Song Woo-Ji staggered, his breaths shallow and labored.

His lungs burned, each gasp scraping through his throat like sandpaper.

Blood dripped steadily from the gaping wounds along his back, pooling around his boots, staining the rocky floor of his Draconic Graveyard domain.

He could feel the warm, sticky flow intensifying with every second.

The pain was relentless, wrapping around him like iron chains.

His legs trembled, but he forced himself to stand, the weight of exhaustion pressing down like a heavy cloak.

He hadn’t expected this—being pushed to the brink so quickly, so mercilessly.

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Before him, the Orc horde leader, was a whirlwind of violence.

Each swing of the massive war axe in his hand was followed by a sickening crunch.

Thwack!

The sound of metal slicing through bone echoed through the battlefield as one of Song Woo-Ji’s undead pawns was cleaved in half.

A mere second later, another was kicked aside, its rotting body crashing into the jagged rocks with a wet thud.

They were supposed to be strong, these undead warriors.

Powerful.

Song Woo-Ji’s fingers clenched into fists, blood mixing with dirt and sweat.

He had fought hard to capture them, to turn them into his subordinates.

He could still remember the dungeons where he had defeated them—each battle a grueling struggle that had pushed him to his limits.

The first was the Mountain Giant, Gorr. Song Woo-Ji had barely survived the encounter.

Gorr’s lair had been deep within the Fire Fang Mountains, its craggy peaks spewing smoke and ash.

Gorr had been a colossus of stone and muscle, his fists large enough to crush boulders.

Every blow from the giant had felt like a mountain collapsing on Song Woo-Ji. He had dodged, ducked, rolled—barely able to land a single hit.

His sword had shattered against Gorr’s skin, and for a moment, it had seemed like defeat was inevitable. But then, Song Woo-Ji had found a way—striking a weak spot hidden beneath the giant’s left arm.

It had taken everything he had to bring the behemoth down, and even more to bind him to his will.

Then there was Daelum, the Death Knight. A fearsome warrior, clad in spectral armor, his sword a blackened shard of pure malice.

Song Woo-Ji had stumbled upon him in the ancient ruins of Zorn.

The air there had been thick with decay, the stones underfoot whispering of forgotten wars and ancient curses.

Daelum had been relentless, his blade carving through the darkness, seeking to end Song Woo-Ji’s life with every swing.

The battle had been a dance of death, each of them trading blow for blow, parry for parry.

When Song Woo-Ji had finally felled him, binding his soul to his necromantic powers, it had felt like conquering death itself.

And lastly, there was Sorva, the Fallen Mage.

Sorva had been a master of arcane arts, her lair a twisting labyrinth of illusion and magic deep beneath the Scarlet Crags.

Song Woo-Ji had spent days wandering through her domain, fending off her traps and ambushes, his mind stretched to its limits by the constant barrage of sorcery.

Sorva had appeared before him in the form of a wraith, her body flickering between reality and the void.

Their battle had been one of endurance, Song Woo-Ji using every ounce of his will to break through her magical defenses.

When he finally brought her down, her essence had become another weapon in his arsenal.

And yet, now—now, all of them were being slaughtered by the Orc horde leader he had trapped in his domain.

The Orc horde leader was cutting through them like they were nothing more than fodder, their once formidable strength utterly useless against his brute power.

Smash!

Another undead pawn crumbled under Orc horde leader’s attack, its skull caving in like a fragile eggshell.

Song Woo-Ji stared at the carnage, disbelief tightening around his throat.

How?

How could this be happening?

These undead had faced the most grueling battles, overcome impossible odds, yet here they were, helpless before this monstrous orc.

The realization gnawed at his head like a pin needle, it tasted bitter and unforgiving.

The Orc horde leader was a tower of muscle and rage, and he could feel like his every movement were calculated, every strike was devastating and destructive.

His crimson eyes glowed with an unquenchable thirst for blood.

Song Woo-Ji’s chest tightened as the Orc horde Leader’s gaze fell on him, the orc’s mouth curling into a feral grin.

The undead may have been a nuisance, but Song Woo-Ji?

He was Volk’s true prey.

Volk roared, the sound reverberating across the battlefield like a thunderclap from the raging sky.

“IS THIS ALL YOU HAVE, LITTLE HUMAN?!” His voice boomed, shaking the very ground. “YOUR PAWNS ARE NOTHING!”

Song Woo-Ji’s heart pounded in his chest. His hands, slick with blood, clenched tighter around the hilt of his sword.

The air crackled with tension as Volk charged, his enormous frame barreling through the field like a runaway beast.

Song Woo-Ji’s mind raced, trying to calculate his next move, but the pain, the exhaustion—it was all too much.

Suddenly, Volk disappeared—swoosh!—vanishing from sight. For a split second, everything went silent.

Song Woo-Ji’s eyes widened.

Where had he gone?

Then, just as quickly, Volk reappeared behind him.

Whoosh!

The air shifted, the scent of blood thick in the atmosphere.

“SURRENDER YOUR LIFE, LITTLE HUMAN!” V

olk’s voice was like a crashing wave, his presence overwhelming.

Song Woo-Ji could feel the ground tremble beneath his feet.

But before Volk could land a killing blow, something shifted in the air.

A dark, oppressive energy seeped from Song Woo-Ji’s body, spreading outward like a thick mist.

The temperature dropped, the smell of death flooding the area.

Time seemed to slow, the world turning grey as the energy wrapped itself around Song Woo-Ji, forming a swirling vortex of bones and shadows.

Crack!

The bones twisted and merged, forming armor that clung to Song Woo-Ji’s body like a second skin.

His right hand clenched, and a spear materialized—crafted from countless bones, spinning like a drill, its edges sharp enough to tear through steel.

The transformation was complete in an instant.

Song Woo-Ji’s eyes gleamed from within the bone helmet, the glow of deathly power pulsating through him. His voice, cold and detached, echoed across the battlefield.

“Executor Mode: Drill Breaker.”

Volk paused, eyes narrowing as he stared at the human before him. Something was wrong.

This piercing power—it was unlike anything he had ever faced.

He took a step back hoping to evade the attack, but it was already too late.

Vvvvrrrr!

The spear spun faster, the sound of the drill piercing the air like a shriek.

Without warning, Song Woo-Ji lunged, the bone spear driving forward with terrifying speed.

Volk swung his axe, trying to block the attack, but the spear shattered through it—crack!—sending shards of metal flying.

Song Woo-Ji didn’t stop.

His movements were fluid, precise, and unrelenting.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The spear drilled into Volk’s massive body, each impact punctuated by the sickening sound of flesh being torn apart.

Blood sprayed from Volk’s wounds, the bone drill carving through his flesh with ease.

Each strike drilled deeper, faster, ripping through muscle, bone, and sinew.

Volk roared in agony, his body convulsing as he tried to fight back, but the assault was relentless.

From every angle, the spear struck, drilling holes into Volk’s arms, legs, chest—everywhere.

His body was riddled with gaping wounds, each one large enough to see straight through to the other side.

Blood poured from him like a river, his once mighty form reduced to a mass of torn flesh and broken bones.

Splurt!

A final thrust of the spear drilled through Volk’s chest, and the Orc horde leader fell to his knees, and his strength was gone in that moment.

He looked down at the countless holes in his body, disbelief and pain etched across his face.

Song Woo-Ji stood over him, the spear in his hand still spinning, its tip drenched in blood.

He didn’t say a word.

He didn’t need to.

The battle was over.

Volk’s body slumped forward, crashing to the ground with a heavy thud.

The sound echoed across the enclosed battlefield, like a grim reminder of the brutal fight that had just taken place.

Song Woo-Ji looked down at his fallen opponent, his breathing ragged, but his resolve unshaken.

The bone armor around him slowly dissipated, crumbling into dust,

leaving him standing alone amidst the carnage.

The orc horde Leader was no more.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep