Meanwhile, Volk got up after being sent far away, the weight of the unfamiliar force that had blasted him still pulsing through his veins.

He pressed his massive fists into the earth, pushing himself to his feet, his brow furrowed.

The blast—it had thrown him back with an ease he’d never known.

He shook his head, growling low in his chest.

Strength beyond reckoning coursed through him now, surging from every muscle, every fiber.

He had risen stronger than ever before, he was now considered a titan among his kin, and he is vastly far stronger because of his system. And yet… that aura had overwhelmed him?

The doubt lingered only for a heartbeat.

Volk was not one to be shaken by questions.

GrrrRRRRR…

Gritting his fanged teeth, he turned his gaze back to the chaos that had erupted behind him.

The sight that met him made his fists clench until his knuckles were white against his green skin.

His horde was in turmoil, a storm of gnashing teeth and flashing steel, but they were no longer the ones dealing the pain. They were the ones receiving it.

The source of this chaos was unmistakable.

A line of towering figures, clad in the tarnished steel of the ancient dead, moved with silent menace through the ranks of his warriors.

They wore the marks of ages—rust-streaked armor, battered and scarred, as though they had been through countless battles and now lived again only by some dark, unholy will.

They marched with the inexorable calm of death itself.

There was no breath, no heartbeat in them, only a sickly green light glowing from behind iron masks, flickering and pulsing like the last embers of a dying flame.

One of Volk’s Ogres roared, a bellowing cry of defiance, as it hurled itself at one of the death-bound warriors.

The Ogre’s massive club swung down with the force to shatter boulders, hurtling toward the armored figure with a speed that made the air tremble.

However, with a swift, unnatural grace, the figure sidestepped, its armored boot scraping against the ground in a bone-chilling hiss.

Before the Ogre could recover, the deathly knight drove its blade upward, a jagged, darkened steel that sliced through the air with a silent precision.

The blade found flesh, biting deep.

The Ogre’s roar cut off into a gurgling choke, blood spraying as it slumped to its knees, defeated in a single, merciless stroke.

Volk’s heart pounded as he watched.

Tudub! Tudub! Tudub!

The Ogre’s once-bright eyes dulled, its hulking form falling forward, defeated.

His roar split the air, echoing like thunder, “NOOO! HORDE, SMASH THEM!”

But even as Volk cried out, another scene unfolded before him.

An Orc warrior, battle-scarred and fierce, raised its axe high, letting out a battle cry that echoed in defiance.

It rushed forward, “GRAAAAA!!” swinging wildly at another of the dead warriors.

The axe crashed against the knight’s shield with a sound like shattering stone—CRACK! But the knight didn’t falter.

It absorbed the blow with a chilling calm, then stepped forward, bashing its shield into the Orc’s chest with a bone-jarring crunch.

The Orc stumbled back, gasping, but the death-bound warrior was relentless.

Its sword sliced out in a deadly arc, catching the Orc across the chest, splitting armor and flesh alike.

With a final, gasping wheeze, the Orc toppled, its fierce spirit extinguished.

Volk’s fury grew, his breath coming in deep, ragged growls as he watched his kin being butchered.

He felt each death like a blow against his own flesh.

Another cry broke through his rage, “HUGAAARRGGG!!” drawing his eyes to yet another of his warriors—a massive Ogre who stood, muscles rippling, heaving its war hammer.

It swung with all its strength, a crushing blow that could shatter a stone wall. But the knight facing it moved with an impossible, eerie speed.

The deathly warrior spun, sidestepping the hammer, then lunged with its sword.

The blade plunged into the Ogre’s side, twisting as it buried deep.

The Ogre staggered, dropping its hammer as blood poured from its wound, pooling dark and thick on the ground.

The knight didn’t give it a chance to recover, wrenching the sword free and striking again, felling the Ogre with a brutal efficiency that left Volk seething.

With each fallen kin, Volk’s growl deepened, turning into a low, ominous rumble.

His teeth ground together, and his fists tightened until his knuckles cracked.

His horde, his warriors, his blood-bound kin—they were being cut down, defeated with a chilling ease that sent an uncharacteristic chill through his spine.

“ENOUGH!” Volk’s voice roared, thundering across the battlefield. He surged forward, massive feet pounding the ground. “Volk SMASH THESE MONSTERS!”

He charged at one of the armored figures, his entire body vibrating with fury and intent.

The ground shook beneath him as he bore down on the knight, every muscle coiling in readiness to crush his opponent.

As he neared, he sensed it—a suffocating, chilling aura radiating from the creature.

It was unlike any force he had felt before, a presence thick with death and decay that seeped into his skin, gnawing at his very essence.

But Volk shoved the feeling aside, baring his teeth in a fierce snarl.

“RAAAAAAGH!”

He bellowed, launching himself forward. His fist crashed into the knight’s armored chest with a deafening BAM!

The blow was enough to send the creature staggering, its form thrown off balance for just a moment.

But it was just that—a moment.

The knight righted itself with a mechanical precision, its head turning toward Volk with an eerie calm.

Then, with a swift, calculated movement, it retaliated. Its gauntleted fist shot forward, slamming into Volk’s chest with a force that drove him back, the impact resounding through his bones.

He grunted, stumbling as he felt the breath forced from his lungs. But he held his ground, digging his feet into the dirt.

“YOU WEAK CREATURE!” Volk snarled, his voice rumbling with fury. He threw himself at the knight again, his fists swinging in powerful arcs, each strike accompanied by a thunderous roar. “RAAAAAHH! YOU DIE HERE!”

His knuckles met the knight’s armor in a series of brutal impacts—BAM! BAM! BAM!—each punch driving a dent into the darkened steel.

However, as he kept swinging his gigantic fist, Volk felt it again, that oppressive, draining energy that clung to the knight like a second skin, seeping into him with each blow, gnawing at his strength.

The knight’s head tilted, as though observing him with a detached interest. Then it moved, its speed blurring as it ducked under Volk’s swing, slamming its shield into his side with bone-crushing force.

KRA-KOOM!

The impact sent Volk sprawling, the earth splintering beneath him as he crashed down, dust rising in a choking cloud around him.

“GRRRRAAAAAAHHH!”

Volk roared, scrambling to his feet.

His vision blurred with rage, and he charged forward, ignoring the heaviness creeping through his limbs, the relentless drain of his strength.

He swung again, catching another knight in the shoulder, forcing it to stagger back.

But before he could press his advantage, another figure closed in, its sword flashing in a deadly arc.

Volk twisted, feeling the blade slice past him, close enough that he felt the chill of death brush his skin.

The knight pressed its advantage, driving him back, step by punishing step, until Volk felt his back slam into something solid—a wall of armored bodies surrounding him, cutting off his escape.

He roared, swinging his fists in every direction, striking steel with every blow, the sound echoing across the battlefield.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

His knuckles split, his muscles straining as he fought against the unyielding wall of death that encircled him. But with each swing, he felt his strength slipping, the deathly energy clawing at his resolve, sapping his will to fight.

“YOU… WILL… NOT… STOP… VOLK!” he roared, his voice echoing with a defiance that seemed to shake the very air around him.

But the knights moved as one, a seamless, merciless tide that closed in on him, their swords raised, their cold, hollow eyes fixed on their prey.

One struck him in the side, the blade slicing deep, and he roared, twisting to face it, only to be met with another strike from behind, driving him to his knees.

As he struggled, he felt a shadow loom over him.

He looked up, his vision blurring, and saw the creature that had summoned these warriors, its twisted face sneering down at him.

“Pitiful creature,” it murmured, a mocking gleam in its eyes. “Your strength means nothing here.”

Volk snarled, his voice hoarse, but he couldn’t find the words.

His strength, his fury, his very will- everything felt like it was slipping away, lost in the cold, unyielding grip of death that surrounded him.

However, even as the darkness closed in, he refused to fall silent, his growls echoing defiantly across the battlefield.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep