Warhammer 40k Fanfic - Reborn's Revenge

Chap. 48 - Cunning Fighting

The cheers fell silent. The winds coming from the south of the planet ceased. Nothing could be heard, nothing was felt except the vibrating tension between the two colossi that rose above the sand.

The seconds passed more bitterly than usual. Seconds of tension for both the challenger and the one who held the title of champion of the horde. As well as for his lackeys.

It had been centuries since anyone dared to challenge the great Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka, and the last one to do so was now not even dust in the wind. But now, this strange, silver-haired ork stood before him, challenging his authority and his right to rule over every greenskin in this universe.

Ghazghkull knew it. He knew it as soon as he saw it. He knew it even before he arrived. Morko himself had warned him that his throne was tottering before Gorko's will. This entire moment was nothing more than a whim of their gods, a battle impossible to evade, where it would be determined who would really be the emissary of destruction. He bathed in the blessings of the supreme gods of war and is the new herald.

The great greenskin, the prophet of Armaggedon, was a bearer of a terrifying figure. Huge and armored to the teeth. In his left hand he showed with satisfaction a colossal metallic hand, culminating in three sharp movable claws and a counterpart that acted as a thumb, although anything he held onto was destined to be broken into pieces. In his right hand he carried a weapon as exaggerated as it was ridiculous. A four-barrel machine gun system, capable of spitting out absurd amounts of ammunition in a matter of minutes. And if that were not enough, its entire body was covered by a metal frame about eight inches long, as thick as the dreaded Maus tank.

On the other hand, the challenger seemed not to be up to the task of this confrontation. Despite having had the horde's entire arsenal at his disposal, Kanan did not choose to carry any piece of armor other than the black templar shoulder pad that was part of himself, although it became increasingly tighter. Not because of a mere act of stubbornness, but because his combat style was based on agility and not endurance, something he immediately regretted when he saw his opponent. In his right hand he carried a huge battle axe, as big as himself, but with enough strength to cut through up to four inches of armor... Which once again was not enough. And finally, tied to his waist, the Mark II sword that he carried since the battlefields of Aten III.

Then... The powerful voice of the great green rose amidst the sepulchral silence of the prelude to combat.

Ghazghkull: - Zo... you're the other favorite... I muzt zay... I ezpected it to be bigger. Like the big guy over there. He zeemz like a good warlord. - He said while pointing to Kurnet.

Kanan: - It's not the first time they've told me that. -

Ghazghkull: - I zee... I ztill ezpect a lot from zomeone who haz been chozen by the googz to challenge me... I hope you don't dizappoint me. -

Kanan: - Don't worry... That won't happen. -

Even Ghazghkull himself smiled when he saw the white-haired ork's defiant attitude. Kanan looked at his opponent with a determination he hadn't shown in a long time. This was probably the moment that would define his journey and his crusade.

The challenger stood in a combat pose, raising the powerful war ax with both hands, the pommel pointing to the ground, the tip of the blade pointing at the two suns rising above the azure skies. A center of balance located at a midpoint, with its legs ready to charge as soon as the duel began.

Ghazghkull, on the other hand, pointed his machine gun forward, while opening and closing his claws to terrify his opponent. Threats that seemed to have no effect. He was sure that that weakling couldn't beat him, but he wouldn't trust himself because of that. He's already lost his mind once, literally, and he wouldn't underestimate an enemy again. Much less if this caught the attention of one of their gods.