Chapter 36: Prophetic Gob

Right in the dead centre of the city stood the statue of Gork and Mork. It was built by Darrius and his Boyz right before he locked himself away to manufacture the tunnel boring machine. Back then, it had only been slathered in regular paint, lacking the proper gold to give it a gilded finish.

To figure out exactly what was going on, Darrius triggered his kustom tellyporta for the third time. When he materialized in the central area, the sight that met his eyes was etched into his memory forever.

Draped in garments that would be considered bizarre even by Greenskin standards, Kukka and a dozen Weirdboyz were dancing and bellowing songs at the top of their lungs beneath the golden, glowing halo of the statue of Gork and Mork!

"Gork sed get BIG!" Kukka roared.

Tens of thousands of Ork Boyz below thundered in unison, "BIG!!"

"Mork sed WAAAGH!"

The Boyz and Grotz shrieked back, "WAAAGH!!"

"We'ze da proppa Green'uns, buildin' Gork an' Mork's shrine..." Kukka thrust the microphone out toward the massive crowd.

"High an' mighty fine!!" The horde bellowed back, their voices fueled by an intense, ecstatic frenzy.

"An' make it proppa WAAAAGH!!!"

The atmosphere of the concert was completely explosive. Even the monolithic statue of Gork and Mork seemed to sway and rock under the flashing, multi-colored spotlights.

Shouldn't concerts be hosted by pretty, dress-wearing anime girls? Darrius thought, bewildered. How did it end up being Kukka and this bunch of eye-searingly ugly greenskins?

No, wait... Orks and pretty girls crossing paths would never clear the censors anyway. Drop it, drop it.

Eyeball-searing outfits aside, the songs Kukka and the Boyz were chanting were undeniably catchy, perfectly synchronized with the nature and culture of the Greenskins. What shocked Darrius most was that the pronunciation of "Gork" and "Mork" within the lyrics was delivered in pure, unadulterated English!

Combined with that shimmering golden halo crowning the heads of Gork and Mork, it felt as though something monumentally absurd had transpired while he was cooped up in isolation.

Interrupting the concert was out of the question. When a crowd of Boyz got their blood pumping like this, they could tear through Space Marines or an Imperial Baneblade with nothing but their choppas. Even as the Warboss, Darrius knew better than to ruin the Boyz' fun.

Standing at a towering five meters, Darrius was quickly spotted by the nearby Boyz, who immediately dragged him into the revelry. Smarty came buzzing over, piloting his flight-capable power armor.

"Boss Sneaky is da best! Boss Sneaky Waaagh! Followin' Boss Sneaky, always 'avin' a laugh!"

Finishing his rhythmic tongue-twister, Smarty touched down right by Darrius's heel, behaving like the ultimate loyal lackey.

"Why are ya still taggin' along behind me? Wiv dat suit of powa armor, regular Boyz are no match fer ya. Ya cud ezily be a Boss yerself an' lead yer own mob," Darrius asked, looking down at Smarty.

Ork society was loosely structured. Aside from uniting under a single, dominant Warlord, individual Orks would command their own Boyz or pledge allegiance to the second-strongest Boss. As long as the Boyz had fun and plenty of action under a leader, they would follow him, until that leader kicked the bucket or proved too weak, at which point someone else would krump their way to the top.

"I loike Boss Sneaky. Boss Sneaky takes me ta charge, ta foight! Boss Sneaky lets me kommando da warships an' drop big gunz on da humie 'eads! Boss Sneaky built me dis flyin', smashin' armor. I just loike followin' Boss Sneaky," Smarty declared without a shred of hesitation. "Cuz followin' Boss Sneaky is fun, wild, an' WAAAGH!"

Darrius knew that Smarty was a scheming git, no less cunning than himself. The creature probably had more sneaky tricks rattling in his brain than anyone else; when Smarty scammed other Orks out of their teef, he never used the same lie twice.

But this time was different. Smarty actually seemed to be speaking from the heart, a rare instance of genuine truth from the mouth of this devious creature.

With a heavy thwack, Darrius cuffed Smarty to the ground. "Den you'ze betta keep up. If ya fall behind, I'm not waitin' fer ya."

Smarty didn't get angry at being flattened. He scrambled back up, dusting himself off, and trotted happily after him.

Eventually, Darrius allowed himself to melt into the jubilant atmosphere, cheering and singing along with the Ork Boyz. For the first time since his transmigration, he felt completely relaxed, venting his pent-up stress without restraint.

Living like a human brought nothing but endless anxiety. Living like a Greenskin meant eating when you wanted to eat, singing when you wanted to sing, and fighting when you wanted to fight… pure, unadulterated bliss.

Once the concert wrapped up, Darrius took a solid rest and slept soundly before tracking down Kukka to interrogate him about what exactly had happened during his absence.

"Boss Sneaky, dat Inglis is da most majikal, most killy sound I evva heard," Kukka said, still swaying and dancing as he answered. "Afta ya left, I kept practicin' da sounds I caught wiv my psychic engine."

"At furst, da uvva Boyz fought I'ze just goin' weird again. Den, I told 'em da second phrase of Inglis you taught me. Nofink happened for da furst two days."

"But den, da magik words actually worked! A bunch of Boyz said dey suddenly got loads of mecha-know-wot trackin' in dere brains, but dey cudn't make da shootas an' gear work right. So dey came findin' me wiv dere questions."

At this, Kukka puffed out his chest, bursting with pride. "I told 'em, dis is da Holy Word learned from Mork's Chosen, Boss Sneaky, by Gork an' Mork's own prophet, Kukka! It's got da powa ta make fings real, so long as ya believe it 'ard enuff."

"Afta dat, dem gitz showed absolute mad kunnin' wiv machines! In dere own words, dere brains kept poppin' out endless blueprints. If dey didn't build 'em, it hurt; da more dey built, da better it felt!"

"Da fame of da Holy Word spread fast among da Boyz. Curious gitz kept comin' ta find me. Sumtayms I gave 'em da first phrase, sumtayms da second. Bit by bit, da fings da Holy Word talked about became real! Moar an' moar Mekboyz started poppin' up, an' even Gork an' Mork's statue grew a shiny gold ring!"

Kukka bared his teef in a wide, wicked grin. "Dat ent all, Boss. Wenuvva I shout 'Gork' an' 'Mork' in Inglis while dancin', I feel like I'ze touchin' sumfin' incredibly big an' 'ard in da Warp."

"Boss Sneaky, I wanna lern moar Inglis."

Darrius panicked internally. Oh hell no, this can't be taught recklessly. If he taught them random phrases and the Orks started spouting them blindly, things would devolve into absolute chaos.

An entire population equipped with reality-warping "prophetic gobs" … he didn't know what kind of nightmare world that would create, but it would guaranteed cause catastrophic devastation. The material universe's laws could never keep up with the chaotic flexibility of language; an imbalance like that would trigger a total systemic collapse.

"Next taym... next taym. English iz vast an' deep; itz mysteries kannot be mastered so ezily. Wen da taym iz roight, I will teach ya moar."

After brushing Kukka off with a vague excuse, Darrius teleported away instantly, giving the Weirdboy no chance to utter another word.

On the bright side, the sudden surge of Mekboyz meant they could drastically scale up production capacity. Drills, weapons, and mining operations could now be conducted simultaneously. Moreover, he could enlist a squad of these newly spawned Mekboyz to act as his assistants, accelerating the construction of the boring machine.

Five days later, beneath the gleaming, radiant statue of Gork and Mork, a ferocious and imposing tunnel boring machine measuring twenty meters in diameter stood completed.

"Boss, wot's dis fing? Wot's it do?" asked an uncomprehending Ork Boy, scratching his head.

The term "tunnel boring machine" definitely didn't fit the Greenskin aesthetic, and using such a dull name might make the Orks reluctant to operate it.

"Dis fing is called da Big Digga," Darrius announced, renaming the machine with something loud and catchy. "It's sumfin' bigga, moar brutal, an' way moar Waaagh! dan a regular powa drill. It's da Big Digga dat can bore troo any zoggin' mountain in da world!"