The chanting gradually gave way to raucous conversation as the ogres and orcs began swapping tales of the brutal showdown they had just witnessed.
Their voices were filled with admiration, awe, and disbelief.
"Did ya see that? That enemy was like no other—mighty strong, full of dark magic! But the Warchief crushed him like he was nothing!"
"Nothing?! He was more than that, mate. He was like a force, that one. All that undead magic swirling around, but our Warchief tore him apart piece by piece!"
"Aye, he was so strong, I thought we'd be done for! I was bracing myself for the worst!"
They laughed, though some still bore expressions of awe mixed with disbelief.
The Death Monarch, as they would soon come to call him, had been a terrifying enemy, his dark aura nearly overwhelming them all.
