Wot da zog is dis?
Hakk Fang was completely dumbfounded.
Different Ork Warbosses possessed distinct abilities and tactical inclinations depending on the specific Greenskin Clan they hailed from.
Goff Warbosses worshipped raw strength and excelled in brutal lee duels; Deathskulls Warbosses loved kustomizing machines and heavily favored shooty bitz; Evil Sunz Warbosses boasted significantly enhanced speed and reflexes, and so on.
As a tactically minded Warboss of the Blood Axe Clan, Hakk Fang was not a brainless brute like the leaders of other clans. He possessed more than enough intellect to accurately judge basic disparities in strength.
krump dis humie? Can I actually win?
He slowly raised his head, estimating the terrifying altitude from which this humie had just dropped, and then lowered his gaze to assess the catastrophic structural damage inflicted upon the thick armor plating directly beneath the humie's feet.
One second later, Hakk Fang of the Blood Axes arrived at an imdiate conclusion.
I am absolutely zogged!
Although the humie standing before him looked entirely ordinary—small, fragile, exceedingly weak, and not Waaagh! in the slightest...
...Hakk Fang had absolutely no doubt that if a fight actually broke out, the odds between him and this humie were a strict one-to-nine split.
—Specifically aning it would take the humie exactly one second to chop his massive body into nine pieces.
Unfortunately, the Ork Boyz swarming below completely lacked Hakk Fang's level of intellect.
Their ugly faces lit up, eyes bulging as they spotted Rowan suddenly appearing atop the Gargant, and they began roaring in ecstatic excitent.
A duel! A humie just challenged da Boss for his spot! Right proppa excitin'! Gettin' to see da Boss actually fight, even if we die, it's worth da teef!
Not a single Ork Boy suspected that Hakk Fang might lose.
One only needed to look at the massive disparity in their physical sizes: Dat humie is tiny and scrawny, looks like he could only bully a Grot! But our Warboss is massive and hulkin', built like a zoggin' mountain!
According to the fundantal Ork philosophy of "bigger is stronger," the outco was already predetermined.
So Boyz even dropped their weapons on the spot, gathering around to wager Ork currency—teeth—betting on exactly how many seconds the humie would last before getting squished.
Under the expectant gazes of the entire Ork horde gathered beneath the Gargant, Hakk Fang, the Blood Axe Warboss, was sweating bullets.
Rowan, on the other hand, remained perfectly serene.
His previous maneuver had been quite simple.
Upon sensing the drop pod's retro-rockets engage and its velocity instantaneously halting, Rowan decisively phased through the hull to exit the cabin. Simultaneously engaging his will to maintain active optical camouflage, he executed a mid-air acceleration, arriving directly beside the Ork Warboss entirely undetected.
As a Level 3 Reality Bender, Rowan could safely declare that this battle was already over before it began.
The life or death of this Ork rested entirely upon a single thought.
However...
Rowan narrowed his eyes. This Warboss is actually sowhat interesting.
He could perceive that a rather potent energy field was coalescing around the Greenskin standing before him.
The energy field boasted a significant power level. Formless and immaterial, it was comprehensively enhancing its host's physical attributes. It even possessed certain idealistic, warp-based properties, granting it a marginal degree of resistance against reality bending.
This imdiately piqued Rowan's interest.
He pondered thoughtfully. This must be the Orks' Waaagh! Field, correct?
The heavily armored Nob he encountered previously seed to possess a trace of it as well, but compared to the Warboss—the supre overlord of every Greenskin on this entire planet—it was like comparing a candle to a raging bonfire. The Nob's energy level was so minuscule that Rowan had simply ignored it.
As for now...
He instantly made up his mind: Such a wondrous treasure rightfully belongs to !
Watching the humie simply stand there motionless, Hakk Fang waited for a mont before he could no longer endure waiting for his inevitable doom.
No! I gotta fight back right zoggin' now!
Turning and fleeing now would only result in a slow death, and the Boyz' morale would instantaneously shatter.
Seizing the initiative and attacking might just afford him a sliver of a chance!
He roared, letting out a deafening bellow, and lunged at Rowan.
His massive body surged forward, the chanical power klaw on his arm erupting with a violent hum as a disruption field wreathed its serrated blades.
In a split second, his colossal fra exploded with speeds that entirely defied logic, his massive chanical power klaw swiping directly toward Rowan's head.
However, this speed could only be described as woefully lacking.
Rowan even deliberately suppressed his own speed, ensuring the Ork Boyz below could see everything with crystal clarity. He took a light step back. The power klaw swept past his face, failing to harm even a single hair on his head.
Subsequently, exploiting the brief microsecond window before the Warboss could launch a second strike, Rowan flattened his right hand into an open palm. He swung his arm in a wide half-circle through the air, his gaze locking maliciously onto Hakk Fang's ugly, bestial face.
Witnessing this, Hakk Fang's pupils violently contracted.
He had already deduced exactly what this humie was about to do.
No! No! NO! Ya can't zoggin' do dat! An Ork can be krumped, but neva humiliated!
But it was utterly futile. In this universe, there was no universal law stating that being prepared guaranteed you could avoid a terrible outco.
Under the terrified gazes of the Ork Boyz—who had suddenly and inexplicably fallen dead silent—Rowan's palm viciously descended.
SMACK!!!
Augnted by his reality-bending dominion, Rowan's palm—now as impossibly dense as adamantium—made violent contact with Hakk Fang's green skin. The catastrophic kinetic impact snapped the Warboss's head violently to the side. Blood sprayed outward, and shattered fangs were violently spat across the deck.
Even with the Waaagh! Field's reinforcent granting him a constitution far surpassing an ordinary Ork, the Warboss was left entirely dizzy and disoriented by the brutal slap, temporarily incapable of mounting any effective counter-attack.
It seems to be having an effect, Rowan focused his senses slightly.
He could clearly perceive that due to this singular, humiliating strike, the previously stable and robust Waaagh! Field enveloping Hakk Fang had begun to diffuse and violently fluctuate. It was no longer structurally sound.
The power of the Ork Gestalt Field (the "Wot I Fink" field) was truly wondrous.
When a massive concentration of Orks collectively believed sothing would happen—such as painting a Trukk red making it go faster, or painting a shoota blue making it luckier—then, no matter how utterly devoid of logic it was, that phenonon would actually manifest into reality.
Naturally, this specific trait could sotis be exploited by their enemies.
In the future, a certain Commissar would install a laser-emitting bionic eye. Because the Greenskins were so deeply terrified of the Commissar's legendary combat record, they believed he could kill with a re glance. Consequently, the bionic eye's laser—which originally possessed barely enough wattage to light a lho-stick—had its lethality amplified by the Orks' own belief to the point where it could genuinely incinerate a Greenskin with a single stare.
Conversely, when a massive concentration of Orks began to doubt or waver, their Waaagh! Field would dissipate accordingly.
At this very mont, Rowan intended to utilize the most brutally humiliating, hyper-violent actions possible to entirely shatter the Greenskins' absolute faith in Hakk Fang's supremacy.
Simply killing him outright wasn't impossible, but Rowan feared that doing so would cause the residual Waaagh! Field to instantaneously and violently disperse, rendering it incomplete for harvesting.
It appeared he needed to deploy a far more psychologically devastating reality check. He needed to force the Ork Boyz to collectively abandon their delusions, causing them to subconsciously withdraw the Waaagh! Field from Hakk Fang in unison.
Only then would Rowan have the operational window to manipulate and harvest it.
However, a question arose.
For the Greenskins—a species so utterly addicted to warfare that they possessed zero fear of death—what exact outco was fundantally the most unacceptable?
After a brief mont of ntal deliberation, a lightning bolt of inspiration struck him.
A smirk crept onto Rowan's face.
Oh? I have an idea.
He shifted his gaze back to Hakk Fang, looking the massive Warboss up and down, seemingly evaluating his physical structure.
Feeling that practically tangible, piercing gaze sweep over his body, the dizzy Hakk Fang shuddered violently. Even his blood-engorged, concussed brain inexplicably cleared up a few degrees.
He had a terrifying premonition: if he didn't make a decision imdiately, what he was about to endure would be infinitely more horrifying than re death.
Maybe I should just krump self right now?
However, in that brief microsecond of hesitation, Hakk Fang lost his final window of opportunity.
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