In the isolated arena atop the high rock, Gray stood resolute against the towering figure of an ogre. The ogre loomed over him, a colossal mass of muscle and raw, intimidating power, his green skin stretched tight over bulging muscles, marked with the scars of numerous battles. Despite the overwhelming disparity in size, reminiscent of a child before a seasoned bodybuilder, Gray's posture was not one of fear, only a calm readiness.
The air around them was heavy with the stench of the ogre, a repugnant miasma that would have overwhelmed any ordinary senses. Even Gray found it repulsive but still stood his ground.
His focus was unwavering as he faced his adversary.
Memories flickered in Gray's mind, placing a name to the formidable being before him. "Vomade," he thought, recalling encounters past.
The ogre had always held a deep-seated animosity towards him, a hostility born from the incident with his brother, Pomade, whom Gray had injured.
