As Volk approached the looming rock mountain, his crimson eyes gleamed with anticipation.
The terrain ahead was a jagged colossus, its uneven cliffs stretching into the sky like the broken teeth of a fallen giant.
The ground beneath him shifted with loose gravel, and the air grew cooler as the shadow of the mountain enveloped him.
A low, satisfied chuckle rumbled from his chest as he slowed his pace, surveying the terrain with the sharp precision of a predator.
"This," he muttered to himself, his voice deep and filled with approval, "is perfect. Absolutely perfect."
He stopped to place a massive hand on the rough surface of the mountain.
The stone was solid and cold, unyielding to his touch.
His gauntleted fingers scraped against it, producing a faint metallic screech as he traced the potential lines of destruction.
