Warhammer [389-391] (Patreon)

Chapter 389:

“A crown that can control Tyranids!”

“That’s right, my lord. After we rescued an Ork planet, a Big Mek there told me that he’d created a special crown.

It works wonders on the Tyranids—put it on, and you’ll be able to control the Tyranids with your own power,” Gromm explained.

Upon learning about this crown, he didn’t hesitate to come report to his master. A crown capable of controlling the Tyranids must be incredibly valuable!

Rhodes nodded at his words. During the Octarius War, there was indeed such a miraculous Ork crown—and it was also made by a top-tier Big Mek of the Orks, this bugged-out race.

The Ork tribes used this miraculous crown to repel the Tyranids multiple times, even provoking human factions to fight over it.

Inquisitor Kryptman led his Deathwatch forces to snatch this special crown, intending to use it to counter the Tyranids.

This sparked a series of events, eventually drawing in the forces of Chaos and the Eldar as well.

In the Octarius sector, besides the Ork Empire, there was also a hidden Eldar world.

After Inquisitor Kryptman obtained the crown, he conducted all kinds of research but found no real effect.

This crown only works when worn by Orks—humans simply cannot comprehend Ork tech. Humans couldn’t figure out how this special crown worked at all. This weapon, vital for Orks to fight Tyranids, was utterly useless in human hands.

Still, the human Inquisitor clung to it like a final lifeline, conducting mad experiments—he ended up losing all the Battle Sisters and Deathwatch Marines he brought.

In the end, the war devolved into a four-way brawl: Orks, Tyranids, humans, and Eldar.

The Eldar wanted to escape the planet, the humans wanted to bring the crown back behind the unbreakable lines of the Imperium for study, the Orks wanted it back, and the Tyranids just wanted to destroy it.

By the end, the human forces were almost entirely wiped out, with only a few survivors escaping, and the miraculous crown vanished without a trace.

But that major event was supposed to happen after the first phase of the Indomitus Crusade, more than a decade later. Yet here, at this point in time—the crown has already been made? Is this why the Orks were able to fight the Tyranids for decades in Octarius?

Maybe, given more time, these Orks, with all their buffs, might really overturn the Tyranids.

“Tell me about this crown’s function, and how you got it,” Rhodes asked.

“After we took the planet, the surviving Orks there submitted to my forces, and as you instructed, I let them drink my blood.

A Big Mek among them presented this crown to me as his creation, showing me how it works.

Only Orks can use it—it requires strong psychic energy to wield, can disrupt the Tyranid synapse network within an area, and forcibly control some of them, but not for long.

And the crown is miraculous—no matter where it is, we Orks can sense it. It feels like it was made just to fight the Tyranids, and only we Orks can use it,” Gromm explained in detail to Rhodes.

“I see. Do you have the crown now?” Rhodes asked.

“Of course, great master. As soon as I got it, I brought it to you.” Gromm produced a pure green crown engraved with strange patterns for Rhodes.

Ork technology is truly bizarre—what they make is completely unusable by other races. In anyone else’s hands, it’s just scrap metal; this crown is no exception.

In Ork hands, it’s amazing—it can control Tyranids, disrupt their synapse signals, and cause chaos; but for humans or Eldar, it’s just a worthless crown.

“Master, try it on!” Gromm offered the green crown to Rhodes like a treasure.

“No need. Only you Orks can use it, and I doubt it would do anything for me.

Besides, I don’t like wearing a green crown,” Rhodes replied, rejecting the dark green crown.

If you gave me a golden crown, maybe! But such a big green crown? You want me to wear that? What’s that supposed to mean, are you kidding me?

“Is the color wrong? We Orks love green, but if you want, I can dye it gold or purple, however you like.

Other races can’t use it, but you’re different—maybe you can use it to control those Tyranids,” Gromm offered.

“If I’m not mistaken, this crown can’t completely control the Tyranids—just temporary control. And it can’t control synapse creatures, only disrupt their signals, right?” Rhodes asked.

To be honest, with Rhodes’s current psychic power, he could easily control lower-level Tyranid organisms, but for Hive Tyrants, Zoanthropes, or Norn Queens, it’s not possible!

This crown is only for temporary control, not permanent. It has strategic value, but not that much for Rhodes.

“That’s right, master! But the Big Mek who gave it to me said, as long as the Ork Warboss’s will is strong enough, with this crown,

it can disrupt the synapse network of an entire planet’s Tyranids at max. Used well, it could wipe out all Tyranids on a planet very quickly,” Gromm said.

“Frankly, the Big Mek is more valuable than the crown itself. You didn’t hurt him, right?” Rhodes asked.

Talent should always be recruited. Orks are different from Tyranids—this Big Mek who invented a crown to disrupt Tyranid synapses is a technical genius.

Rhodes could easily give him a spot in the Battlenizer and turn him into a super-Ork.

“No, master. I also thought he was talented, so I kept him in my army,” Gromm replied.

“Good! Since this crown can control Tyranids, make sure every Ork Warboss under your command gets one—have him mass-produce them,” Rhodes ordered.

Such a good thing ought to be made in quantity. Humans can’t use it, but if Orks can, that’s enough. With these, Rhodes can destroy Tyranid hive ships in space, and his Ork armies on the ground can block synapse signals, causing Tyranid swarms to lose control for faster extermination.

“Master, I’ve already asked him. He said he made this crown by accident—mass production is basically impossible. If he could, he’d have already made tons for all the Ork Warbosses,” Gromm reported.

If this could be mass-produced, it would change the whole war!

“Bring that Big Mek to see me. Soon, he’ll be your colleague,” Rhodes said.

He already had a Necron researcher—adding an Ork technical expert was no problem.

Ork engineers, especially Big Meks, are hopeless if you ask them for normal weapons, but tell them to invent something bizarre, and they’re better than anyone—sometimes even miraculous.

Because when Orks research tech, they never talk science—only mysticism and the absurd.

“Understood, master! I’ll bring him now!” Gromm nodded to Rhodes, used his teleport skill, and vanished from Rhodes’s ship.

“What a truly miraculous race, master. Even in my old universe, if left to develop, they’d be a headache,” Tartarus commented, walking up to Rhodes.

Their greatest strength is constant evolution.

Ork tribes can easily master this. In the future, even the Land of Light or other top civilizations will find them troublesome.

A race that treats fighting as entertainment is the most annoying—and their reproduction rate is off the charts.

“Master, if you’re going to recruit an Ork scientist, I suggest you give him his own planet—I don’t want to live with him,” said Zett, who knew Orks well.

Ork Big Meks often cause huge explosions in their research, blowing off their own limbs is just daily routine.

Chapter 390:

In charge of a whole Ork planet, Zett knew just how nasty and troublesome the Painboyz and Big Meks could be.

They’d make a tin can, chop off an Ork’s limbs, and stuff him inside—an Ork-in-a-can.

Or stick a Grot inside. Their planes and missiles had no navigation systems—just a Snotling inside, whose job was to ride the torpedo straight at enemy flyers.

Treating the wounded was weird too—just cut off wherever it hurts and bolt on a machine part.

Orks have no real science—their inventions defy all logic.

Like assembling a laser gun from junk. To Zett, it’s just trash, less functional than a child’s toy. But in Ork hands, it fires a real laser cannon—powerful, too. If Zett tries to use it, it’s just a pile of junk, completely useless.

He could manage Orks but didn’t want to live with an Ork scientist. That meant never being safe, having to watch out for your leg being sawed off at night, or getting stuffed in some weird contraption.

“I get your concerns. But you’re the only Reionics here, and you have the Battlenizer, so only you can control this Big Mek,” Rhodes said.

No ordinary means can control Orks, as Zett knew. So, he had no choice—it was his burden to bear.

“Master, I can watch him, but can we give him his own lab?

I have a moon under my command, about the size of Earth’s moon.

Build him a space station there, give him some Orks—if he needs materials, just send me a list,” Zett suggested.

On a moon, he could do whatever he wanted—just don’t bother Zett.

“That’s fine, master. I heard Orks can build a powerful stellar weapon, bigger than your space fortress, called the Attack Moon,” said Mefilas.

After spending time with Orks, he’d learned a bit—Orks, once grown from spores, gain science knowledge and the ability to build sci-fi weapons by hand.

With enough numbers and resources, as the tribe grows and WAAAGH! energy increases,

they awaken more advanced weapon knowledge, like inherited memory.

Big Meks can make weapons humanity can’t—planet-sized at largest, at least as big as the moon.

They’ll hollow out a planet, load it with Ork junk machines, and then use WAAAGH! energy to pilot it through space, fighting everywhere.

In the Orks’ golden age, the Beast War recorded in Imperial archives, Orks used Attack Moons—stellar weapons.

These weapons caused the Imperium unimaginable damage—almost forcing Holy Terra to surrender.

Since Rhodes planned to fight the Tyranids, building one of these would be devastatingly effective.

“Attack Moon is possible, but gathering the resources won’t be easy. It’s not just about hollowing out a moon. Even the mightiest Ork Warboss in Octarius can’t build one now,” Rhodes said.

There hasn’t been one since the Beast War—just records from that era. Even the future flagship of Ghazghkull Thraka isn’t Attack Moon.

“No, master—technically it’s possible. All Ork high-tech weapon knowledge is stored in their genes. With Yapool power, we can awaken this knowledge.

Gromm is a good example—after becoming a Warboss, he gained lots of knowledge and battle experience, despite being only one year old,” said Tartarus.

With a glance, he could show a super lifeform millennia of future events—awakening genetic info is easy for him, and WAAAGH! energy is further boosted after super-beast upgrades.

“That works. Tartarus, bring Yapool here, let’s start the experiment,” Rhodes said.

Tartarus nodded, opened a golden portal, vanished, and soon returned with the Yapool and his giant super-beast machine.

After explaining, Yapool said he had enough energy for many upgrades; he’d only modified Bjorn lately due to lack of orders.

“Master, what materials should I use to modify this special Ork?” Yapool asked.

“Just make him stronger and smarter, and make sure the Battlenizer can control him. Focus on brainpower,” Rhodes said.

A scientist—so if his brain can be upgraded, even better.

Yapool looked at Mefilas.

“Why are you looking at me?” Mefilas felt a bad premonition.

“Everyone knows Mefilas brains are among the best in the universe. If master wants a smarter Ork, some Mephilasian brain is ideal,” Yapool chuckled.

With IQs of 10,000, their brains are top-tier—even compared to the Blue Ultra of the Land of Light.

Yapool had secretly studied Ork genes—they’re bugged. If fused with Mefilas brain, they’d make a powerful super-beast.

“Mefilas flesh is fine—I can heal with system functions, just costs some system points. But brain? No way,” Rhodes shook his head.

Sacrificing his best advisor’s brain for a Big Mek super-beast? No thanks.

“I can spare some flesh, but forget about my brain, Yapool!” Mefilas said.

“I was kidding. Just need some Mephilasian blood. Not as good as brain, but better than nothing,” Yapool replied.

“Just provide a blood sample. Yapool, use your gear to clone some flesh. Tartarus will speed up time for you,” Rhodes said.

Yapool bowed and left with Mefilas and Tartarus.

…

About an hour later, Gromm brought in an old Ork Big Mek, about 2.5 meters tall, clad in crimson armor with multiple mechanical limbs.

“Great Warboss, where are you taking me? Is this your secret base? Doesn’t look like Ork stuff,” the Big Mek frowned, seeing the sleek, luxurious ship.

Ork ships are made from asteroids and junk, with no structure—every Ork ship, dreadnought, and shoota is unique.

A streamlined, lavish ship like this isn’t Orky—Orks would just tear it down and make a junk ship out of it.

“Don’t ask so much. I’ll give you greater power—just remember that,” Gromm said.

Soon, they entered Rhodes’s fortress—guarded by Ork warriors outside, but inside was a human—tall, imposing, in crimson powered armor.

“Why is there a human here? A stinking shrimp?”

“Watch your mouth. The man before you is your future master—and my current master,” Gromm growled, tossing the Big Mek before Rhodes.

“No! Orks will never be slaves! Our kind will never bow to anyone!” the Big Mek roared.

He even glared at Gromm. Orks are the happiest, freest race—they do what they want, fight who they want, WAAAGH! wherever they want!

So, Orks are always free, never bowing to anyone but Gork and Mork, the true gods.

He thought this Warboss came to save Octarius, to vie for Big Boss, and lead the Orks to greater glory—a grand WAAAGH!

But he’d joined a human, calling him master?!

No one in the galaxy can enslave Orks.

“I’m not asking your opinion! The weak bow to the strong. If not for the master saving us, Octarius would be overrun by Tyranids. How long could you lot last?” Gromm retorted.

“Orks will never be slaves! Is your next line ‘unless you cover food and lodging’?” Rhodes grinned, recalling a meme from before his transmigration.

“Unless you cover food and lodging! And fighting! If we don’t fight every day, Orks get itchy!” the Big Mek replied.

“Actually, I have lots of Big Meks like you. But your crown that can disrupt and control Tyranids interests me. I recognize your talent, so I’ll grant you an honor—

I’ll give you greater power, turn you into a fifty-meter giant, boost your brain, and give you thousands—tens of thousands—of years of life,” Rhodes declared.

“Not interested! Why live so long? As long as there’s fighting, and strong foes, dying the next second is fine!” the Big Mek snorted.

Most races would pause at that, but only Orks would refuse outright.

Chapter 391:

Rhodes was showing rare mercy—he only helped the top talents. Among humans, he valued Belisarius Cawl; among Orks, this Big Mek who made the anti-Tyranid crown.

But instead, he just got a “why live so long?”

Classic Ork thinking!

Unlike other universes, Warhammer Orks love nothing more than WAAAGH!—than fighting!

“With the master, there’s endless fighting! We’re only fighting a small Tyranid force now—the real hive fleet hasn’t come yet! You’ll have plenty of chances.

And why should we Orks respect Gork and Mork?

They only have power in the Warp because of our worship. It’s the Orks who made them, not the other way around,” Gromm declared.

After his super-beast upgrade, Gromm was half a summoned monster for Rhodes, so he was highly resistant to Warp gods. Normally, Orks worship Gork and Mork. Claiming to be their prophet gets you respect from all Orks.

But Gromm and Rhodes’s Orks didn’t worship Gork and Mork. Super-beast upgrades even made them a bit atavistic, closer to the Krork—the Orks’ ancestors, created by the Old Ones. The Krork didn’t believe in Warp gods—they were peers of the Old Ones.

“You lie! Gork and Mork watch all Orks—big and small, Warbosses and all!

They even open their big mouths near the Eye of Terror, letting out daemons to make our lives more fun,” the Big Mek said.

All Orks believe the Great Rift near the Eye of Terror is Gork and Mork’s mouth, spitting out daemons for Orks to fight and play with.

“That Rift isn’t from your gods—it’s the work of Abaddon!

Don’t blame everything on your gods—they’re not as strong as you think,” Rhodes snorted.

After spending time with the Emperor, Rhodes learned about Warp gods. The Emperor said you could bargain with the Chaos Four—they’re nasty, but you can deal with them. The Emperor even got the gene-seed secret from them.

But Gork and Mork? They’re the ultimate trolls—utter bastards, the Emperor despised them.

They’re irrational, love causing trouble, only want to kick your ass, smash your head, tear off your clothes, and laugh.

Try to ally against the Chaos Four? They’ll gleefully tell Chaos your plan, then loot Chaos’s home for fun.

They screw over everyone!

They should be thrown in the trash—never to return. The Emperor had a massive grudge against the Ork gods.

Of course, you can’t take just one side’s word. The Emperor isn’t exactly reliable either—he’s a notorious liar.

When the Eldar goddess Isha was rescued by Rhodes, he also asked her opinion. She, too, hated Gork and Mork—if Rhodes wanted, she’d help take them down.

If both the Eldar gods and the Emperor say so, Rhodes knew what kind of beings they were!

To Orks, Gork and Mork are the mightiest gods—even the Four Chaos Gods are nothing compared to them!

Otherwise, you wouldn’t get the joke about the galaxy-spanning Great Rift being Gork and Mork’s smile.

“You lie! Our gods are the greatest! For shrimp like you, Gork and Mork could squash you with a finger! How dare you blaspheme our gods, I’ll—ah!”

Rhodes unleashed a weak version of his Breaking Fist, beating the Big Mek half to death!

He flew through the air, bleeding, and collapsed like a dead dog.

Only after the beating did Rhodes feel satisfied.

He’d lost patience arguing with Orks. With his immense psychic might and powers, he hypnotized the Big Mek.

Ordinary beings can’t resist—even many super lifeforms fall to Rhodes’s hypnosis.

Trying to reason with an Ork is pointless—Rhodes had given up on that.

The only way is brute force—hypnotize, then as part of the super-beast transformation, engrave loyalty into his mind.

The poor Big Mek’s eyes spun, and he went blank.

Beaten up, then mind-controlled!

“Nicely done, master! With Orks, you have to use brute force. Gentle words mean nothing to them,” Gromm praised with a thumbs-up.

That’s the Orky tradition—don’t talk reason, talk fists!

For Orks, the most convincing thing is your fists—are they big and hard enough?

In his recent campaigns, after wiping out the Tyranids, Gromm would pick out the Warbosses and leaders, beat them all down, and the rest would follow him.

“Exactly. Bring him, we’re going to modify him.”

Gromm nodded, grabbed the Big Mek by the leg, and dragged him behind Rhodes like a dead body.

They soon arrived at Yapool’s lab, where, thanks to Tartarus’s time acceleration, Mefilas’ flesh had been grown.

Smoothly, the Big Mek was placed in the super-beast machine, and Mefilas flesh was added.

The machine roared, energy waves spreading out—a 50-meter-tall, dark green, bone-spiked, hunched Ork wielding a staff, eyes glowing blue, appeared.

Zettn captured him with the Battlenizer, while Rhodes and Mefilas modified his memories—making him recognize Rhodes as master.

Tartarus’s eyes flashed gold, unlocking the Ork’s brain.

A blue light flashed, the old Ork shrank, and knelt before Rhodes.

“At your service, master!”

“From now on, your name is Gul’dan. You are one of my chief scientists. Your first task: build a stellar weapon—Attack Moon,” Rhodes ordered.

“As you command, great master. But I’ll need massive resources—at least a hundred Ork worlds supplying materials, billions of Ork laborers,” Gul’dan said.

“Octarius is your base—the Orks and planets here are your resources,” Rhodes said.

Having recruited Gul’dan, Rhodes’s Ork armies attacked the Tyranids anew!

…

At the edge of Octarius, in a pitch-black star system, countless Tyranid hive ships poured biomass into a planet-sized cocoon. The vast purple cocoon throbbed with heartbeats—a colossal beast was sleeping inside.