Shipping goods from the game to the World of Warhammer

Chapter 67 What about my copyright fees?

Several backpacks arced through the air and landed at the feet of the orc lads who were still fighting the fanatics.

The closest group of orc lads was being forced back by a fanatic; if they retreated any further, they would turn into this pile of orc lads.

One of the orc boys caught a glimpse of the bulging backpack on the ground. Taking advantage of the moment when the Zealot sheathed his blade and adjusted his stance, the orc boy rolled to the side to dodge the next strike and scooped the backpack up from the ground.

It was less a matter of "putting on" and more a matter of forcing it in. The backpack straps were stretched across the orc's body, which was much wider than that of an ordinary human, and the metal buckles creaked and groaned, but at least they were in place.

The metal disc on the front of the backpack lit up with a buzzing sound.

A layer of green, semi-transparent force field spread outward from the surface of the disc, enveloping the orc's body and forming a thin film-like shield that covered his entire body.

Unlike the Zealot's stable and uniform plasma shield that emitted a calm blue light, this green force field was murky and rough, flickering and shaking every few seconds, and even occasionally emitting a crackling sound of electric arcs, looking like it could short-circuit and shut down at any moment.

But within three seconds of the orc boy putting on his backpack, the zealot who had caught up slashed at his chest.

When the psionic blade was about five centimeters from the orc's breastplate, the green force field suddenly brightened and collided head-on with the blade. The blue psionic energy and the green force field reacted as if two completely different energies were repelling and consuming each other; a ripple exploded at the point of contact, and the orc was pushed back three steps.

But its chest was intact.

"I'm fine!"

The orc boy glanced down at his unscathed chest, paused for about half a second, and then burst into deafening laughter. "Hahahaha! I'm not dead! Groz, you brat, you've got some skills!"

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It snatched the iron rod, which had been cut down to half, and hurled it back at the zealot in front of it with unprecedented force. The iron rod struck the plasma shield with a dull thud. Although it failed to break the shield, the huge impact still made the zealot stagger.

The remaining backpacks were snatched up by the other orc boys.

The struggle was naturally filled with orcish characteristics. Two orc boys of similar size grabbed the strap of the last backpack at the same time, neither of them letting go. They started wrestling on the spot under the zealot's light blade, punching each other and foreheads.

Until the slightly larger one bumped its opponent's nose, causing the opponent to stumble, it seized the opportunity to snatch the backpack and put it on itself.

The orc boy whose backpack had been stolen wasn't idle either. He picked up a machete that someone had dropped from the ground while cursing and charged towards the nearest fanatic.

With the waaaaaagh force field shield, the orc boys re-entered the center of the battlefield.

The pace of the battle began to change.

Previously, it was a simple matter of zealots charging and cutting down orcs, with new orcs falling to replace them. Now, those orc lads with backpacks can withstand at least two or three zealot blows. After the green force field is broken, as long as the orc is still alive and howling, the waaaaaagh energy will refill the force field within a few seconds. Although the force field will be weaker and the duration shorter each time it is restored, in a close-quarters melee, those extra few seconds are enough for them to swing their clubs several times.

An orc boy wearing a backpack collided head-on with a zealot. The green force field and plasma shield shattered almost simultaneously, and both were thrown several meters away. The zealot's shield recovered within a second, while the orc boy's force field took nearly ten seconds to light up again, during which time the metal disc vibrated, almost making it seem like it was about to explode.

But it didn't explode, at least not this time.

The fanatics' offensive remained fierce, each swing of their light blades precise and deadly. The shields' endurance and stability far surpassed those of the orcs' knock-offs. However, the orcs were no longer being unilaterally sliced ​​apart as before. With a few seconds of respite, they began to organize the most basic counterattacks.

Two orc lads attacked a zealot from the front and back. The one in front drew the zealot's attention, its green force field crackling and reforming repeatedly under the continuous slashes of the light blade. The one behind circled around to the flank, wielding a green-skinned power hammer picked up from the ground, and delivered a heavy blow to the zealot's back. The plasma shield withstood the attack, flickering a few times but not shattering. The zealot turned and forced the attacker back with a single strike, but this turn gave the orc lad in front a moment to catch his breath.

Inside the bridge of the Christina, Rhodes was using his psionic link and the Zealot's perception to survey the battlefield inside the orcish megalith.

He saw the flickering, but definitely functioning, green waaaaaagh force field shield.

Rhodes' face nearly contorted with rage.

How long has it been? From the moment the Zealots warped into the Orcish boulder until now, it's been no more than a few minutes. In eight minutes, these green-skinned tech geniuses have completed the entire process from observation and analysis to design, manufacturing, and deployment in actual combat, replicating the Zealots' plasma shield system.

Although it uses the waaaaaagh force field instead of psionic energy, and its outer shell is made of scrap metal instead of alloy plates, this thing truly replicates the Zealot's shield on the battlefield.

This is also the racial talent of the Greens that gives all races in the galaxy a major headache.

After each battle, the skilled young greens would retreat to their workshops and, relying on their memories of the battle and some intuition that they themselves couldn't explain, replicate the enemy's equipment and technology.

Without blueprints, formulas, or theoretical foundations, the tech-savvy kid can start building it with just one glance.

The products made are different in appearance and materials, and the workmanship is crude, making the other party faint on the spot, but in terms of function, they can achieve 70-80% or even higher of the original.

The only drawback is that it is not very stable in operation. For example, if the force field direction is reversed while it is turned on, it may launch the user into the air, or it may overload and explode, blowing the user and the people around them into the air.

But the green-skinned ones don't care about any of that.

You can use it.

And Rhodes cares about it very much now.

If these greenskinned bandits, who belong to no clan, escape today, given their learning speed and reproductive capacity, their enemies will face something quite different the next time they meet—

A green-skinned boy wearing a waaaaaagh psionic energy field shield.

A green-skinned boy wielding a replica psionic light blade powered by waaaaaagh energy.

A green-skinned boy who can teleport to a fixed point by replicating the Crystal Tower.

The green-skinned kid who can teleport back after being seriously injured, repair himself, and then teleport back to continue fighting.

Moreover, each battle will make the greenskins' waaaaagh energy field stronger and their inspiration more abundant. These imitations will only get closer and closer to the original's performance, and these greenskins will only get stronger and stronger with each battle.

No.

Absolutely not.

He opened the system store panel in his consciousness.

Probe again. Fanatics, increase the dosage.

He, the wandering merchant Rhodes, must take down this orcish behemoth today, along with every single greenskin on it.

Not a single one can escape.

Rhodes frantically confirmed the exchange within his consciousness. Universal energy flowed away like water, and dozens of probes directly warped into the interior of the orcish megalith.

These small, golden floating machines are scattered throughout every rock wall passage and every cave chamber of the megalith, and they begin to work as soon as they find a space that can barely fit the crystal tower.

Blue beams of light projected onto the ground, distorting and condensing space. One after another, suspended crystal towers rose from every corner of the orcish megalith, their petal-shaped armor slowly unfolding and rotating. Blue psionic pulses spread along the network between the crystal towers, gradually weaving a warp network belonging to the Protoss within the entire orcish megalith.

As soon as the Crystal Towers were deployed, hordes of fanatics leaped out from the base of each tower.

Meanwhile, the probes that had completed the deployment of the crystal towers were not idle either.

They drifted to the junction of passages near the Crystal Tower, next to the orc ammunition pile, and even directly to the entrance of the Greenskin Workshop. Blue beams of light pierced down again, but this time, instead of the Crystal Tower, they warped out golden disc-shaped photon turrets. Above the discs floated a blue sphere, locking onto the nearby orcs.

The turret automatically entered attack mode the moment it completed its warp. The sphere rotated, locked onto the nearest green-skinned target, and then a fist-sized blue energy ball shot out from the sphere, accurately hitting an orc boy charging towards it in the chest. The antimatter sphere exploded upon impact, ripping the orc off his iron armor and sending him crashing into the rock wall behind him.

The battle inside the orcish megalith was completely out of control.

In some areas, a group of orc boys howled and surrounded a photon turret that had just been warped. They rained blows of machetes and iron bars at the golden disc, and it took several orcs working together to flip the turret off its base. The disc crashed to the ground and shattered into pieces.

But when they looked back, the probe next to them leaped out of a second turret a dozen meters away, and the blue energy ball was already flying towards them.

In the deeper main passages, the melee between zealots and orc boys continued, but this time the number of zealots was no longer just a few scattered individuals. Groups of zealots leaped out from various crystal towers, forming groups of three to five, and, with Kara's coordination, they tacitly cut into the orc ranks.

In the command room of the Orcish Giant Rock, a green figure, a full one and a half times larger than an ordinary orc, stood up from the command chair welded from scrap iron.

This is the captain of the orcish behemoth, and also the leader of this band of pirates.

A black pirate hat, not too small, was perched crookedly on his head. The hat was clearly several sizes too small for his head, but it was firmly nailed to the skin on both sides of his skull by two thick iron nails, so that it could not be blown off by the wind or knocked off by force.

His two enormous, protruding lower jaw teeth were twice as thick as those of an ordinary orc boy, and both teeth were covered with gold leaf, gleaming in the dim light of the command room.

"Boss! They've broken in from outside! Those glowing things have teleported into our ship! They're everywhere!" An orc boy tumbled into the command room, his body still covered in soot from the psionic blades.

The captain's reaction was neither anger nor panic.

He grinned, revealing his two gold-plated fangs, and laughed.

"Great! Saves me the trouble of sending it over! They've delivered it to our doorstep!"

He grabbed his weapon from beside the command chair: a giant machine gun almost as big as him, its ammunition belts extending from the side of the gun to a metal box full of ammunition on his back, which was strapped to the captain's broad back with two leather straps.

With his other hand, he grabbed a giant cleaver, two sizes larger than an ordinary orc cleaver. The blade was covered with crooked orc runes and had many nicks, each nick representing a plundering success.

"Get out of my way!"

The captain, carrying a machine gun, kicked open the iron door of the command room. The door flew off the hinges and crashed into the opposite rock wall. He strode forward with his strong legs and charged towards the direction of the fiercest battle. The orc lads passing by were all inspired by his momentum and followed behind him, howling.

"Waaaaaagh!!!"

On the other side of the Orcish monolith, in a spacious cavern chamber recently cleared by the Zealots, the last new crystal tower completed its warp, its petal-shaped armor unfolding, and the blue pulse and warp network connecting.

Several figures emerged from the light at the base of the crystal tower, but this time the figures were not fanatics.

Their figures are more slender than those of the fanatics, with smooth and elegant lines. Light armor conforms to the contours of their bodies, and the color scheme is a blend of gold, white, and blue.

Each warrior wields a uniquely designed weapon that resembles a small shield, but with sharp blades extending from its edges. A short-barreled energy cannon is embedded in the center, combining blade and cannon for both offense and defense.

They positioned themselves just behind the fanatics' ranks, not rushing into the front lines.

The lead soldier raised his bladed cannon, aiming it at the howling coming from the far end of the passage, where dust was billowing and a group of green-skinned men were charging towards them.

She moved with lightning speed, and a semi-transparent psionic ghostly figure floated forward from her position, sweeping straight along the passage towards the orcs' charge. The ghostly figure's outline was exactly the same as her own, almost indistinguishable from the real thing in the dim light of the orcish boulder.

The orc boys at the front saw the figure drifting over and instinctively fired at it. The bullets passed through the ghostly figure's body but hit nothing. The ghostly figure continued to drift forward unharmed, like mist.

Just as the orcs were confused, a blinding blue beam of light shot out from where the ghostly figure had passed, accurately striking the head of an orc boy in the charging ranks. The energy exploded the moment of contact, and the orc fell to the ground without even uttering a sound.

The apostle had already teleported to the ghost's location, and the blade cannon's muzzle was still emitting a residual blue light.

Without pausing, she swiftly moved into the shadows of the passage's side wall. The next second, another ghostly figure emerged from a new location and drifted toward the other side of the orcish charging column.

The orcs turned to chase the ghostly figure, but the beam of the blade cannon shot from the exact opposite direction, taking down another greenskin.

The Apostles' fighting style is completely different from that of the Zealots. They do not charge into enemy lines for melee combat, but instead use psionic teleportation to constantly change positions on the battlefield, using blade cannons for precise long-range strikes. They immediately relocate after each shot, with ghostly figures and their true forms appearing alternately, making it impossible for the enemy to tell which is the real target.

However, the orc captain carrying the giant machine gun also arrived at the battlefield inside the giant rock.

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