A sudden, eerie silence fell over the battlefield, cutting through the heavy air like a blade.
The Bloodfang Clan leader, seasoned in countless battles, scanned the faces of the Dreadmaw Clan.
What he saw wasn't fear.
It was something much more dangerous—desire.
The kind of desire only orcs knew.
A bloodlust, a craving for battle so deep it twisted even the most terrifying situation into something thrilling. His gut twisted.
But then his eyes fell on Volk. More specifically, on the dog skull around Volk's neck.
There was something about it—no, not something—dark magic. The faint, pulsing aura that clung to the skull was unmistakable.
The Bloodfang Clan leader's eyes narrowed. His battle-hardened instincts screamed at him.
"What is that?" the Bloodfang leader whispered, his voice tinged with fear. His gaze locked onto the skull.
