The man in the armor floated above the battlefield, his arms crossed arrogantly, casting a sneering gaze upon Volk and his horde.
His polished armor gleamed in the dim light, radiating a golden glow that seemed to mock the chaos unfolding below.
His eyes narrowed, observing with cold detachment as his allies, the human rankers, advanced in perfect formation, weapons drawn and magic swirling around them like a deadly storm.
Volk, his senses sharpened by his Radioactive form, felt the shift in the air.
His massive frame tensed as his eyes darted behind him, sensing the sudden influx of human rankers closing in.
He let out a low growl, his anger bubbling up as he saw the humans charging at his horde.
The smell of blood and burning ozone filled the air as the two sides prepared to clash.
Suddenly, Grashk, Volk's trusted lieutenant, appeared by his side.
