2nd Primarch

The imperial soldiers charged fearlessly onto the battlefield, but their mortal bodies could not keep pace with the towering giant.

To their awe, the giant carved a bloody path through the Ork horde with ease, decapitating the warlord before activating the jetpack on his armor and ascending back to the warship hovering above.

Moments later, transporters descended, deploying waves of Space Marines and Battle Sisters. These angels of the Emperor struck the crumbling Ork legion with the force of a storm, annihilating the remnants with precision and fury.

As the last enemies fell, the imperial soldiers lowered their weapons. They stood silently in the aftermath, gazing into the sky where the giant had vanished, like lost sailors bereft of their guiding lighthouse.

Meanwhile, the expeditionary force captured numerous Orks alive, packing them into transports bound for intensive study.

Dukel hurried to the laboratory, where the Great Sage Gris awaited with mechanical assistants at the ready.

The Primarch performed live dissections on the captured Orks, extracting vital samples and feeding them into advanced analytical machines. Gris muttered prayers to the machine spirits as he calibrated the instruments, ensuring the accuracy of the data. Dukel's mental network tapped into vast computational resources, confident that their experiments would soon yield critical results.

Elsewhere in the Ork Factory

The rumors spread by the expeditionary corps had taken on a life of their own, warping as they reached a sprawling Ork mekshop.

Here, Gretchin and young mekboys cobbled together crude war machines from scrap metal under the supervision of their hulking masters.

A group of warboys clustered near a beaten-down off-road vehicle, waiting impatiently for repairs while they exchanged wild stories.

"I heard a monster from the humies killed our warlord with one punch!" one of them exclaimed, wide-eyed.

"Bah, lies! It's just propaganda to scare us," scoffed another.

"I saw a poster meself!" A boy pulled a crumpled flyer from his loincloth. "It looked real waaagh!"

"Real waaagh?! You're daft! Only a grot'd believe dat!"

The debate grew heated until a towering figure loomed over them: the Big Mek himself. His presence silenced the bickering instantly.

"You lot are dumber than squigs on a hot plate," the Big Mek sneered, his bulbous head tilting arrogantly. "Think a buncha shrimp could kill a proper boss?!"

The warboys shuffled uncomfortably, unsure how to respond.

"You think you know, but you don't," the Mek continued, leaning in conspiratorially. "I saw it with me own eyes. That humie's no ordinary git—it's a war machine ten meters tall! Ripped our boss's head clean off and squashed warboys like bugs!"

The boys gasped, their skepticism eroded by the Mek's conviction.

"That's not all," the Mek added. "That thing ain't stoppin'. It's growin' stronger every day, and soon, it'll eat every Ork army in its path!"

"What? Waaagh! That's impossible!" one boy muttered, but his voice was drowned out by the others.

"It must be true!" one exclaimed. "How else could we've lost so badly?"

The Big Mek crossed his arms smugly, basking in the attention. "You lot better keep this quiet. If word spreads, it'll send the whole Ork army into a panic!"

The warboys nodded fervently, swearing secrecy even as the story ignited imaginations.

The Spread of Fear

Despite the Mek's warnings, the tale spread like wildfire through the Ork ranks. With each retelling, the story grew more exaggerated:

"They say the humie monster's got four arms and eight hearts!"

"Nah, it's fifty meters tall, and its footsteps shake the ground for miles!"

"Oi, I heard it eats whole warbands fer breakfast!"

Even seasoned warbosses began to worry, as the vivid rumors undermined their confidence.

One warboss, arriving from a neighboring world, bristled at the chatter. "Bah! Show me dis monster! I'll krump it meself!"

But as he listened to the warboys' descriptions—each more outlandish than the last—his bravado faltered.

A monster that could tear apart warbosses with a glare? That could crush entire hordes underfoot? How could they possibly fight such a thing?

The warboss felt a rare chill of doubt creep into his mind. For the first time in his brutal career, he questioned whether Waaagh! alone would be enough.