The battlefield lay in ruins, a grim testament to the Orcs' might. Gromar stood triumphant, his bloodied axe resting on his shoulder as the retreating human forces disappeared into the distance. The once-proud defenders of Timber Kingdom had been shattered, their desperate efforts to halt the Orc advance crushed beneath the relentless onslaught. Alex, kneeling amidst the carnage, clutched the broken shaft of his spear, watching helplessly as Gromar led his warriors deeper into human territory.
The night air was thick with the stench of death and burning flesh. Screams of the wounded and dying echoed faintly across the plains as the last of the human forces scrambled to regroup beyond the horizon.
"Timber Kingdom falls next," Gromar growled, turning to his warriors. "We will not stop until their cities burn, and their king kneels at my feet."
