Song Woo-Ji staggered, his breaths shallow and labored.
His lungs burned, each gasp scraping through his throat like sandpaper.
Blood dripped steadily from the gaping wounds along his back, pooling around his boots, staining the rocky floor of his Draconic Graveyard domain.
He could feel the warm, sticky flow intensifying with every second.
The pain was relentless, wrapping around him like iron chains.
His legs trembled, but he forced himself to stand, the weight of exhaustion pressing down like a heavy cloak.
He hadn't expected this—being pushed to the brink so quickly, so mercilessly.
Before him, the Orc horde leader, was a whirlwind of violence.
Each swing of the massive war axe in his hand was followed by a sickening crunch.
Thwack!
The sound of metal slicing through bone echoed through the battlefield as one of Song Woo-Ji's undead pawns was cleaved in half.
