Raynor had considered using brute force—leveraging the combined strength of the three clans to forcibly conquer one of the holdouts and tear through the "Arc of Resistance."
However, Siss firmly disagreed. His duty was to act as the overseer sent by Ragnar. His core mission was to restrict Chandler's influence and maintain the stability of Karl-2, not to trigger an all-out civil war prematurely. Once a war of that scale broke out, the entirety of Karl-2 would descend into chaos, and he would be unable to provide a satisfactory explanation to Ragnar, who was far away on Dolido. Raynor had no choice but to abandon that idea.
Meanwhile, the Bad Moons Clan, the wealthiest and most established clan on Karl-2, maintained a neutral, wait-and-see attitude. They conducted business with Siss's camp, selling rare metals and weapons to the Hokage Clan and leasing Mek Boyz to Raynor. Simultaneously, they traded with the Deathskulls, providing raw materials to Chandler's workshops. Offending neither side allowed them to profit from both. Regardless of who emerged victorious, they were guaranteed a win.
Raynor didn't intend to move against them either; the Bad Moons had deep roots, and forcing them toward Chandler's side would be more trouble than it was worth.
But even with his expansion stalled, Siss's prestige reached an unprecedented peak following the recent campaigns. The Greenskins of Karl-2, who initially viewed him only as a "psyker monster" sent by Ragnar—a freak who hid behind the scenes—now spoke of "Boss Siss" on every street corner.
They said Boss Siss was the one who led them to repel the double-pronged human assault. They said Boss Siss was the one who exterminated the ghost-like Tyranid swarm. They said Boss Siss was the one who held Karl-2. Compared to Chandler, who remained in secluded meditation and never showed his face, Siss was the true Boss leading them in battle and directing the Waaagh!.
And the Greenskin Waaagh! field was always the most honest indicator. The more the Boyz believed someone was "Waaagh!" and the more they worshipped them, the more that individual could draw immense power from the field that gathered the mysterious energy of the entire race.
Within the core zone of Karl-2, Siss sat alone on a vast seat, his eyes closed as he felt the swirling green psychic energy around him. He could clearly perceive that his psychic intensity had nearly doubled compared to a month ago. A psychic storm that once required his full concentration and delicate effort to release could now be formed with a single thought.
He could now use his psychic power to guide a floating metal nail precisely through a keyhole hundreds of meters away. His fine control over psychic energy had reached an unprecedented level.
He slowly opened his eyes and looked at his palms. The green psychic energy flowed through him like water, a warm and vast power coursing through his channels to every corner of his body. This was the first time in his life he had experienced such a sensation.
From the day his psychic powers awakened, he had been an outcast. Other Greenskin Boyz marginalized and feared him, calling him an abnormal freak. It wasn't until Ragnar discovered him during a Waaagh! that he found a place to belong. From then on, he was content to be the sharpest blade in Ragnar's hand, the green leaf behind the blossom. He had always stood in the shadows, never in the sunlight.
He had never been worshipped by so many Boyz. Nor had he ever felt the pleasure of being enveloped by the Waaagh! field, where power surged into him incessantly. This feeling was like a man used to drinking the lowest-grade sorghum wine suddenly tasting the nectar fit for an emperor. One sip was enough to make one intoxicated, unable to pull away. This was a temptation no Ork could resist.
He looked down at the Big Bosses of the three clans standing respectfully in the palace. So many powerful Greenskins had to await his commands. He looked at the Greenskins of the entire planet cheering for him.
A switch deep in his heart was flipped at that moment. He had originally intended only to complete Ragnar's mission: hold Karl-2 and limit Chandler's ambition. But now, feeling the power surging within him and seeing the clans surrendering to him alongside the ever-growing Waaagh! field, a thought grew uncontrollably in his mind like wild grass.
Why should he only be a blade in someone else's hand? Boss Ragnar needed a capable general to watch over Karl-2. Why couldn't he, Huge-Foot Siss, be that general?
The cool moonlight shone through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of the dome onto Siss. Psychic energy constantly overflowed from him, like a newly awakened giant beast letting out a low roar. The balance Karl-2 had maintained for nearly a year developed a crack at that instant.
Below, Raynor sensed an ambition taking root, and a faint smile slowly appeared in his eyes.
For three days, the core zone of Karl-2 had been shrouded in a layer of restless psychic fluctuations. This core area of the space station used to be the quietest place on the planet. In the past, Siss could sit on his main seat for days, retracting all psychic energy like a meditating monk. Aside from Ragnar's communications, the outside clamor could hardly disturb him.
But now, in the empty hall, Siss paced back and forth restlessly, his massive feet creating dull echoes on the floor. With every step, tiny sparks burst from beneath his soles, scorching small burn marks into the flooring. The psychic energy around him had become so dense it was nearly physical; the terrifying pressure of an Alpha-level psyker radiated outward uncontrollably.
The metal candelabras on both sides of the hall were knocked askew by invisible forces. Even the psychic Boyz guarding outside were breathless under the weight of this restless pressure, their faces pale, not daring to lift their heads.
Ever since he first experienced the explosion of power brought by the Waaagh! field half a month ago, Siss had become completely hooked. He finally understood why those Greenskin Big Bosses broke their heads trying to become the Boss. He understood why they would fight to the death just for the title of "Most Waaagh!".
That feeling of being worshipped and believed in by thousands upon thousands of Boyz, with a constant Waaagh! field surrounding the body and making one's power stronger day by day, was more addictive than the strongest mushroom wine. Once tasted, it could never be given up.
But lately, the space station had been peacefully boring. The two Imperial fleets outside seemed to have reached an agreement, shrinking back to the outer edges without moving—there wasn't even small-scale harassment anymore. The annoying Tyranid fleet had vanished entirely, not even throwing a single spore cyst toward Karl-2.
Without war and slaughter, the Boyz' emotions couldn't be stirred. Even with the Waaagh! GP races keeping them interested and the Waaagh! field still growing, the growth was slow and unsatisfying. To Siss, who had tasted the explosive growth brought by war, this rate of increase was utterly negligible.
Deep in his heart, it felt as though claws were constantly scratching, making him desperate to launch a new war, a new Waaagh!. Only blood and slaughter could ignite the fanaticism of the Boyz and take his power to the next level.
But there were too few targets left to strike.
The two Imperial fleets remained in a pincer formation at the outer edge, their defensive lines airtight. Siss only held the support of the Hokage, Blood Axe, and Evil Sunz clans; a reckless frontal assault would only end in a bloody repulse. The Tyranids were even more elusive, their tracks nowhere to be found, leaving him with no place to vent his aggression. As for the Deathskulls and the "Arc of Resistance" formed by the Goffs and Snakebites, they were untouchable for now. Attacking them would mean a full-scale civil war on Karl-2—something he had been desperately trying to avoid.
To fight was impossible, yet to stay idle was unbearable. This usually composed Alpha-level psyker experienced a gnawing restlessness for the first time. He stopped his pacing and looked at the portrait of Ragnar on the wall, his grip tightening until his staff creaked.
The seed of "being the Boss himself" grew in his heart like a rampant weed. Finally, unable to restrain himself any longer, he let out a low roar toward the exterior of the hall:
"Go! Bring Tooth-Rich of the Hokage Clan to me!"
The psyker Boyz serving as messengers dared not delay. They scrambled out of the palace as fast as their legs could carry them.
Meanwhile, at the Hokage Clan's base, Raynor stood before Tooth-Rich, looking at the Grot with a calm expression.
"Tooth-Rich," Raynor's voice was soft but carried an unprecedented gravity. "Siss summoning you in such a hurry means the string in his heart has been stretched to its limit. What we do next... well, you know how crazy it is. We might even end up betraying the entire Dolido Greenskin Alliance. I'll ask you one more time: are you really willing to walk this dark path with me to the end?"
Hearing this, Tooth-Rich gave a serene smile. He had long since shed his former cowardice; even facing a rampaging Siss, he would not flinch. He reached up to straighten his gleaming gold power armor and looked at Raynor with absolute certainty.
"Itachi, don't worry. Everything I have was given to me by you. No matter what you do, I stand with you unconditionally."
Tooth-Rich was not a "pure" soul, but he saw things with crystal clarity. He knew his own worth; if he lost Raynor's support, he would undoubtedly revert to his miserable former state.
Raynor looked at the Grot, momentarily at a loss for words. He reached out, patted Tooth-Rich on the shoulder, and said deeply, "Good!"
Then, he composed himself and laid out his thoughts:
"Siss calling for you now means he's desperate to stir up trouble. Karl-2 is too quiet, and there are few targets to hit. But it's not entirely without options..."
A sharp light flashed in Tooth-Rich's eyes. "The Bad Moons?"
"Exactly! If he mentions the Bad Moons, you do this, and then that..."
Raynor leaned down and whispered into Tooth-Rich's ear, detailing every subsequent move of the operation. Tooth-Rich nodded repeatedly, the light in his eyes growing brighter. Once Raynor finished, he smiled with perfect understanding.
"Rest easy. I know what to do. I guarantee this will be handled beautifully."
Half an hour later, Tooth-Rich's luxury war chariot came to a smooth halt at the entrance of the Overseer's palace. This time, no Ork dared to look at him with disdain. Two psyker Boyz bowed respectfully and led him into the depths of the hall with the utmost deference.
They didn't go to the cluttered side parlor from before; they went to the Overseer's Grand Hall, the very heart of Karl-2. Siss sat upon the high Overseer's Throne, looking down at him as he entered.
Times had changed. The Grot who once couldn't get a word in during clan meetings and was mocked by every Ork was now the most trusted clan leader under Siss's command—the most prominent figure on all of Karl-2.
Tooth-Rich walked to the throne and bowed with dignified poise. "Tooth-Rich greets Boss Siss."
He looked up at Siss and felt a slight jolt of surprise. Though it had only been three days since their last meeting, Siss felt fundamentally different. The psychic energy around him was even more terrifying; even mostly restrained, it felt like a crashing tide that made it hard to breathe. His psychic intensity had surged once again.
However, in contrast to this power, the ocean-like composure Siss once possessed had vanished. His eyes betrayed an ill-concealed agitation.
Siss waved a hand, cutting straight to the point without pleasantries. "Tooth-Rich, I called you here to ask: how is the construction of that 'Terror Ship' for the Hokage Clan coming along?"
"Reporting to Boss Siss, the main structure is complete. But the Meks are still fine-tuning the engines and weapon systems. We're still far from reaching the expected performance," Tooth-Rich replied respectfully. "The Bad Moons have been throttling our supply of top-tier alloys, so progress has been slow."
This statement gave Siss the perfect opening. He let out a cold snort and leaned forward, his gaze piercing as he looked at Tooth-Rich.
"Oh? Then I should ask you: what exactly is your opinion of the Bad Moons Clan?"
Tooth-Rich's heart skipped a beat—Raynor had guessed correctly. He allowed a look of disgust to cross his face, his tone dripping with unconcealed contempt.
"Boss Siss, to be honest, I despise the Bad Moons the most. They act as if they are above the fray, offending no one, but they are the most calculating lot. They are the slipperiest fence-sitters on Karl-2. While you and Chandler are in a standoff, they play both sides, doing business and sucking up to everyone so as not to offend anyone. On the surface, they are respectful to you, but their secret trades with the Deathskulls never stop. The good stuff goes straight to Chandler's workshops, while we only get the scraps. Right now, seeing your power, they don't dare speak out. But the moment there's friction between you and Chandler and one side falters, these profit-driven bastards will be the first to kick you while you're down. These double-crossing fence-sitters are the worst!"
Tooth-Rich went on at length, sounding as if he had a blood feud with the Bad Moons. As Siss listened, his brow furrowed deeper, and the violence in his expression intensified. His fingers gripped the armrest of the throne so hard they left visible marks in the solid alloy.
"Well said!" Siss slammed his hand onto the armrest and stood up. His psychic energy surged instantly, green light illuminating the entire hall. "In that case, we might as well take this chance to pull up this 'weed' once and for all! It'll save us trouble later!"
Tooth-Rich was internally startled. He hadn't expected Siss to be so impatient—he wanted to skip the setup and go straight to violence. He quickly stepped forward and bowed to dissuade him.
"Boss Siss, you mustn't be so hasty! If we act now, we can certainly take down the Bad Moons, but how will the other clans see it? They will think you are using your power to arbitrarily swallow up neutral clans. That will only drive more Boyz over to Chandler's side. When we Greenskins go to war, while we usually just fight whenever we want, if we want all the Boyz to be truly convinced, we still need to talk about being 'rightfully justified'."
"Rightfully justified?" Siss paused. This was the first time he had heard such a term. During his long tenure as Overseer, whether it was Chandler or Ragnar, if they could win, they fought whoever they wanted. He had never heard of needing a "title" or a "reason."
He frowned and looked at Tooth-Rich, his tone curious. "Tell me, how do we become 'rightfully justified'?"
This was exactly the prompt Tooth-Rich was waiting for. This move of "retreating to advance" had led Siss right into the trap Raynor had laid. He pretended to lower his head in deep thought for a moment, then looked up and whispered to Siss:
"Boss Siss, you are the Overseer of Karl-2, the supreme commander personally appointed by Boss Ragnar. All the clans on Karl-2 should naturally pay tribute to you to show their respect. But lately, as your power and prestige have grown, the Bad Moons have played deaf and dumb. Aside from normal business transactions, they haven't shown even a shred of the sincerity they owe you."
He paused, lowering his voice even further as he revealed the full plan. "So, we only need to do this, and then that..."
Standing before the throne, Siss listened to Tooth-Rich's words and nodded repeatedly. Previously, he had only thought about using his fists to beat others into submission. He had never imagined the game of war could be played this way.