Suddenly, without warning, Volk's knee buckled beneath him, and he dropped to the ground with a heavy thud.
The sound echoed ominously through the chamber, bouncing off the stone walls like a warning.
For a moment, he was confused. His body, though battered and bruised, had endured the chieftains' magical onslaught. But now, his legs trembled, refusing to support him.
The gathered Orcs of each clan stiffened.
Their eyes darted between each other, uncertain.
The chieftains, still heaving with labored breaths, exchanged glances.
Slowly, a cruel smirk spread across the Bloodfang chieftain's face. He straightened up, despite his own exhaustion, and nodded to the others.
"Let's do it. The Orc Formation," the Bloodfang chieftain muttered darkly, his voice low and full of deadly intent.
Volk's eyes narrowed. He planted his hands firmly on the ground, pushing himself back to his feet, but his muscles screamed in protest.
