Warhammer: Don't Call Me the God of All Machines

Chapter 836 Orc Emperor Vulcan

The enraged Gao Ge ignored Mao Ge's sophistry and charged forward again with his massive body accompanied by a destructive gust of wind.

His enormous fist, imbued with pure, irrational violence, slammed into Mao Ge's hastily raised arm, the dull thud sounding like two planets colliding.

"I'm the real 'Gao Ge'!"

"I am!"

"You bastard!"

The roar shook the entire green tide of the orcish realm to the point of boiling. Gao Ge's fists rained down like raindrops, and Mao Ge was forced to retreat step by step, only able to use his thick arms to protect his vitals in a sorry state, his dark green, tough skin sparking as he was hit.

Finally, Mao Ge found an opening, and his cunning eyes suddenly lit up with a dazzling scarlet light as he activated his powerful "Electric Eyes."

Two thick beams of heat slammed into Gao Ge's chest, causing his massive body to stagger and fly backward.

"You muscle-headed idiot, haven't you realized that the big new guy is lying to you?"

Countless foul-smelling saliva splattered from Mao Ge's huge mouth, landing on the surrounding orcs who were watching the spectacle. Instantly, the green tide boiled, and many orcs rushed to smear Mao Ge's saliva all over their bodies.

A miraculous scene unfolded: the orc boys who had been splashed with Mao's bodily fluids began to swell up as if inflated.

Their previously dull and cloudy eyes suddenly burst forth with the light of wisdom. Some orcs developed psionic runes on their skin and evolved into neurotic lads; others were surrounded by primal shamanic energy and became orc shamans.

Even a tiny dander or a drop of saliva on Mao Ge's body is a sacred object to ordinary orcs; the more they get on him, the faster they evolve and the stronger they become.

Upon hearing Mao Ge's angry rebuke, Gao Ge slammed his massive fist into his mountain-like head, producing a deafening "thud."

"I think I've been scammed!"

"How dare you lie to me!"

Gao Ge's roar was like a cosmic storm, causing the entire divine realm to tremble.

His eyes, burning with furious flames, swept sharply toward where Vulcan had been, only to see a dark green figure striding desperately toward the depths of the divine realm.

With each step taken by the Fire Dragon Lord, whose size had grown to an enormous scale, he traversed thousands of kilometers. The Orcish God Realm was also part of the subspace, where the sense of time and space was extremely blurred.

As soon as Vulcan's large foot touched the ground, it would create a patch of white in the endless green tide, while the orcs would simply vanish into nothingness, leaving not even a trace of their souls behind.

"Guilliman! Rose! You've ruined my life!"

Vulcan now only wanted to get as far away as possible from those two terrifying orc ancestors behind him, and he no longer cared about how many greenskins he had trampled to death.

“I’m thinking…” Vulcan thought frantically as he ran.

"Wasn't I fusing that damned green stone in Mustafa's lab? How did I end up in this godforsaken place full of green-skinned monsters?"

"It's one thing to be all green-skinned... but how did we end up with those two orc gods, Brother Mao the Second?" He was completely unaware that his way of thinking and his wording had taken on a heavy orcish accent.

However, the speed at which Mao Erge was dealt with far exceeded his expectations.

They followed closely behind like maggots clinging to a bone, their enormous figures appearing and disappearing amidst the churning green tide. The terrifying sense of oppression, like the cold vacuum of the universe, gripped Vulcan's throat.

No matter how fast Vulcan ran, the edge of the divine realm seemed forever out of reach.

"Hey! Orc kid, where are you going?!" Mao's playful voice boomed like thunder in Vulcan's ears.
"This is the paradise for all orc boys after they die! The source of the great WAAAGH!" Mao Ge's voice was seductive. "Countless orcs would kill to get in, so why are you running away?!"

"Join us, and you have the potential to become the third Orc God. The WAAAGH within you is so pure it makes my mouth water. All you need is time."

"Come on, kid, join this eternal wrestling extravaganza!"

The way Mao Erge was singing in unison made Vulcan even more horrified. He wished that he would stay here for eternity and wrestle and fight with these two madmen.

If he were an orc, he would probably be overjoyed, considering it the greatest reward and blessing.

But he was human, the Primarch created by the Emperor himself, the genetic father of the Salamander Legion.

Vulcan's power cannot be replenished in the Orcish realm.

His body visibly shrank, his speed slowed down, and each step became unusually heavy.

In contrast, the second brother of the Mao tribe, blessed by the endless faith of the orcs, seemed to have inexhaustible power and moved without the slightest sluggishness.

"You coward, why are you so scared?"

Brother Gao's unrestrained laughter echoed throughout the divine realm, deafening like a storm of thunder.

The orc god has the support of countless orcish believers in his own divine realm, and he is completely comparable to the Chaos God.

Of course, outside the realm of the gods, they could not accomplish this astonishing feat.

Finally, Vulcan's size shrank to the size of Gorky's palm.

Brother Gao's huge, calloused, and scarred hands descended like a canopy, easily pinching the little one between his fingers.

"Huh? How did you get so small?"

"I don't understand," Gogo asked, observing Vulgan before him. "This orc kid clearly has powerful waaagh energy and an extremely powerful warp essence."

Mao snatched Vulcan from Gao Ge's hands. The mighty Primarch was treated like a toy that could be manipulated at will in the hands of the two orc gods.

"Fool! He's not just an orc, he's a human too!" Mao Ge cursed, sniffing Vulcan with his cunning nose and sharpening his eyes.

"He has... that awful smell of the Golden Giant." Mao's tone was full of surprise. "It's really fucking strange, there's actually something that's both human and one of us orcs?"

After incorporating the Waaagh energy crystal gifted by the Ancient Saints, even the Second Brother of the Gomao Sect could not distinguish whether Vulcan was an orc or not.

They just found the little guy very strange, leaving the beasts puzzled.

Vulcan felt the WAAAGH energy crystal given to him by the ancient saint within his body completely dim, like the core of a star that had exhausted all its energy. This was probably the reason why his body size had shrunk.

He tried desperately to find a way to escape this hellish place, but with Brother Mao right in front of him, even if he wanted to call on the Emperor for help, there was nothing he could do.

"What a damn disappointment! I thought I'd get another punching bag to cheer me up!" Gao Ge muttered in disappointment, tossing Vulcan back onto the ground like trash.

The more cunning Mao Ge kept circling around Vulcan, his eyes gleaming with greed and excitement, as if he had seen some rare treasure.

"Your true nature... is interesting!"

"You have the potential to become a god. If you continue to 'think like this,' one day you will become as strong as us, or even stronger!"

Mao Ge grinned, revealing jagged fangs: "I don't care if you're human or beastman, as long as you have the power of WAAAGH, you're our son, you're a beastman!"

"You need to continue to grow stronger. As long as countless orcs worship you, your power will only increase."

"You will become the Orc Emperor, but the Orc Emperor is definitely not your end..."

Mao lingered around Vulcan, as if summoned by something, and Gao, who had originally planned to leave, also returned to his original spot.

The two orc gods began to expand uncontrollably, opening their enormous mouths that seemed capable of swallowing galaxies.

Vulcan was horrified to see that deep within their throats, countless stars flickered and trembled between their enormous fangs, like tiny specks of dust.

A molten, raging orange-red WAAAGH energy erupted from Gao Ge's body.

A deep, eerie blue WAAAGH energy, resembling the icy ocean, rose from Mao Ge's body.

Two forces, representing the orcs' inherent violence and cunning, roared down like two giant dragons of energy onto Vulcan on the ground.

The orc gods recognized Vulcan's potential, and thus generously bestowed their blessings upon him.

They had long since realized the complete demise of the former orc emperor, Cork da Vinci.

Although Gao Mao Erge felt regret about this, that was all.

He was just an orc emperor, nothing in the eyes of the orc god.

From the War of Heaven to the present, more than 60 million years have passed in the galaxy. In this long period of time, how many orc emperors have appeared?

Countless.

The death of one Kork is just like losing a slightly larger toy.

But Vulcan was different. They saw within him the spark that could ignite a new divine fire, and they wanted to nurture it and bring it to life.

Vulcan was instantly submerged in the endless, violent, and chaotic torrent of WAAAGH faith.

That wasn't energy; it was a destructive spiritual storm formed from the most primal cries, the purest violent impulses, and the most cunning survival wisdom deep within the souls of billions of orcs.

His consciousness was torn apart and reshaped by this force. He saw himself transformed into a towering WAAAGH god, leading an endless green tide.

He trampled the Blood God's bronze arena, smashing those laughable rabbit-eared champions of Khorne into a bloody pulp; he watched as Tzeentch's crystal labyrinth crumbled amidst the roars of the orcish brats.

The Plague Gardens of Nurgle were devoured by the more savage orcish fungi; Slaanesh's Silver Palace was crushed to dust amidst the deafening WAAAGH war cries, and the disgusting filth concocted by the Prince of Pleasure was burned to ashes.

The entire High Heavens prostrated themselves at his feet, and all the orcs were frantically chanting Vulcan's name, their faith even surpassing that of the second brother, Gaumma.

The terrifying orcish faith, like a tsunami of molten lava, was eroding the dam of Vulcan's will.

Any slight wavering would cause the dam to collapse completely, dissolving his personality, memories, and everything that belonged to Vulcan, turning him into a part of the god WAAAGH.

This is also the most dangerous moment.

"No—!" Vulcan's soul roared silently in the eye of the storm, clinging with all his willpower to that last anchor of humanity:
"I am Vulcan, son of the Emperor, the genetic father of the Salamanders. I am here to wield the out-of-control war machines of the Orcs, to protect humanity, not to become one of the Orcs!"

"I cannot lose! My brothers are waiting for me, my legion is waiting for me, Nocturne is waiting for me!"

Vulcan felt as if he had returned to Nocturne, back to the forge where he had first started.

However, this time he was not the craftsman wielding the forging hammer, but the fiery raw material being constantly hammered and forged.

Mao's second brother used a torrent of faith to strike at Vulcan, wanting to completely forge the name "Vulcan" into the mold of "God of WAAAGH".

This was an invisible contest, but it was even more dangerous than the physical fight he had just had with Brother Gao.

The will of the Lord of Fire Dragons sank into the chaos. His immortality came from the hidden warp nature. Among his many Primarch brothers, only he possessed this powerful immortal ability.

Now, under the oppression of the orc gods, the hidden essence of Vulcan is showing signs of gradually awakening.

The orcs' waaagh energy and the warp essence are intertwined, conflicting, and mutually repelling.

Without Mao Zedong's personal intervention, these two completely incompatible forces would only attack each other and would never be able to coexist peacefully.

The real universe, Mustafa forges the world, the gene laboratory.

The piercing alarm had long since ceased, replaced by a suffocating silence.

The air was filled with ozone, burnt circuit boards, and a strange, indescribable smell, as if it came from the depths of subspace, a mixture of sulfur and rust.

The spot where Vulcan lay has long since formed a strange lake of metallic lava.

The adamantine floor beneath him was melted through, and the ultra-high temperature liquid metal that flowed out flowed and solidified on the floor, forming a strange, porous, silver-black basalt structure.

Those priceless, highly sensitive sensors, neural connectors, and life support lines had long since vanished in the initial energy burst, leaving only charred remains embedded in the cooled metal.

Barker Dylan, the foundry director, stood at a safe distance with his massive mechanical frame.

Countless cooling pipes extended from his back, spewing out white, low-temperature mist and hissing as they struggled to suppress the astonishing heat generated by Vulcan.

All the optical sensors on his body were locked onto the molten ruins at the center of the laboratory, and countless analytical data scrolled like a waterfall on his built-in screen.

The technical priests behind him were equally mesmerized, and none of them tried to salvage the damaged equipment. Faced with this living "miracle," the machines were nothing but useless scrap metal.

Guilliman and the other Primarchs, along with the other Space Marines, took a few steps back. The emergency systems in the laboratory immediately dug diversion channels on the ground to divert all the molten liquid metal to a safe place.

"If my estimation is correct, Vulcan may have stumbled upon his subspace nature during the fusion experiment."

Loshi spoke softly to Guilliman, while the Limit Lord simply clenched his fists, looking at Vulcan's condition with unease.

"All I care about is whether my brother can survive safely."

Dorne stood beside Guilliman like an unchanging rock, one hand pressing heavily on the shoulder armor of the Limit Lord, conveying a silent determination.

"Trust Vulcan; his resilience surpasses our imagination."

Peturab stood a little further away, his gaze so intense it seemed to melt and dismantle Vulcan.

He frantically calculated in his mind what kind of amazing reaction this incredible combination would produce.

A bitter thought suddenly arose in Guilliman's mind: "Could it be that my Macurag is incompatible with the Vulcan brothers?"

When he first arrived in Macurag, he directly crossed the atmosphere with his physical body, landing like a meteorite and being burned to a crisp by the extremely high temperature.

Later, after Vulcan was resurrected, he was killed again by a cult agent with a lightning-struck stone spear. He was then sent back to Nocturne before being resurrected.

Now Vulcan is facing a life-or-death crisis in Mustafa's experiment, and no one knows what the outcome will be.

"Perhaps next time, I shouldn't invite Vulcan to my territory. It would be better if I went to Nocturne instead," Guilliman thought to himself.

Rosie noticed that Guilliman beside her was starting to drift off into thought again, and immediately poked him in the back. Just then, in the very center of that fiery hellish laboratory, the crimson body trembled violently.

The gleam of molten steel covering Vulcan's body suddenly receded.

The terrifying heat seemed to be instantly pulled away by an invisible giant hand, and the raging heat wave in the laboratory vanished in an instant, replaced by a cold silence that seemed to freeze even the soul.

The porous metal that covered Vulcan's body, formed from the molten metal cooling, emitted a faint cracking sound.

A hand covered in strange, dark green skin suddenly emerged from the solidified silver-black metal.

Vulcan's upper body, like a giant awakening from an ancient seal, slowly sat up.

At this moment, Vulcan is entirely covered in a deep, restrained, dark green that seems to contain endless vitality.

The color is like the finest imperial jade, shimmering with a warm yet incredibly resilient luster under the dim emergency lights of the laboratory.

If you look closely, you can see that deep within that dark green skin, there is a faint, deep, eerie green light, like that of a furnace at the center of the earth.

"Am I... back?"

Vulcan raised his hand blankly and held it in front of his eyes.

The palm was still broad and thick, but the color and texture of the skin had become so unfamiliar.

He clenched his fist tightly, feeling the immense power surging between his muscle fibers, far exceeding anything he had ever experienced before, and a strange, indescribable feeling that seemed to be able to "distort" reality out of thin air.

He felt that he could do many incredible things if he wanted to.

The Fire Dragon Lord's memories were still stuck in the Orcish God Realm, at the last moment when that destructive torrent of faith washed over his soul.

When his gaze swept over the mess in the laboratory and finally landed on Guilliman's face, which was full of worry and guilt, Vulcan's tense nerves finally relaxed.

Yes, he is back.

He pulled through.

"Rosie, did I... succeed?"

Vulcan rose from the ruins, his voice still loud, but with a peculiar quality, as if carrying a slight echo.

"From what I can see, yes, you have completely fused with that ancient saint's WAAAGH energy crystal."

Rose's voice was filled with barely suppressed excitement as he strode forward, his gaze intently scrutinizing Vulcan's new form.

"But what exactly happened to you? Why did the scene turn out like this?"

Loshi also voiced the confusion of the forging director and other technical sages. Their faces were filled with a thirst for knowledge, but they had to suppress it due to their status as the Vulcan Primarch.

"What happened?"

Vulcan looked down at his dark green hands, then glanced around at the horrific scene. A complex expression crossed his face, a mixture of lingering fear and a hint of... barely perceptible embarrassment.

He took a deep breath, and the strange dark green light on his body flashed slightly. Instantly, a set of simple dark green armor made of pure energy, with a rough style but an exceptionally good fit, covered his naked body.

Although the Lord of Fire Dragons didn't mind being naked, there were so many people present, so he still had to consider the impact.

“My consciousness… was pulled into a place: a place full of green-skinned people, a place so green it was unsettling.” His tone became somewhat strange, with a hint of orcish accent. “I also saw… Brother Gao Mao.”

"I inexplicably tripped and fell with Brother Gao and Brother Mao, and then I ended up back here."

Vulcan's gaze darted away slightly, omitting some less-than-honorable details.

Out of absolute trust in Vulcan, his Primarch brother known for his tenacity and honesty, no one doubted the reservations in his words.

Guilliman let out a long sigh of relief, and Dorn's tense jawline relaxed a little.

Perturabo and Foundry Director Barker Dylan, like sharks smelling blood, focused their gazes even more intensely on Vulcan, especially on the energy armor that had appeared out of nowhere.

"How are you feeling now, my brother?"

Guilliman asked with concern, "Aside from the visible change in skin color, Vulcan seems to have remained unchanged."

In his mind, he had imagined that Vulcan would become as big and strong as the Kork orcs.

"How are you feeling?" Vulcan grinned, revealing a set of still-white teeth.

He stretched his muscles and bones, and his joints made a series of crackling sounds like the friction of fine metal bearings.

“I feel…power has never been so abundant!” He paused, a strange green light flashing in his eyes. “Moreover, I think I understand what I’m thinking, what true WAAAGH energy is.”

As if to confirm his words, Vulcan's gaze swept over a pile of wrecked instruments in the corner of the laboratory, melted and twisted beyond recognition by the high temperature.

He casually stretched out his dark green palm and grabbed at the pile of garbage in mid-air.

To everyone's astonishment, the parts from different devices that should have been completely destroyed—melted and deformed chips, broken cables, twisted metal casings, and shattered crystal lenses—were all drawn by an invisible force, rising from the ruins and rapidly spinning and reassembling around Vulcan's palm.

The casting director trembled all over; he couldn't believe that what he was seeing was real.

"This...this is impossible...it defies logic...Ohm Messiah above..."

The casting director's computational matrix crashed, leaving only unconscious binary whispers in his mind.

Vulcan was just "thinking" about needing something to measure points, and a few seconds later, an extremely bizarrely shaped instrument, with an orcish style and forcibly pieced together from various broken pieces, floated in his palm.

It emitted an unstable hum, several indicator lights flashed erratically, and a broken tube was hissing and sparking, but it was indeed running.

Guilliman frowned, and a thin anti-spiritual energy field instantly condensed at his fingertips as he carefully touched the strange "device".

Like a punctured balloon, the machine that I had "thought out" instantly emitted a plume of black smoke, the indicator lights went out, and the parts scattered all over the ground, turning back into a pile of useless junk.

“This is indeed the power of the Ork, no, this power is no longer exclusive to the Ork,” Guilliman said.

Even someone as composed as Dorn couldn't hide the shock on his face.

Peturabo's gaze was so intense that he seemed to want to melt Vulcan before carefully studying this incredible combination.

What strange chemical reaction will occur when the Primarch combines with the orc's waaagh power?

Curiosity and the thirst for knowledge tormented Perturabo's heart, as well as the processors of the Mechanicus sages.

Is Vulcan now able to integrate into the Gestalt mindset of the orcs? Will the other orcs accept Vulcan and regard him as their leader?

If so, can other fire salamanders also be used?

Could Vulcan's current skin tissue differentiate into new individuals directly in a suitable environment, like the Ork?

Will the Salamander Legion's gene seed undergo new mutations from now on?
If the salamander's genetic seed can inherit some beneficial mutations, the salamander army's numbers might explode, completely shaking off its embarrassing position as the smallest army.

No one dares to imagine whether it would be good or bad news for the Imperium if the Salamanders' Space Marines could reproduce at the same super-fast rate as the Orks.

But thinking too much is not as good as verifying it with facts.

The group immediately moved from the damaged gene laboratory to a site that was originally used to test the performance of the equipment.

The test site is located deep within the crust of Mustafa. It is a vast, open, domed space constructed of reinforced ceramic and plastic steel.

This place is powerful enough to withstand Titan-class firepower tests; the air is filled with the smell of coolant and ionized ozone.

Soon, a special "experimental subject" was transported in by a heavy-duty suspension platform.

This is the same beastly warlord who appeared at the Macurag triumph.

To prevent its terrifying self-healing ability, its body was covered with psionic suppression stakes that shimmered with an eerie blue light, making it look like a giant worm nailed to a specimen board.

The beast's head was the only part that could still turn slightly, its cloudy eyes filled with pain, humiliation, and death.

Immediately afterwards, another team of Ultra Warriors escorted dozens of sealed alloy cages into the arena.

Inside the cage were a group of Ork prisoners from the Ghoul Star Battlefield, who had been studied by the Mechanicus for a long time.

They were not subjected to torture, but long-term imprisonment, isolation, and unknown research had long since extinguished the greenskins' innate ferocity and vitality.

These orc boys had dull eyes and pale skin, like empty green shells drained of their souls. They huddled listlessly in the corner of the cage, unresponsive to the open cell door.

If they continue to be imprisoned, these Orks will likely die in despair.

"Sir, the goods you requested have arrived at their destination," the Ultramariner officer leading the team reported to Guilliman.

The Primarch calmly nodded, then signaled for the Ork people, who were imprisoned according to their clans and sizes, to be released and gathered in the center of the arena, facing the imprisoned beast warlord.

Multiple safety devices were activated in sequence, and the hissing of depressurized steam and the clanging of metal seemed to stimulate these numb green-skinned creatures.

A relatively tall orc, with rough totems of the Goff clan branded on his skin, looked around blankly, making muffled sounds.

"I'm wondering, what are these shrimps up to this time?"

"They're definitely going to torture us to death. Without fighting, this is no fun at all!"

“We have to find a way to escape. Even dying on the road is better than dying in the lab. There are only orcs who die in battle, not orcs who surrender,” another Bloodaxe clan orc whispered.

In the dimly lit environment, only the glaring searchlights moved back and forth, which seemed to be quite helpful for their escape.

"It's the Beast King!" the beastmen roared as they discovered the bound beast.

Because his psionic powers were suppressed, the beast could no longer use his incredible self-healing abilities to repair himself, and at this moment, even moving freely was a luxury for him.

When the green-skinned orcs saw their beast warlord meet such a miserable end, they wailed and cried, feeling deeply for their leader's humiliation.

The beast did not ask these Ork to rouse themselves; he had only one very simple request:

Kill me!

Rather than be tortured and humiliated by humans, a beast would rather be killed by its own offspring.

Humans get nothing from him except his corpse.

After receiving orders from their beast leader, the Orcs displayed different attitudes.

The vast majority of Orks refused to carry out the order. If it were just an Ork of a slightly higher rank than themselves, they might not have any psychological burden and would simply kill the other person and take their place.

But lying here is a beast, who has a genetically inherited suppression and influence over all the Orcs.

Beasts are at the pinnacle of social cohesion, second only to the Orc Emperor.

A few orcs gritted their teeth and resolutely walked towards the beasts. They had no weapons and could only use their sharp teeth and claws to bring the beasts relief.

The beast looked utterly miserable. He didn't know if these kids' weak attacks could kill him, but he had to give it a try anyway.

But at that moment, a faint yet incredibly clear sense of calling suddenly arose in the hearts of all the orcs.

The long-dormant WAAAGH energy within them is like a spark that has been ignited, stirring uncontrollably.

An irresistible impulse of submission and worship, originating from the depths of one's blood, instantly overwhelmed all numbness and fear.

Even the warlord, who looked like a dead beast, suddenly burst forth with an unbelievable light in his murky, lifeless eyes.

Its mutilated body convulsed violently, desperately trying to twist and turn towards the direction from which the calling came—that feeling… that feeling was…

The beast instantly abandoned its desire to die. With all its might, it writhed its mutilated body, trying to get closer to the direction of that calling.

If the orc emperor is still alive, then they still have a chance to turn the tide!
The beast's reason told it that humans must have killed Emperor Kirk on the Greenskins, otherwise they wouldn't have withdrawn their troops.

But this intense sense of calling was undeniable, and the beast preferred to believe that its emperor had faked his death through some means, fooled the humans, and then reappeared to save it.

He prayed fervently to his second brother, hoping that this faint hope was real.

Boom!Boom!Boom!
Heavy footsteps slowly emerged from the darkness. As the searchlights in the sky shone down, illuminating the narrow space, all the Orcs saw a tall figure approaching.

A tall, imposing figure, covered entirely in a deep, dark green hue, broke through the darkness and appeared beneath the pillar of light.

Like a giant sculpted from the finest imperial jade, his skin shimmered with a warm, resilient luster under the bright light.

At the boundary between light and darkness, the eerie green light emanating from the deep emerald green, like a furnace at the earth's core, adds an extraordinarily mysterious and majestic aura.

He stood there, needing no words, the WAAAGH energy emanating from his body like an invisible throne, causing the souls of all orcs to tremble.

"emperor!"

"Our Emperor!"

The orcs pounded their chests, exhaling all the air from their lungs, and let out a unified, deafening roar, calling upon their emperor.

Vulcan broke through the darkness and appeared before the many orcs.

His dark green face betrayed no emotion, only his deep eyes calmly watching the group of Orcs who were bowing down to him.

(End of this chapter)