Chapter 117 Gork & Mork (Bonus)

“Who the heck are you lot, anyway?” Gork demanded, eyeing the group suspiciously. “Why are you here?”

Mork puffed out his chest, trying his absolute hardest to look fierce. “You better give me and my bro a good reason, or we’re gonna bash your teef in!”

“We were sent by the Old Ones to take care of you. You guys still remember the Old Ones, right?” Vane looked at the two obviously dim-witted little Greenskins. He figured he’d try the diplomatic route before resorting to violence. After all, speedrunning wasn’t just about hacking and slashing; sometimes it was about playing the social game.

“Oh, Uncle sent you!” Gork’s face lit up with sudden realization. “Why didn’t they come themselves?”

“They went somewhere very far away, and they won’t be coming back,” Vane smoothly lied. “So from now on, I’m the one looking after you. That means you need to listen to what I say.”

“If Uncle sent you, then why are you hanging out with this metal skeleton?” Mork pointed his massive spiked club straight at Trazyn. “Uncle told us these guys are all bad! They’re petty, mean, and totally ungrateful! It was obviously the C’tan’s fault, but they blamed Uncle and the others for not helping them out!”

Trazyn tightened his grip on his staff, his necrodermis face locked into an expression of sheer, unadulterated speechlessness. What do you mean ‘petty’? What do you mean ‘ungrateful’? This is blatant slander!

The Void Dragon, hovering nearby, wisely kept its mouth shut. It had clearly understood the chubby little Ork’s accusations. The predecessors of the Necrons—the Necrontyr—had been cursed by their home star. Their entire race was plagued by agonizingly short lifespans. The moment they hit a certain age, they would be riddled with space-cancer and could do nothing but wait to die. Even after they bailed on their home world and developed mind-bendingly advanced biotechnology, there was still absolutely no cure.

Later on, they encountered the Old Ones. Seeing that these ancient beings possessed incredibly long lifespans, the Necrontyr begged them for help.

The Old Ones refused, so the Necrontyr declared war.

In the first war, the Old Ones relied on their vastly superior technology and the Webway to beat the absolute crap out of the Necrontyr. But the Old Ones were too soft-hearted. Instead of wiping them out entirely, they simply banished the Necrontyr back to their home system and told them to behave.

Exiled back to their irradiated rock, the Necrontyr kept digging into their research until they finally discovered the true reason behind their pathetic lifespans. It turned out that the C’tan—beings of pure energy—were essentially snacking on their home star. This celestial feasting bombarded their planet with extreme, toxic radiation, inflicting their entire race with an incurable curse of short life.

Even after learning the truth, the Triarch didn’t let go of their burning hatred for the Old Ones. Instead, to distract from their own internal conflicts, they doubled down on the propaganda, loudly blaming the Old Ones for everything. Then, they made a deal with the devil, teaming up with the C’tan to take down their mutual enemy.

That unholy alliance sparked the War in Heaven—a cataclysmic conflict that dragged countless races into the meat grinder and permanently turned the galaxy into an absolute hellhole.

“I took this guy prisoner, and now he works for me,” Vane explained to the twin gods. “So step aside, boys. I’ve got a job to finish for the Old Ones.”

“I think you’re full of crap.” Gork eyed Vane suspiciously. “Do you think my bro and I are idiots?”

Vane didn’t even blink. “If I wasn’t the guy the Old Ones sent to look after you, how would I even know you were here? You’ve been hiding out here for ages. Has anyone else ever managed to find this place?”

“He’s got a point.” Mork leaned in close to Gork. “So many different folks have taken over this rock over the years, and no one’s ever found the two of us. This guy walked right in. Uncle must’ve given him the coordinates.”

“Hold up, that ain’t right. He didn’t have a key; he smashed the door to get in!” Gork glared back at Vane. “He’s gotta be a bad guy! Uncle would’ve given him the key if he was legit!”

Hearing this, Big E, Eldrad, and Trazyn felt their stomachs drop. They subtly shifted their stances, ready to fight.

Vane just threw his hands up in a casual shrug. “Who said I broke the door? I just got the upgraded key. It’s newer, safer, and way more secure. Don’t believe me? Watch this.”

Vane pulled the black sphere out of his inventory and placed it right back where the entrance used to be. A second later, a miracle happened. The black sphere reformed completely, looking exactly as it had before he mined it.

Gork scratched his head. “Well, I’ll be. That’s practically a miracle. It’s totally fixed. Alright, fine, I believe you now. Come on, bro, let’s get out of his way.”

Seeing Gork and Mork actually step aside, Big E, Eldrad, and Trazyn were completely dumbfounded.

No way. Did he seriously just smooth-talk Gork and Mork?! You two are literal gods created by the Old Ones! Are you seriously that gullible?

“Umm…” Eldrad stepped up to the two Ork gods. “Actually, I was also sent by the Old Ones to take care of you.”

Most of the legacy left by the Old Ones had been inherited by the ancient Aeldari. Logically speaking, the Greenskins—being a biological weapon—should fall under their jurisdiction as well.

“Piss off, you stinking bean sprout!” Gork hoisted his great-axe, looking thoroughly annoyed. “Or I’ll chop you right in half!”

“Yeah, and then we’ll smash you into paste and flush you down the toilet!” Mork threatened, swinging his massive spiked club while still sounding incredibly squeaky and childish.

Eldrad was completely dumbfounded by the verbal assault. This wasn’t how the script was supposed to go!

Why were they acting so adorably gullible with Vane, but going completely psycho on him? Threatening murder over a simple hello?! Do Orks really have double standards now?

Trazyn stroked his metallic chin as he studied the Ork twin gods, a suspicion forming in his mind. Did these two realize they couldn’t win in a straight fight, so they decided to play dumb instead?

As a veteran of the War in Heaven, Trazyn had witnessed the terrifying combat power of the original Krorks firsthand. He had even seen Ork champions directly possessed by the twin gods. Their sheer destructive force was off the charts—capable of cleaving entire battleships in two with a single swing of an axe. There was absolutely no way entities that aggressively violent could be genuinely sweet-talked with a few throwaway sentences.

—

Ignoring the peanut gallery behind him, Vane stepped right up to the massive console. The moment he reached out, a holographic interface flickered to life.

“So this really is the master control panel for the Greenskins.”

Vane tapped the surface, and a softly glowing menu popped up right in front of him.

“Gotta hand it to the Old Ones, they had a pretty modern sense of style. This configuration menu looks exactly like a video game settings screen.” Vane muttered to himself as he scrolled through the various drop-downs and sliders.

He had to admit, the Old Ones’ tech was insanely overpowered. Engineering an entire biological race was basically just like creating a custom character in an RPG.

Honestly, I should totally copy this UI template later. I could set up my own system interface and kidnap a bunch of players for my own amusement.

Vane had actually been toying with the idea of building an Infinite Pocket Dimension for a while now. He wanted to snatch up a bunch of hardcore gamers and force them to clear insane death-game levels, basically turning it into a reality TV show to kill some time. Staring at the control panel the Old Ones had left behind, that urge only grew stronger.

I’ll carve out a massive gaming hub out in the void, and then build completely different worlds as stages, linking them all together. Then, I’ll send out pop-up invites to all those poor bastards who died in random accidents, turning them into my personal player base.

[Do you want to know the true meaning of life? Do you want to truly live? YES / YES]

Once they hit ‘YES’, they’d get sucked right into my game hub. I’d hook them all up with a Popularity System. Every once in a while, they’d be forced to go on a deadly adventure. Meanwhile, I’d gather an audience and sit back behind the scenes, eating popcorn and watching them struggle to survive. I could even throw down some donations or gifts if they were entertaining enough.

Just imagine the content: paranoid mind games and backstabbing, desperate escapes from cosmic horrors, crazy PvP duels using all sorts of weird loot…

I could totally brand the whole thing as the Desire Grand Prix. Survive the gauntlet, clear the game, and become the ultimate winner to claim the grand prize and have your deepest desires granted.

Vane couldn’t help but grin like an idiot just thinking about it.

Of course, he couldn’t just kidnap a bunch of players. He’d also need to recruit a crew of sadistic level designers. He’d delegate the grunt work of designing the nightmare stages and side quests to them. That way, he could guarantee maximum suffering for the players, premium entertainment for the audience, and, most importantly, endless amusement for himself.

—

OR