Shipping goods from the game to the World of Warhammer

A blinding blue-white light exploded in the very center of the orcish crowd. The intense light even overshadowed the crooked lamps inside the orcish megalith, forcing several orcish lads who were closest to instinctively raise their arms to shield their eyes.

After the light faded, a crystal floated about one meter above the rocky ground.

The crystal shimmered with a soft, ethereal blue light, surrounded by several petal-like armor plates that were evenly distributed like flower petals and slowly rotated around the crystal body.

Each piece of armor is etched with intricate patterns, almost invisible to the naked eye, shimmering faintly under the blue light. The entire crystal is suspended steadily in mid-air without any support, base, or cables.

"What's this?"

"have no idea!"

"Is it edible?"

A dozen orc boys crowded around, their curious heads forming a circle, just like when they had gathered around the golden floating machine before. Their large green faces were almost pressed against the crystal armor plates, and several hands were already reaching out, eager to touch the beautiful, glowing contraption.

But the tech-savvy kid Groz didn't join in.

He squatted down next to the teleportation platform, squinting at the crystal for several seconds. He was one of the many craftsmen among the Orcs. Although the things he made looked outrageously crude, he still had a beast-like intuition about "what this thing came from".

This crystal isn't orcish in style.

Orcish artifacts are typically rough, large, and loud, ideally producing sparks and black smoke. But this thing before them was exquisitely crafted, its smooth surface without a single weld mark—completely contrary to orcish aesthetics.

It does resemble the style of those tin cans somewhat.

Groz opened his mouth, wanting to tell the group of orc boys who had surrounded him to back off.

But it was too late.

The blue light of the crystal suddenly brightened, and several smaller spatial distortions bloomed almost simultaneously on the ground around the crystal. Each distortion point was rapidly condensing into shape, and then in an instant...

Several figures stepped out from the light.

Their builds were similar to the orc boys, their bodies covered in streamlined gold and blue armor, the surface of which was also etched with intricate patterns similar to those on crystal armor. Helmets covered nearly half of their faces, revealing only pairs of eyes burning with eerie blue psionic energy behind their visors.

What is most striking are the weapons on their arms. They are not knives or swords, but two scorching blue light blades extending from their wrist armor. The surface of the light blades looks like liquid flames that are constantly flowing, and the shadows cast on the ground by the light blades are slightly distorted.

The lead warrior took his first step through the warp light, raised the light blades on his arms, and let out a high-pitched shout that echoed through the orcish monolith:

"En Taro Adun! Embrace the glory of battle!"

Without hesitation, they charged straight at the nearest orc boy, the enhanced pulses erupting from their leg armor propelling their sprint to a speed imperceptible to the naked eye, leaving behind a trail of afterimages.

And those orc boys reacted incredibly quickly.

To be precise, it's not that they react quickly, but that they don't need to react at all.

Something's rushing over? Rushing over means a fight? If it's going to fight, then what are we waiting for?

"Waaaaaagh!!!"

A dozen orc boys simultaneously unleashed deafening howls, wielding machetes, iron bars, hastily assembled power hammers, and one orc even threw a half-eaten piece of jerky at the other side before pulling out his pistol and charging forward while firing.

The open space around the teleporter instantly transformed into a chaotic battlefield.

The first orc boy to charge forward swung a chipped machete at the leading fanatic. The machete fell with a whistling sound, but was deflected by a pale blue, semi-transparent light barrier some distance from the opponent's shoulder armor. The orc boy's arm went numb from the recoil, and he almost dropped the machete.

That light barrier is a plasma shield, which uses an energy field to neutralize or deflect damage before ranged firepower and melee attacks reach the armor itself.

The fanatics' counterattack came almost at the same instant.

A blue light blade traced an arc from below, precisely slicing through the orc boy's machete. The cut was smooth as a mirror, without sparks or the sound of metal clashing. The machete, which had served the orc in countless battles, was thus split in two, the metal edges at the break still glowing with a dark red heat.

The claim that a psionic blade can cut through matter of any density is not an exaggeration.

With the second strike, the light blade sliced ​​into the orc boy's waist armor, slicing through the crookedly fastened iron armor along with the thick green flesh inside. The orc was knocked to the ground, twitching twice before going still.

The orc boy next to him pulled out his pistol and opened fire on the zealot. The bullets clattered against the plasma shield, bouncing off like pebbles thrown at bulletproof glass. The zealot didn't even slow down, rushing straight through the barrage of bullets, his arms flashing light blades left and right, slicing down two orcs in succession.

The other zealots also joined the battle. Their teamwork was incredibly smooth. One zealot drew fire from the front, his shield absorbing the orcs' bullets and machetes, while another flanked from the side, his light blade cutting into the blind spots of the orcs' weapons with clean, swift strikes.

The orc's rapid-fire attacks had almost no effect on the plasma shield. His machete and iron bar were either cut by the light blade or bounced off the shield when they hit it. The orc boy's own body was almost completely unprotected in the face of the psionic light blade.

The battlefield situation quickly became one-sided.

The orc lads outnumbered the zealots and were much larger, but their equipment and combat skills were vastly inferior. The greenskins retreated step by step against the zealots' charge, leaving the rocky ground littered with the bodies of orcs and the shattered remains of their weapons.

But green skin is green skin.

Even though they were being utterly defeated, not one of them turned to run away. Every orc boy howled and charged forward, one falling only to be replaced by another. They had no idea how to spell "retreat".

Although most of the time they really can't write.

Just as the battle was about to turn into a one-sided massacre, a series of clanging sounds came from the workshop of the tech-savvy kid, Gruz.

Groz retreated to its workshop the moment the Zealots appeared, not out of fear, but because the instant it saw those blue light blades and plasma shields, its eyes lit up with a fanatical light shared by all tech enthusiasts, a light that meant only one thing: I want to copy one.

At that moment, the iron gate of the workshop was kicked open from the inside, and Gruz leaned out, holding four or five bulging backpacks in his arms. The design style of those backpacks was still pure Ork aesthetics, with rough surfaces and iron buckles, and crooked welds, but each backpack had a palm-sized metal disc embedded in the front, and a faint force field shimmered on the disc.

The force field was green, completely different from the blue of the Zealot Plasma Shield. It exuded a rugged aura unique to the Orc waaaaaagh force field, and these green force fields flickered, looking like they could short-circuit at any moment.

"Here you go! Put them on!" Gruz yelled at the orc boys who were getting beaten up outside, then threw the backpacks onto the battlefield.