Volk's angry laughter thundered through the smog-drenched battlefield, "GRUAHHAHAHAHA!" rolling through the ruins and broken streets like an unholy drumbeat.
His eyes gleamed with a twisted, feral satisfaction as he tracked his target.
The two women—Bong Me-Eon and her master—dashed through the debris, casting occasional glances over their shoulders as they wove through crumbling alleys and deserted buildings.
But Volk didn't lose sight of them.
His towering form barreled forward, his heavy footfalls smashing the cracked earth beneath him, each stride sending shockwaves through the ground.
He was relentless, a predator locked onto his prey, and every monstrous fiber in his being was fixed on catching up to them.
Behind him, the undead abomination still loomed. Its empty eye sockets remained locked onto him, emitting an eerie greenish glow that seethed with decaying magic.
