The Death Monarch smirked and extended a single finger toward Volk. "Beat him up until his feet can no longer stand back up," he commanded, his voice low and resonant, the sound of it like a death toll vibrating through the air.
The two skeletal hounds lunged forward, their bodies moving with surprising speed, every step they took leaving scorch marks on the ground.
As Volk struggled to his feet, they were upon him, their razor-sharp claws tearing through the air, each swipe leaving trails of death energy that crackled in their wake.
Volk let out a thunderous roar, defiant and unyielding, as he braced himself, his muscles bulging with newfound fury.
He swung his massive fists, one toward each hound, his movements a symphony of brute strength and raw rage.
CRASH!
His right fist connected with the jaw of the first hound, shattering several of its fangs with a sickening crunch, sending shards of bone flying.
