The chanting gradually gave way to raucous conversation as the ogres and orcs began swapping tales of the brutal showdown they had just witnessed.
Their voices were filled with admiration, awe, and disbelief.
"Did ya see that? That enemy was like no other—mighty strong, full of dark magic! But the Warchief crushed him like he was nothing!"
"Nothing?! He was more than that, mate. He was like a force, that one. All that undead magic swirling around, but our Warchief tore him apart piece by piece!"
"Aye, he was so strong, I thought we'd be done for! I was bracing myself for the worst!"
They laughed, though so still bore expressions of awe mixed with disbelief.
The Death Monarch, as they would soon co to call him, had been a terrifying enemy, his dark aura nearly overwhelming them all.
None had known his na, but they understood he was a being of unfathomable power, sothing out of legend. And yet, Volk had ripped through him like he was a common foe.
An ogre, with a large scar across his chest, raised his voice above the chatter, his eyes glinting with pride.
"OUR WARCHIEF TOOK DOWN THE MOST POWERFUL ENEMY I'VE EVER SEEN! EVEN STRONGER THAN THOSE MYTHS WE HEAR!"
"Aye! It was like the end o' the world right here, but our Warchief—he fought like thunder! Like fire in the night!"
The words spread, murmurs and nods of agreent rippling through the crowd.
Each of them, deep in their own mories, began recounting details of Volk's astonishing strength, the way his fists had struck like mountain-breaking hamrs.
The more they shared, the more their voices rose, each account adding to the legend.
"I never thought anyone could move so fast! The Death Thing—he was casting spells left and right, but Volk… Volk just swatted 'em like flies!"
"What about that black magic? He shrugged it off like it was nothing! Like he was born to crush that kinda power!"
The tales grew, each recounting building upon the last until the battle seed even more grand and brutal.
The young orcs listened with wide eyes, looking up at Volk as though he were so kind of god.
Their hearts swelled with awe, each of them determined to soday reach such strength themselves.
Then, one bold orc stepped forward, eyes gleaming with curiosity, barely able to contain his excitent.
"Warchief! Tell us! How did ya get so strong so fast? That power—it's not like anythin' we've seen before! Is it... permanent?"
The others leaned in, curious, hoping for an answer that would unlock secrets they could strive for.
Volk turned to them, crossing his massive arms, his lips pulling into a grin that sent a shiver of awe through the crowd. "YA WANNA KNOW MY SECRET?"
The Horde fell silent, hanging on his every word. Volk leaned in, his voice lowering but rumbling like distant thunder.
"THE SECRET IS… I'M JUST THAT STRONG!"
The ogres and orcs blinked, wide-eyed, before the silence exploded into a chorus of cheers and laughter.
"JUST THAT STRONG!" they repeated, voices thick with pride and admiration.
"THE WARCHIEF DON'T NEED NO TRICKS!"
"OUR WARCHIEF IS THE STRONGEST!"
The ground shook as they stomped their feet, shouting Volk's words back at him, each of them charged with a fierce sense of loyalty and belief.
But then, a weak sound broke through the celebratory cheers.
"Cough… cough…"
The horde turned, a ripple of surprise passing through them as they spotted a lone figure—a human, bloodied and broken but sohow still alive.
Volk's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching as he recognized the man.
Wasn't that the other system user?
The host of the enemy's magic?
Song Woo-Ji's form was a shadow of what it had been.
His face was pale and sared with blood, his once-proud posture now hunched, his body shaking with terror as he struggled to crawl away.
With each desperate inch, he whimpered, a pitiful sound that only served to stir the Horde's contempt.
"H-how… how did this happen…?" Song Woo-Ji muttered, his voice trembling. "This can't be… anyone, please… soone… s-save… …" His voice was barely a whisper, each word choked by fear.
The ogres and orcs watched in stunned silence, contempt mixing with fascination as they looked down on the broken figure before them.
This was a man who had once stood with his chin high, sure of his power. And now, he was nothing but a shell, a shattered remnant of the once-arrogant system user.
Song Woo-Ji's hand clawed at the ground, pulling his weak, trembling body forward.
"This isn't… how it was supposed to be," he gasped, eyes wide and unfocused. His breaths ca in shallow gasps, his face a mask of panic as he struggled to escape.
Volk watched him, his eyes narrowing, and without a word, he began to move forward. His footsteps were slow, deliberate, each step resonating with the weight of inevitable doom. The orcs and ogres stepped aside, giving their Warchief a wide berth, their eyes fixed on him, eager to see what he would do.
The closer Volk ca, the more Song Woo-Ji's fear grew. He clawed at the ground, trying to crawl faster, his movents frantic and clumsy.
"N-no… no, this can't be! I'm… I'm not ant to die here! I was… chosen! There has to be another way… soone, anyone… help!"
The Horde remained silent, watching him with a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination.
Song Woo-Ji's voice had devolved into hysterical pleas, each word filled with raw, unfiltered terror.
"P-please… please, I'll do anything! Don't… don't let it end like this!"
But Volk said nothing, his expression cold and unreadable.
His form lood larger as he approached, casting a shadow over the broken system user, his every movent radiating power and authority.
When he finally stood over Song Woo-Ji, Volk's massive shadow engulfed him entirely.
Song Woo-Ji's breathing quickened, his eyes wild with terror as he looked up at the hulking ogre.
Desperation etched into every line of his face, he tried to scuttle backward, his hands slipping on the dirt in his frantic attempts to escape.
Volk leaned down, his voice rumbling, cold and unforgiving.
"WHAT'S YOUR NA, SYSTEM USER?"
Song Woo-Ji's gaze was locked on Volk's shadow looming above him, eyes wide, chest heaving.
He coughed, blood flecking his lips as he struggled to muster the strength to speak.
The question hung heavy between them, cold and rciless.
As Volk's massive arm began to raise, casting a deeper shadow over Song Woo-Ji, panic took hold, freezing him in place as he finally stamred, "S-Song Woo-Ji…"
A strange shimr flickered around him—a light that seed misplaced in this battlefield.
The air quivered, dense with magic.
Suddenly, a gust of energy swirled around Song Woo-Ji, wrapping him in a protective aura.
Before Volk could bring his crushing arm down, the aura intensified, and with a soft swoosh, he vanished.
Volk frowned, his hand hanging mid-air, the sudden emptiness where his prey had been causing his brows to furrow.
He turned slowly, feeling the traces of magic, until his gaze fell on the distant figure of a woman—a woman he recognized—standing a few yards away.
She was panting heavily, her face pale, exhaustion etched deep into her features.
"HMMM?"
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