like a giant iron hammer, it smashed down hard onto the Ork Nob’s rivet-covered helmet.
Even from dozens of meters away, the terrifying vibration from that strike could be felt.
The two-meter-tall green giant was actually forced to its knees in the muddy water by that blow.
But this was only the beginning.
Rod straddled the monster’s chest, his legs clamping tightly around that broad, door-like torso.
His eyes were frighteningly hollow, and the power klaw in his hands rose high again.
Then fell hard.
Boom!
The second strike.
This time, the Ork Nob’s head sank sharply, and a horrifying dent appeared in that seemingly indestructible helmet.
Boom!
The third strike.
The Ork Nob could no longer even scream.
Its small orange eyes, once filled with brutality and killing intent, were now unfocused and scattered.
It swung its arms, trying to pull this “flea” off its body, but under the stomp of Rod’s military boots covered in blood and mud, its resistance looked so powerless.
For one strange moment, the entire battlefield fell silent.
Whether it was the Ork Boyz still fighting in the trench, or the Astra Militarum soldiers who had been waiting to die…
Everyone stopped moving.
Every gaze locked onto the dirt slope where the two stood.
They watched a scene that seemed as if it should only appear in the grand murals of an Ecclesiarchy cathedral.
A mortal.
A mortal in broken flak armor, so thin his ribs could almost be seen, was sitting atop a killing machine and splitting that beast’s skull open in the most primitive and brutal way possible.
Each dull impact no longer struck only the helmet.
It struck every heart.
It shattered the courage of the Orks.
It awakened the numb souls of mankind.
Boom!!
Crack!!
The final blow.
That power klaw, which had been cobbled together from parts and lacked the protection of a Waaagh field, finally could not withstand such frenzied impacts.
With a piercing shriek of breaking metal, the massive hydraulic claw completely disintegrated, scattering into countless sharp fragments.
And the Ork Nob…
That thick helmet it had been so proud of finally crumpled completely like a flattened can.
Several streams of thick red-green fluid, viscous as paste, gurgled out from the cracks in the severely deformed helmet, instantly staining the iron armor across its chest.
Its body convulsed violently once.
Then it stopped moving entirely.
[Melee Combat Experience +50]
[Melee Combat Level Up!
Current Level: LV2]
[Strength Experience +100]
[Strength Level Up!
Current Level: LV4]
The light screen flickered across his retina.
Rod gasped heavily, his chest rising and falling violently.
Sweat mixed with blood dripped from the tip of his nose.
He threw away the scrap metal in his hand, now reduced to only a grip.
Bracing both hands on his knees, he slowly straightened himself bit by bit from atop the massive corpse.
Crack, crack, crack…
A teeth-aching series of bone pops came from inside his body.
The bodily reconstruction brought by LV4 Strength was forcibly adapting him to this overloaded battle.
He bent down.
His hand, covered in blood and torn flesh, grabbed the large-caliber shoota that had rolled into the muddy water.
It was the Ork Nob’s weapon, heavy as a block of cement.
Rod turned around.
His face, covered in blood and filth with only a pair of bloodshot black eyes visible, slowly swept across the battlefield.
On the left were dozens of Greenskins standing frozen with choppas in their hands, too afraid to step forward.
On the right were just as many Astra Militarum comrades, their faces covered in mud and their eyes filled with disbelief.
Rod took a deep breath.
His lungs burned with pain.
“Kill!”
A roar.
This voice was not as loud as an Ork’s, nor did it carry any special tone.
It was only an outburst after pressure had been compressed to its limit.
But in that instant…
A visible translucent ripple suddenly spread outward from Rod.
This was not magic.
Nor was it psychic power.
It was pure presence.
The aura of an apex predator who had just torn apart an Ork Nob with his bare hands.
The Greenskins swept by that ripple all took one step back.
The green glow in their eyes dimmed.
The Waaagh energy field carved into their very genes was forcibly suppressed and extinguished in that moment.
Not one Ork dared open its mouth and shout again.
As for the Astra Militarum soldiers swept by the ripple…
Their trembling hands suddenly steadied.
Their once-clouded eyes suddenly became clear.
[Skill Unlocked: War Cry LV1]
[Current Experience: 5/50]
“For the Emperor!!”
“The God-Emperor’s blessed one!
He is our Emperor’s Chosen!”
“Kill them all!!!”
No one knew who started it.
Perhaps it was a second lieutenant.
Perhaps it was only an ordinary private.
But that no longer mattered.
At that moment, morale exploded like a barrel of ignited promethium.
The counterattack began.
The scattered las-beams instantly turned into a dense storm of fire.
The soldiers who had been retreating raised their bayonets with furious roars and charged back toward the Orks whose morale had collapsed.
As for Rod…
He did not care what was happening behind him.
He raised the huge shoota and pulled the trigger.
Click.
An awkward empty sound came from the chamber.
No flame.
No bullets.
As expected, this pile of junk was useless once it left an Ork’s Waaagh energy.
“Tch.”
Rod could not even be bothered to fix it.
He gripped the barrel in reverse and simply used it as a mace.
Charge.
Wherever Rod passed, there were only broken bones and splashing green blood.
He tirelessly swung that heavy weapon, repeating the motions of smashing, sweeping, and ramming.
Even as the muscle fibers in his arms screamed.
Even as the terrifying wounds torn open from wrestling the Nob earlier continued to spurt blood.
He could not stop.
Until…
There was no longer even a trace of green in his vision.
Until there was not a single enemy still standing around him.
“Hah…
hah…”
Rod slowly stopped.
The shoota in his hands had long since bent into a strange L shape.
He stood atop a small hill of Ork corpses and looked around blankly.
Is it over?
The rage that had supported him all this time, the adrenaline that made him forget pain and fear, rapidly vanished like a retreating tide.
What followed was fatigue and agony that surged in like a tsunami.
Everything before his eyes began to double, and the world started spinning quickly.
Rod’s body fell backward.
He did not fall into the mud.
Several pairs of rough hands reached out at the same time.
They steadily caught Rod’s falling body.
Several weathered Astra Militarum veterans carefully lifted Rod flat, as if carrying a sacred relic.
“Easy!
Damn it, easy!”
“Medic!
Quick!
To the medical tent!”
“Hold on, brother…
Hold on…”
Rod’s vision was already blurred.
Before he could see those indistinct faces clearly, his eyelids grew heavy as lead.
The world sank into darkness.