The tidal wave of Waaagh!!! crashed across the planet's surface and orbital space simultaneously, as Ork warbands from every corner of the galaxy swarmed in like moths to a flame, pouring themselves into this burning feast without end.
The Necrons' steel tide and their merciless purges had done nothing to snuff out the green fire. If anything, they had acted like bellows, fanning the flames higher, wilder, and more savage than ever.
In this conflict pushed to the absolute limits of madness, a species-wide struggle for survival, the Ork principle of "the harder the pressure, the faster the evolution, the nastier the build" was being driven to heights never seen before.
When conventional war machines seemed insufficient to decisively turn the tide, certain "geniuses" among the Orks began casting their eyes toward grander, more thoroughly Waaagh!!! ambitions.
A special announcement blared across every Ork player's interface, delivered in a thick Mek accent and punctuated by the clang of wrenches on metal and the crackling spit of energy sparks:
"ATTENTION! ATTENTION! ALL BOYS, BOSSES, AND ANY GIT WITH SCRAP IN HIS POCKETS, LISTEN UP!"
"OUR SUPER MEKBOSS OVER HERE, 'RED-EYE', HAS LANDED WITH HIS SNOTLING FLEET!"
"RED-EYE BOSS WAS JUST LOOKIN' AT THEM BIG IRON SHIPS IN THE SKY AND THEM HARD IRON PYRAMIDS ON THE GROUND, AND HE GOT AN IDEA! LIKE GETTING A BOOT TO THE BRAIN FROM GORK HIMSELF!"
"HE'S GONNA DO SOMETHIN' PROPPA BIG! HE'S GONNA BASH TOGETHER THE MOST SUPER, MEGA, ULTRA WAAAAAAGH!!! WAR MACHINE EVER!"
"ACCORDING TO RED-EYE BOSS'S DRUNKEN MUSHROOM-WINE RAMBLINGS, THIS THING WILL BE MORE BRUTAL THAN THE LEGENDARY 'GORK-ZILLA' AND MORE MENTAL THAN 'MORK-ZILLA'! WHEN IT SHOWS UP, IT'S GONNA YANK THEM METAL SKELETONS' ARKS RIGHT OUT OF THE SKY AND USE 'EM AS FOOTBALLS!"
"BUT! BUILDIN' SOMETHING THIS BIG AIN'T SOMETHIN' RED-EYE BOSS AND HIS MEKBOY CREW CAN DO ALONE! IT NEEDS A MOUNTAIN OF Scrapjaw!"
"SO LISTEN UP! ALL YOU BOYS WITH Scrapjaw RESOURCES! STOP HOARDING! RIGHT NOW, THIS INSTANT, GET MOVING! TAKE YOUR Scrapjaw TO THE 'MEK TOWN' MARKED ON THE MAP AND HAND IT OVER TO THE SNOTLING HELPERS THERE!"
"THE MORE Scrapjaw YOU BRING, THE FASTER RED-EYE BOSS CAN BUILD! WHEN THIS BIG BOY IS DONE AND WE GO WAAAGH!!! WITH IT, THE XP, THE LOOT, THE PURE SATISFACTION... HEH HEH HEH!"
"MOVE IT! FOR A BIGGER WAAAGH!!! FOR SMASHIN' ALL THEM IRON GITS FLAT!"
At the end of the announcement, an unmistakably bold map marker had been attached: a crude gear-and-wrench crossed design, with a massive Ork skull wreathed in green flames at its center. Beside the marker, a progress bar displayed the current construction status: [1%].
The moment she saw this announcement, I Will Carry You, who had been crouched behind some ruins, using her shoulder-mounted Snotling gun platform to take potshots at distant Necron lines, felt her eyes light up instantly.
"A super Ork war machine? The kind the whole server pools resources to build?" She was buzzing with excitement. Grand, player-collaborative "epic quests" like this were always the events that ignited the most passion and satisfaction in every game she had ever played. Even better, she happened to have resources to spare.
The Ork faction had a unique battlefield resource called Scrapjaw. It didn't require any complicated gathering actions. Simply spending time on the battlefield was enough for the system to automatically "collect" a certain amount and store it in the player's resource tab.
Scrapjaw was primarily used by Mekboy-path players for crafting or upgrading weapons and vehicles, or for exchanging certain special consumables.
Liora wasn't a Mekboy, but she had a hoarding instinct. On top of that, back when she had been running with Steel Fang and Hodi, the battlefields had been absolutely flush with Scrapjaw, and she had been picking it up on reflex ever since, stockpiling it without ever spending any. She opened her resource tab and checked: a full 5,000 units.
"Jackpot!" She nearly leapt out from behind cover. "It's not like I can use it anyway. I'll donate the whole lot and see what kind of monster they build!"
Without hesitation, she pulled up the map and locked onto the conspicuous "Mek Town" marker. It wasn't exactly nearby, but with her jet pack and a good amount of ducking and weaving, she put in the time and finally arrived.
"Mek Town," as it turned out, was a sprawling complex of massive "junk mountains," cobbled together from scrap metal, sheet plating, component heaps, and ramshackle workshops thrown up in a hurry.
The air was thick with the stench of machine oil, smelted metal, and ozone. The clanging of hammers, the screech of energy welders, and the shrill yelling of Snotlings all blended together into a deafening wall of noise.
At the center stood a "factory" rigged from massive metal skeletons and the shells of scrapped vehicles, and the burning Ork skull emblem hung from the top of it all.
At the factory entrance, a large crowd of Snotling assistants in goggles and carrying crude scrap-iron scales were working furiously. A sizable number of Ork players and AI Ork Boys had already gathered, forming crooked, shambling queues.
They were pulling their collected Scrapjaw from their resource tabs and "manifesting" it physically: pile after pile of rust-streaked, oddly-shaped metal chunks, components, and even half a cannon barrel. The Snotling assistants counted and weighed it all, then smaller Snotlings carted it away on trolleys, or simply rolled it, into the deafening depths of the factory.
The progress bar above the factory was climbing at a visible, if gradual, pace as the Scrapjaw poured in: 2%... 3%... 5%...
Liora hurried to the back of the queue. When her turn finally came, she selected all 5,000 units of Scrapjaw in her resource tab and confirmed the submission with no hesitation.
CRASH!
A small mountain of assorted metal junk materialized in front of her out of thin air, nearly burying her to the waist. The Ork players and Snotlings around her let out a collective gasp.
"Impressive! Get it inside, move it!"
The Snotling assistants went into a frenzy, chittering and squealing as they directed even more Snotling slaves over to haul the pile away. The moment the contribution was absorbed, the progress bar lurched forward in a single dramatic jump, rocketing from around 8% all the way to 15%.
"It's working!" Liora watched the bar tick forward, her chest swelling with a sense of participation and anticipation.
More and more players arrived as word spread, each adding their own Scrapjaw to the effort. With the combined contributions of countless players and AI units, the progress bar began climbing faster and faster. 30%... 50%... 70%... The entire Mek Town throbbed like an enormous heart, hammering and roaring as the Scrapjaw "lifeblood" flowed in.
The pounding from inside the factory grew denser and more frantic. Light from energy fluctuations flickered through the gaps more and more frequently.
Thick green electrical arcs began leaping across the exterior. Something was growing inside, swelling and straining against its constraints: a Waaagh!!! energy that was equal parts violent and ecstatic, fermenting and expanding in the heat.
Then, the moment the progress bar hit 100%...
Every sound in Mek Town died at once.
And then...
BOOOOOM!!!
An explosion erupted from the heart of the factory unlike anything that had come before, a roar so deep and primal it seemed to come from the earth itself.
The massive factory structure was ripped open from the inside and sent flying like papier-mâché. A blinding pillar of green energy surged skyward, staining the heavens with an ominous emerald haze.
Smoke, fire, and shards of metal swept outward in all directions like a storm. Snotlings and players near the blast were sent tumbling by the shockwave.
When the dust had barely begun to settle, every Ork player gathered there witnessed a sight they would never forget for the rest of their lives.
An iron colossus, impossible to describe in words for its sheer enormity and ferocity, rose slowly from the ruins.
It bore the Orks' signature aesthetic: rough, asymmetrical, and brutally magnificent. It stood sixty to seventy meters tall, the height of a twenty-story building. Its overall silhouette carried the unmistakable shadow of a Gargant, yet heavier, and altogether more deranged.
Its torso was a fortress seemingly welded together from dozens of tanks and starship hulks with reckless force.
The surface bristled with spikes, ram-horns, and an uncountable number of gun ports: thick cannon barrels alongside multi-tube rocket nests, incinerator guns belching green flame alongside spinning energy cutters, and every other implement of destruction in between.
Its two arms were immense. The left was a colossal power claw, its fingertips fitted with spinning chainsaw teeth.
The right was a super heavy main cannon of terrifying caliber, its barrel reinforced with multiple layers of metal banding, the muzzle already gathering a condensed glow of dreadful energy.
The head was fashioned in the likeness of an even larger Ork skull-helm. Where its eyes should have been burned two roaring columns of green warp flame. Its gaping maw, like a furnace mouth, continuously belched sparks and waves of scorching heat.
Across its back spread a complex array of thrusters and additional weapon platforms, and one could even make out several weapons salvaged from Necron technology, forcibly grafted onto its frame.
With every step it took, the earth shuddered, leaving deep imprints in the scorched ground. Merely standing there, the Waaagh!!! pressure radiating from its frame was enough to send nearby low-tier Necron units into signal collapse.
[THE GARGANT, ULTIMATE WAAAGH!!! PATTERN] had arrived upon the battlefield.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!!!!!!"
From the ruins of Mek Town, every Ork who had witnessed the birth of this creation, players and AI alike, erupted simultaneously into the most fevered, most ecstatic roar in the history of the Waaagh!!!. The sound nearly punched through the sky.
Liora was trembling with excitement. Staring up at this towering behemoth, this thing she had personally donated five thousand Scrapjaw to help build, an indescribable sense of accomplishment and belonging welled up inside her.
"That's... that's absolutely insane," she murmured. "Let's see the Necrons act smug now."
The massive Gargant seemed to sense the cheering surrounding it. Its burning warp-flame eyes swiveled toward the direction of the Necron main battle lines.
The super heavy main cannon began to charge with a low, resonant groan, like an ancient beast dragging itself out of a long sleep.