The atmosphere in the forest shifted, the air thickening like a suffocating fog.
Every Orc present could feel it. Their hearts beat faster, their instincts warning them that something was dreadfully wrong.
They had fought Ogres before, yes—wild, savage beasts driven by brute force and primal rage. But this… this was different.
Fifteen Orcs.
That was the number needed to stand a chance against an intelligent Ogre.
Every warrior knew this as gospel, drilled into their minds by countless tales of failed battles and massacres. And yet, the horde, bolstered by their newfound armor and the victories they had claimed earlier, stood on edge but confident.
Victory was within their grasp.
Volk's command hung in the air, his crimson gauntlet subtly glowing as he prepared to give the order.
But Gar'ruk moved first.
