Frustrated, in search of who it was, attacked by his fake kin. The Khül roared, swinging his mighty weapon left and right. What looked like air blades spewed out of his ax, decapitating, cleaving the life out of the orc horde from a distance.
"Fakes! Stay your hands or die by mine!" The Khül ordered, stopping his attacks for but a moment to give them pause for choice.
At least a thousand bodies and more liters of blood covered the sand. It looked like the beginning of a genocide.
Blinded by the now destroyed suicidal horn's power, thousands of orcs heeded none of his warnings and flooded the arena.
Since most of them were spectators, they wore casual clothes. Deprived of weapons, they could only attack with their fists.
But they never reached their target in time to even have the chance to land a hit.
