Shipping goods from the game to the World of Warhammer

The interior of the Orcish behemoth is less like the cabins of a warship and more like a junkyard crammed into a hollowed-out asteroid.

The rock face was covered with crooked metal plates, some of which were armor fragments salvaged from some unfortunate ship, and others were simply old, flattened engine shells hammered into the rock with rivets as thick as fists.

If the uneven, rocky ground could still be called ground, then the surface of this warship was littered with shell casings, oil stains, and several pieces of half-eaten, unidentified jerky.

Beside the platform of the teleporter, a group of orc boys were crowded around the workshop of the tech-savvy boy. Their thick, green muscles were covered with rough skin and various scars, most of which were from battles, some from fights, or simply self-inflicted for fun and excitement. They clutched all sorts of melee weapons—machetes, iron bars, and power hammers made of steel pipes with stones strapped to them—and had simple orc pistols tucked into their belts. They impatiently barked at the tech-savvy boy inside the workshop who was fiddling with the control levers.

"Hey! When's my turn?!" A burly orc boy slapped his chest with the back of his machete, making a dull thud. "Those kids have been gone for ages! What if the battle's over by the time we get there?!"

"That's right! I'm going to chop someone up! I can't wait any longer!" Another orc stomped his foot, making the spent cartridge cases on the ground bounce.

The tech-savvy kid didn't even look up. It was squatting to the side of the teleportation platform, its two thick, green hands rummaging through a tangled mess of wires, a piece of wire dangling from its mouth as if it were a soldering rod. It mumbled back, "Hurry, hurry, hurry! It's overheating, you know! If you hurry any longer, I'll shove it in and send it flying into the wall!"

Despite their complaints, the orc lads' anxiety was genuine. For the greenskins, fighting was the meaning of life. When there was no battle, they would fight their own people. But now, there was a lively boarding battle taking place next door, and they could only squat here and wait. This was even more unbearable than being beaten up.

Just as the orc lads were about to start fighting each other because they couldn't wait any longer, a faint buzzing sound drifted from the rock wall passage behind the teleportation platform.

The sound was very soft, so soft that it was almost negligible in the orcish boulders where the sounds of metal clashing and howling filled the air. But its frequency was stable and rhythmic, completely different from all the rough and noisy noise around it.

A small machine slowly floated out from around the corner of the passage.

It hovered about half a meter above the ground, its entire body covered in a smooth, golden shell that reflected a soft sheen under the dim light of the orcish megalith. It wasn't large, not even as tall as an average human; to the orcish boys who considered humans tiny, it was as small as a toy.

In its center is a blue halo that emits a faint blue glow. It slowly rotates like an eye, occasionally contracting and rotating, as if it is observing its surroundings.

The machine made no sound except for a low, humming hum as it floated quietly at the entrance of the passage, its blue aura aimed at the group of orc boys.

The first to notice it was Tech Boy, the green-skinned engineer who looked up from the pile of wires, his mouth slightly open with a wire between his teeth, his small eyes staring at the golden floating machine with a rare look of confusion on his face.

"Hey, Gruz," a young orc nudged the tech-savvy kid with his elbow, gesturing with his chin towards the machine, "that's how you made that thing?"

The tech-savvy kid spat the wire out of his mouth and shook his head: "It's not mine. I don't make this kind of thing."

It stared at the golden machine for a few more seconds, its rough brows furrowing together: "I don't know where this thing came from either."

This answer made the surrounding orc boys temporarily forget their anxiety about waiting for the teleportation. Their attention was completely drawn to the small machine that had fallen from the sky. A dozen burly green figures formed a semicircle, surrounding the golden floating object in the middle.

For orcs, unfamiliar things fall into only two categories: those they can fight and those they can't.

"Can this thing fight?" A young orc tilted his head and examined it for a long time before asking the first question that all orcs ask when they encounter something new.

No one answered it, so it decided to verify it itself.

A thick, green finger shot out and stabbed without hesitation at the blue halo in the center of the machine.

The moment the fingertip touched the edge of the aperture, a thin, hair-like blue ray shot out from it, precisely slicing through the skin of the green fingertip, leaving a shallow wound from which a trickle of dark green blood seeped out.

"Awooo!" The orc roared, instinctively pulling his finger back and sucking on it.

But after the pain subsided, its face didn't show anger, but rather a bewildered curiosity. It took its finger out of its mouth, looked down at the shallow cut that was barely a wound, then looked up at the golden machine, its eyes filled with confusion.

"That's it?" It turned to look at the tech-savvy kid, Gruz. "Just sliced ​​me once? What tech savvy kid would make something like this? It doesn't even make a sound, not cool at all."

Groz was also bewildered. It had made at least eight hundred, if not a thousand, weapons, from rockets that could blow itself away to heavy cannons that would fall apart after a single shot. Every one of them was designed to be loud, flashy, and ideally, it could also blow up the surrounding objects. But this little golden thing that was quietly floating in mid-air and only shooting out a thin line was completely out of line with the aesthetics and design logic of any orc master.

A dozen pairs of small green eyes stared intently at the golden machine, their eyes filled with confusion.

The machine, which was being watched by more than a dozen orcs, seemed to sense the gazes around it. Its blue aura slowly contracted, and then it spun around a few times in place, its movements light and fluid, almost playful.

The beastmen tilted their heads and watched it spin around, even more confused.

After completing a full circle, the golden machine stopped, and the blue halo refocused on the group of beastmen surrounding it, its brightness slowly increasing.

A thicker and brighter blue beam of light shot out from the aperture, but this time it didn't hit any of the orcs; instead, it struck the rocky ground right in the center of the orc group.

The moment the beam of light touched the ground, a pale blue ripple began to emanate from that point. At the center of the ripple, space began to distort, as if something extremely heavy was being forcibly pulled from another place. The surrounding light was bent, forming a visible spherical distortion area.

The tech-savvy kid, Groz, stared wide-eyed, his mouth agape, not even noticing the wire he was holding fall to the ground.

"What's this?"

As soon as it finished speaking, the rubble and spent cartridges on the ground were pushed outwards by some kind of force field, and the spherical distortion continued to expand, with the spatial distortion spreading outwards at an increasingly faster speed.