Draven stepped forward again, his eyes locking onto the last of the corrupted orcs that had emerged from the portal. It was larger than the others, its dark armor covered in pulsating runes that glowed with an eerie red light. The creature roared, the sound reverberating through the chamber, its eyes narrowing in a mixture of rage and something else—something that looked almost like hesitation.
Draven's cold, sharp gaze never wavered, and he let out a breath, his expression as unreadable as ever. "You think your size will save you?" he murmured, his voice barely audible. Then louder, with that same chilling intensity, "Come, face me."
The orc hesitated, its massive form shivering with rage, but it couldn't ignore the command. It charged at Draven, its enormous axe raised high, the red runes blazing with power. Each step it took seemed to shake the very ground beneath them, a weight that threatened to crush anything in its path.
