With cruel delight, Zenveil could see the fear in the annoying hazardous orc's eyes.
It was intoxicating, a delicious thrill that sent shivers of pleasure down Zenveil's spine. But it's not enough, he wanted Volk to be fully consud by fear and turn into his normal Orc form!
He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, sinister whisper that echoed through the cavern like a death knell.
"Thank ," Zenveil hissed, his words laced with venom.
"Thank for what I've done for you, little green buzzwark. You should be on your knees, groveling in gratitude for the rcy I've shown.
"Do you know why you're still alive? Why are you still standing in your Grum-gar form when all your comrades have reverted back to their pathetic, weak selves?"
Volk's mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear, his thoughts too jumbled to form a coherent response.
His heart pounded in his chest, with rapid thudding drowning out all rational thought.
He could only stare up at Zenveil, with his body frozen in place as the Warlock continued to speak.
"It's because of , little guy," Zenveil continued, his voice a twisted blend of pride and malice.
"I stopped Dozer from killing you all. He wanted to, you know. He wanted to rip you to shreds, to bathe in the blood of your pathetic horde because he can turn into a Grum-gar form after eating a whole lot of like your hornless Orc race. But I stopped him. I held him back, kept him in check. Why?
Because I wanted to savor this mont. I want to see you all think that you have chances and see the look on your face when you realize just how powerless you really are."
Volk's body trembled as Zenveil's words sank in, the truth of them twisting like a knife in his gut.
It wasn't just the physical pain that tore at him, but the sheer hopelessness of his situation.
The knowledge that Zenveil had the power to end him at any mont, and yet he chose to keep him alive, to draw out his suffering. It was more than Volk could bear.
Zenveil's voice grew louder, more commanding as he straightened up, towering over Volk with a terrifying presence.
"You're nothing, hazardous Orc leader," he spat, his eyes narrowing with contempt.
"Just a weak, sniveling Labor Orc who's deluded himself into thinking he's sothing more like a leader. But you're not. You're nothing but a coward, hiding behind your Grum-gar form, hoping it will sohow make you stronger. But it won't, hazardous Orc. It never will."
Volk's mind flashed back to his life on Earth, the mories of his helplessness flooding his senses.
The wheelchair.
The abuse.
The constant reminder of his inferiority.
The always need to be saved by soone.
The fear that had controlled him for so long, that had kept him in chains even when he tried to fight back.
It was the sa fear that now gripped his heart, the sa fear that paralyzed him as Zenveil lood above.
Zenveil's eyes glead with wicked amusent as he watched the fear play out on Volk's face. He could see the Orc's resolve crumbling, the last vestiges of hope slipping away. And it thrilled him. He wanted more.
"You're nothing but a al to , Orcs," Zenveil sneered, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "A piece of at, waiting to be devoured. And I'm going to enjoy every second of it."
Volk's breath caught in his throat as Zenveil's words hit him like a sledgehamr.
His mind was a storm of emotions—fear, anger, helplessness—all swirling together in a chaotic whirlpool.
He wanted to fight back, to prove Zenveil wrong. But the fear was too strong.
It had taken hold of him, rooting him in place, sapping his strength.
"And what's this?" Zenveil mocked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"You think you can still fight? You think you can stand up to ? Look at yourself, Volk. You're trembling. You can barely keep your feet under you. What hope do you have against ?
Against the power of a Warlock?"
Volk's hands clenched into fists, he hated this.
Zenveil leaned in closer, his voice a low, dangerous whisper.
"Give it up, hazardous Orc leader," he hissed, his eyes boring into Volk's with an intensity that made his blood run cold.
"Give in to the fear. Let it consu you. Turn back into a normal Orc and accept your fate. Let start my feast with all of your Orc friends. There's nothing you can do to stop but only watch devour them one by one!"
Volk's body trembled uncontrollably, the fear coursing through him like a poison was making him shrink.
Zenveil's grin widened as he saw the despair in Volk's eyes, the last traces of resistance fading away. "That's it," he whispered, his voice a low, taunting purr. "Give up, hazardous Orc leader. There's no point in fighting. You're just prolonging the inevitable. You can't win.
You never could."
Volk's heart pounded in his chest, the fear gripping him tighter and tighter, until it felt like he couldn't breathe.
Zenveil's laughter echoed through the cavern, a sound of pure, unadulterated evil. "This is your end, little hazard orc," he declared, his voice ringing with finality.
"Your last mont of defiance. And then you'll be nothing but a mory, a forgotten footnote in the annals of history. Just another Orc who dared to challenge a Warlock and paid the price."
Volk's vision blurred as the fear slowly consud him.
He could feel the last vestiges of his strength slipping away, the power of his Grum-gar form fading into nothingness.
He was on the brink of giving up, of surrendering to the fear, to death, when a mory flashed through his mind.
It was a mory of his uncle, the man who had saved him from the abuse of his cousin's boyfriend.
His uncle had been a towering figure, a man of imnse strength and courage.
He had protected Volk when no one else would, had stood up for him when he was too afraid to stand up for himself. And in that mont, Volk rembered the words his uncle had spoken to him.
"Don't ever let fear control you, Volk," his uncle had said, his voice firm and unwavering.
"You're stronger than you think. You have a strength inside you that no one can take away. Don't let anyone make you feel weak. Don't let them take away your power."
The words echoed in Volk's mind, cutting through the fog of fear like a beacon of light.
If it were in his past life, he wouldn't have believed in his uncle.
After all, he is born crippled.
However, isn't he normal now?
So what if he was weaker?
Didn't he have two hands and two strong legs?
Yes!
So why be afraid!
In the past, he just wanted to punch the boyfriend of his cousin in the face if he ever got a normal body, so why should he fear anyone?
Zenveil's laughter rang in Volk's ears, a sound of triumph that grated on his nerves. But this ti, the fear inside him suddenly felt like a breeze.
With that breeze, a fire was ignited in his chest, a warm rage that was slowly heating.
Zenveil's eyes narrowed as he saw the change in Volk, the flicker of defiance that had returned to his eyes. "What's this?" Zenveil sneered, his voice laced with irritation.
"You think you can still fight? You think you can stand up to ?"
Volk's hands clenched into fists, the muscles in his arms bulging with renewed strength.
He could feel the power of his Grum-gar form surging through him, the fear that had gripped him now slowly turning into anger, and his determination to at least break one Zenveil's teeth was making his aura changed.
He would be satisfied with that!
Even if it was at least one teeth!
Zenveil's expression darkened as he saw the resolve in Volk's eyes, the strength that had returned to his body.
"You're making a mistake, little green buzzwark," Zenveil warned, his voice low and dangerous.
"You're only prolonging your suffering."
But Volk didn't listen.
He wasn't afraid anymore.
His eyes were green, deep seething and were slowly deepening.
Zenveil's eyes widened as he realized what was happening, the grin fading from his face. "No," he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief. "This can't be…"
But it was.
Suddenly, Volk's body pulsed with destructive power.
| Ding!
| The host has borrowed the power of rage, making the host twice stronger, faster and bigger.
| Ti Deduction: 30 seconds.
| Current ti duration: 6 minutes and 7 seconds. |
Reviews
All reviews (0)