Chapter 64: Corrupt One, Corrupt a Horde

"Boss Bonebreaker?! You escaped from Shrimp?!"

A few days later, Saraka suddenly reappeared on the battlefield, where the Orks had been tearing each other apart in a frenzy of civil war.

His appearance had undergone dramatic changes. Not only was he taller and more imposing, but red, wheel-like patterns now circled his thick, muscular arms.

Most of the warbosses on the world of Organa were die-hard followers of Bonebreaker Saraka. The moment they saw him stride onto the field, they dropped their weapons and surrounded him, their cheers rising like a tide of green-skinned fanaticism.

"Who am I? I'm Bonebreaker Saraka!"

With a proud tilt of his head, Saraka declared his identity, exuding a domineering aura.

"WAAAGH!!!"

The Orks erupted into cheers, their voices merging into a deafening cacophony.

"Boss, how did ya escape?" one of the warbosses shouted, his curiosity barely contained.

Saraka's expression flickered for a moment—confusion and pain flashed across his face before he buried it beneath his usual arrogance.

"It was dangerous, boyz. That monster dragged me back to the Shrimp Fleet, and I was on the brink of death. But just when I thought it was over, I saw Him again."

"What?! You saw one of da gods? Was it Gork or Mork?"

"Neither." Saraka shook his head, a sly grin spreading across his face. "It was Du'go. He appeared before me, gave me strength, and made me fight my way out of that fleet!"

As he spoke, he patted the red, wheel-like patterns etched into his shoulders.

"See this? It's proof of His blessing!"

His words carried an unshakable conviction, as if everything had been preordained.

"Du'go?" The surrounding Orks scratched their heads, confused.

Green-skinned as they were, Orks rarely thought deeply about anything. They acted instinctively, their understanding often dictated by the Waaagh field.

Yet Saraka's declaration sparked something among them. They began to search the Waaagh network with their primitive, collective consciousness.

Sure enough, they discovered traces of a third presence—an entity lurking at the edges of their shared mindscape. Though they couldn't distinguish Gork, Mork, or Du'go, the idea was planted, and it began to take root.

"It's Du'go!" a warboss suddenly shouted, as if struck by inspiration. "Gork's brutal but cunning, Mork's cunning but brutal, and Du'go's both brutal and cunning!"

"That's it! Waaagh!"

Saraka's grin widened. His presence was magnetic, his confidence infectious. "Now listen, boyz! These petty fights mean nothin'. We've got a bigger goal now!"

The Orks leaned closer, their crude faces alight with curiosity.

"I've received Du'go's revelation. I'm his prophet, and I'm gonna lead the Orks to unite under Waaagh! Together, we'll conquer the stars and launch the most brutal Waaagh ever seen in this dark galaxy!"

Bonebreaker's voice thundered across the battlefield.

For a moment, the Orks were silent. Then came a roar:

"WAAAGH!!!"

"Boss Bonebreaker, I'm with ya!"

"Me too!"

"Count me in!"

The red, wheel-like marks spread among the Orks as they swore loyalty to Saraka and his divine mission. These marks, resembling overlapping wheels, became a totem of Du'go's favor. The Orks believed that with Du'go's blessing, they would become unstoppable, no matter the danger.

In the outer orbit of Organa, aboard the Imperial Truth, a fleet of Imperial battleships watched the chaos unfold.

Primarch Dukel sat in his office, his presence a study in quiet control. With every passing moment, he could feel more Orks connecting to the Waaagh network—and by extension, to him.

In the Warhammer galaxy, networks are dangerous things. They can provide unity and strength, but once infiltrated, they become tools of corruption. Dukel knew this better than anyone. Even his own Heart Network was rigorously protected, its purity maintained by isolating it from any external taint.

Yet here he was, deliberately invading the Ork Waaagh network, twisting it for his own purposes.

"Corrupt one, corrupt the horde," he muttered to himself, a faint smirk on his face.

The Orks were like prey caught in a spider's web, oblivious to the trap tightening around them. Their crude minds and collective faith made them perfect tools for his experiment.

Dukel leaned back in his chair, his psychic presence reaching across the galaxy. The immense Waaagh energy, laced with traces of ancient Old One technology, was now fueling his essence.

This power was a boon beyond imagining.

As a conscientious manipulator, Dukel allowed a fraction of this energy to trickle back to Saraka, empowering the Ork warlord further. This investment was negligible for Dukel, but it would transform Saraka into one of the most powerful warlords the Orks had ever known.

With a feathered quill in hand, Dukel tapped it against his desk.

"I say this quill shoots lasers."

Reality itself warped under the influence of the Waaagh energy. A thin beam of light erupted from the quill, leaving a scorch mark on the wall.

"Not bad." Dukel chuckled. With this newfound power, he could refine his psychic techniques and delve deeper into his biomagnetic field experiments—all at the Orks' expense.

"Will Gork or Mork catch on to this?" He mused aloud.

A sly grin spread across his face. "Let them try. After all, they're just small cogs in this machine now."

The Primarch had analyzed the Waaagh network in detail. While Gork and Mork were powerful entities, they were bound to the network like hardware—limited by their nature, incapable of evolution.

To Dukel, they were relics, unworthy of fear.

"Now, let's keep this Waaagh rolling."

...

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