kill=get bigger

They glowed bright enough to outshine the stars, and as they strode through the sky, I could feel the gods above ’em, grinning down in violent pride. Then clashes and booms and roars started coming from up ahead – the giants were wading into a scrap.
It was hard to see what was going on, given I was looking up from between the flanks of the galloping squiggoths, but it was a big, big, big fight. It kept getting bigger. And I think the orks won. Surely, they couldn’t have lost? But then, when the noises of the fight faded away, the presence of the gods did too. It was like the whole cavern got cold and dark again, like it had been to start with. The squiggoths stopped in their tracks, and so did every other thing in the whole of the Great Green. It was like everything was lost, suddenly, looking around and wondering what to do now.
Of course, they started fighting. It was a frenzy, above and below, from the giants trading punches like comet-strikes in the sky, to the snotlings wrapping skinny claws around each other’s necks down below. And with no gods to bang everyone’s heads together and tell ’em to pack it in, it went on until the whole place was like a butcher’s tent, and there’d been enough murders for the survivors to have some space.
It weren’t peaceful, then, but it weren’t a bloodbath neither, ’cos all the really hard things, like the orks in the sky, were dead. It went on for ages like that. There were orks, still. But they were nothing like the colossal fighters who’d been there before. And they was all stuck down on the cavern floor. Watching ’em was a bit like watching raindrops get swiped away by a trukk’s hatch-wipers: every time one got big enough to seem like it might make it up to the sky, all the others nearby ganged up and beat it into shreds, so none of ’em got as big as they should’ve been.
Until one did, that is. It wasn’t even that big when it got attacked, but it properly demolished every ork that came at it, delivering headbutts like point-blank cannon strikes, and pulling any survivors into line to fight alongside it. As more and more enemies flooded in, the fighter got larger, and so did the pile of bodies in front of it. Green lightning started to strike all around it, and soon that body pile reached all the way up to the sky. Seeing this, the new giant began climbing the mountain of the dead towards the stars.
With every step, the winner grew more bulky, more… vigorous, and soon the cavern started glowing bright again. The stars swelled, and I knew that Gork and Mork was back, somehow. Or that they’d never been gone, but had just lost interest for a while, until there’d been something worth looking at again. Soon, the champion reached the top of the body pile, where the stars had grown so big there was no black left between ’em, and it stood there for a moment, like it was thinking.
Looking up at that titan, which had horns now, as well as loads of arms bearing all sorts of different guns and choppas, I was terrified. But I also knew what joy was, for the very first time.
And then the titan looked back down at me. There were spaceships flitting across the green sea of its one good eye, looking like tiny bin-gits, and as the full weight of that glare bore down on me, I thanked the gods that they’d let me die like this. But the giant didn’t kill me. It curled a finger big enough to flick a moon into a planet, and it beckoned me. Then it turned and stepped into glorious, infinite green, leaving only flames in its boot prints.

Ghazghkull: Prophet of the Waaagh!