Chapter 479 - 479: WAAAAAAAAGH!!!

The Mad Docs, gripping their magnetic-coil neural amplifiers, went at Blackiron with a savage, grinding intensity, driving one implant after another straight into his flesh!

Skull and spine alike ended up studded with more than a dozen neural amplifier units, enough to send him rolling his eyes back in his skull.

But once his eyes rolled back, he snapped right back to alertness soon enough, hunger for battle burning bright in his gaze.

One Mad Doc waved a finger in front of Blackiron's face to test his responsiveness, and Blackiron promptly bit the finger clean off.

The Mad Doc let out a howl of pain, then reported back to Three-Arm with perfect calm:

"Patient's showin' stable temperament. Surgery's a success. Just keep 'im on a light diet for a bit, and he'll be fine."

Three-Arm gestured, and several Mekboys came forward, carrying him up into the Gargant's internal chest cavity and connecting the neural cabling to Blackiron.

Once the connection was complete, Three-Arm and his crew moved through the towering machine's frame, checking systems, priming the engine.

Even though this Gargant was Three-Arm's proudest achievement, he didn't dare pilot it himself.

A machine this massive would generate enough neural feedback to fry his own brain outright.

And he had zero interest in undergoing a neural amplification procedure of his own, the thought of driving rebar-thick rods straight into his skull was enough to make his skin crawl just imagining it.

So piloting duty fell to Blackiron instead, while Three-Arm remained inside as part of the crew, handling the Gargant's ongoing maintenance and operation.

Right now, Three-Arm stood at the central control platform, an array of dials and display screens spread out in front of him.

He glanced over the readouts, grabbed a comm mic, and shouted:

"BOILER ROOM! Wot are ya waitin' for?! Get da furnace goin', NOW!!"

Down in the lower tiers of the fifty-plus-meter Gargant sat a colossal engine, several Mekboys crowded around it, scratching their heads.

"Oi, how do ya even start dis thing? I dunno how!"

One Mekboy said.

Another Mekboy, without a second thought, just kicked it.

His steel-plated boot slammed into the engine housing, and the whole thing immediately roared to life, sending a shudder through the entire Gargant's frame!

This was a full plasma engine, torn out of a warship, capable of generating tremendous power.

But for reasons unclear, it ran with a distinctly unstable rhythm, spewing enormous quantities of highly radioactive smoke as it operated, requiring dedicated ventilation systems just to vent the toxic exhaust out through a smokestack.

The moment the plasma engine started up, the two smokestacks jutting from the Gargant's back immediately began belching radioactive black smoke.

The Gargant's power systems came online, and a flood of neural signals surged into Blackiron, the war-machine's living organic chip, sending him into violent convulsions.

Three-Arm watched nervously. A body this massive generated enough neural feedback to fry an ordinary Ork's brain outright. He genuinely had no idea whether Blackiron could survive the process.

Blackiron thrashed continuously, eyes rolling back over and over, the amplifier coils bristling from his skull and spine crackling with green lightning.

The process dragged on for a full ten-plus minutes before the neural feedback finally stabilized, and Blackiron's twitching body finally went still, lying limp on the control couch.

Three-Arm glanced around, uncertain what had actually happened.

Just as he was about to step over and check whether Blackiron was still alive, the Gargant suddenly moved on its own!

The fifty-plus-meter Gargant raised one massive foot and slammed it down into the earth, and the entire ground shook with a thunderous roar.

The Gargant's eyes flared to life, and Blackiron's booming laughter erupted through the internal vox mounted in its cavernous mouth.

"POWER! I CAN FEEL IT! POWER LIKE I'VE NEVER FELT!!

I'M DA TOUGHEST NOW! I'M DA TOUGHEST ORK THERE EVER WAS!!

I WANT WAAAGH! I'M GONNA START A WAAAAAAAAGH THAT SWEEPS DA WHOLE WORLD!!!"

That earth-shaking roar carried across the entire site through the Gargant's speaker array, and every one of the several hundred thousand Orks gathered nearby heard his declaration.

Seeing the towering Gargant come to life, their blood surged with fervor, minds instantly linking to the greenskin network, and they roared back in unison:

"WAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!"

Across every continent, every landmass of Forge World Primo-496a, humans and Orks were locked in combat.

Humanity's advance had been unstoppable, the Astra Militarum, the Astartes, the Knights all pushing forward relentlessly, driving the Orks into constant retreat.

The greenskins had grown listless, disinterested, barely putting up a fight.

But then, without warning, every single dispirited Ork on the entire planet's eyes lit up at once, and they all roared in unison:

"WAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!"

That roar erupted with terrifying suddenness, and the instant it did, Ork ferocity across the entire globe surged violently.

Their expressions twisted into savage, ecstatic hunger, their movements exploded in speed, their aggression spiked to unprecedented levels.

One Ork Boy, choppa raised, charged forward in a mad, unrelenting rush.

Astra Militarum soldiers unloaded lasfire into him nonstop, his chest reduced to a bloody, ruined mess, but he kept charging straight into their formation, cutting down a dozen or more soldiers before finally going down.

A human Knight had been steadily suppressing a cluster of surrounding Ork mechs, its towering frame simply overpowering their weaker armoured group.

But the instant that thunderous WAAAGH echoed out, every Ork mech present exploded into a berserk frenzy, swarming the Knight in a chaotic melee, hacking at it without pause.

The Knight managed to kill triple digits of enemies before finally running out of strength, buried alive under an endless tide of Ork war-machines.

More Orks came pouring out from every hidden corner, rallying and surging toward human positions in a fresh offensive.

Ork elite units, ones that had all but vanished from the battlefield entirely, sprang back up everywhere like weeds after rain: Mekboys, Weird Boyz, Kommandos.

Mekboys scavenged broken parts off the battlefield to build fresh weapons on the fly. Weird Boyz tore through human infantry with devastating psychic force. Kommandos infiltrated deep behind human lines, sabotaging supply routes and rear positions.

Just moments earlier, the Astra Militarum had reclaimed 80% of the planet's surface, confident the remaining 20% would be a formality.

A Marshal had even publicly declared they'd be home in the hive cities in time to celebrate the Emperor's birthday.

Instead, the Orks went berserk without warning, their combat effectiveness spiking more than tenfold, and humanity's advance slammed straight into what felt like a solid wall of iron, bloodied and reeling.

And that wall kept pushing outward. Territory humanity had reclaimed began slipping back, 80% dropping to 79%, then 78%, then 77%.

Inside the hive command center, the Governor and his Marshals gathered for an emergency session.

The Governor clutched at his own disheveled, nest-like hair and roared:

"CAN SOMEONE TELL ME WHY THESE GODDAMNED GREENSKINS CAN'T JUST DIE QUIETLY?! WHY ARE THEY GOING BERSERK AGAIN, AGAIN, AGAIN?!

WHY, JUST WHEN WE WERE ON THE VERGE OF VICTORY, IS THE LINE GETTING PUSHED BACK?! SOMEBODY TELL ME! TELL MEEEEE!!!"

He raged, half-hysterical, and none of the assembled Marshals dared say a word.

Until a junior officer suddenly shouted: "Sir, look! Our satellite just captured this!!"

The officer projected the satellite feed onto the main display, and everyone in the room turned to look.

There, on the screen, stood a mountain-sized Ork war-machine, flanked by a massive column of Ork tanks, armoured vehicles, and smaller mechs.

Together, they moved like a rolling, mobile mountain range of steel, advancing from the Ork rear straight toward the human front line...

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