Volk’s body was a whirlwind of primal fury, his muscles pulsating with each step, each thunderous strike against the Death Monarch.

His roars echoed across the field, a guttural bellow that grew stronger with each impact.

Blood and dust coated his skin, yet he was unbroken—each hit thrown at him only served to make him fiercer, his body hardening, his spirit blazing brighter.

The Death Monarch laughed, a low, sinister sound that filled the battlefield with its chill.

His skeletal form shifted as he watched the Ogre rise again, amused but increasingly intrigued.

“Seventeenth empowerment,” he murmured, feeling the rise in Volk’s power like a crackling surge through the air.

His interest was piqued as he sense tod the depths of Volk’s rage deepening, churning like a storm.

Volk charged again, his fist a battering ram of raw force, and with a flick of his wrist, the Death Monarch swatted him aside, sending him sprawling across the ground.

However, in mere moments, Volk was on his feet once more, rage radiating from him like molten heat.

“Eighteenth empowerment,” the Death Monarch taunted, his voice dripping with amusement.

He could feel it, the Ogre’s strength blooming, raw and untamed.

Again, Volk lunged forward, each movement a testament to his unbreakable will.

This time, his punch was a blur, his speed magnified, but the Death Monarch simply sidestepped, delivering a swift kick to Volk’s gut, launching him back.

“Nineteenth empowerment!” he called out, a delighted spark in his eyes.

He relished this grotesque symphony of pain and growth, witnessing Volk evolve before him with every beatdown.

Volk slammed back onto the ground, each crack in the earth around him seeming to deepen as he rose yet again.

He let out a guttural scream, and the very air vibrated with his fury.

He launched himself forward, faster, stronger, each sinew in his body coiled like a spring, and his fist connected with the Death Monarch’s arm in an explosion of power.

The Death Monarch sneered, barely moving, but now, a faint twinge of exertion crossed his brow.

“Ah, the twentieth empowerment,” he remarked, almost gleefully. “How far can you go, Ogre?”

Volk didn’t hesitate.

Even as his knuckles bled and bones cracked, he attacked again. And again. Each time, the Death Monarch would counter with an effortless slap, a brutal backhand, or a bone-crushing stomp.

Every blow sent Volk hurtling away, battered and bloodied, yet unyielding.

“Twenty-fifth empowerment…!”

The Death Monarch’s voice rang out, triumphant, as he raised a fist and struck Volk with a vicious uppercut, sending him skyward like a missile.

Volk crashed back to the ground, the impact leaving a massive crater, dust and rock flying in all directions.

Yet, he rose, panting, eyes blazing with an unquenchable fire.

The Death Monarch’s face lit up, the exhilaration in his twisted smile gleaming. “Ah, yes! The thirtieth empowerment! You’re becoming something quite… interesting!”

Volk launched himself back, his punches now trailing energy, each blow seeming to ignite with the force of his strength.

However, the Death Monarch met him, deflecting, countering, each strike a brutal response that sent Volk flying.

Yet, with each collision, with each bruise and wound, Volk’s power escalated.

“Thirty-fifth empowerment!” the Death Monarch mocked, delivering a bone-jarring punch to Volk’s shoulder.

“You’re gaining, Ogre!” he laughed, stepping back as Volk, slower to rise now, yet still defiant, stood tall. Stay connected with empire

His chest heaved, his body bloodied, but there was a new light in his eyes—a light that matched his fury.

CRASH! Volk surged forward with a roar, his fists faster, harder, and the Death Monarch responded in kind.

Each hit struck deeper, each counter more fierce. “Forty-third empowerment!” the Death Monarch called out with gleeful excitement, his voice rising with a manic thrill.

He backhanded Volk with a force that shattered a row of trees behind him, but Volk only grinned, his lips split and bleeding.

He charged again, his strength seemingly limitless.

WHAM!

A headbutt.

Volk was thrown back, staggering but unfazed.

He dashed forward, his muscles taut, his blows more calculated, his stance unwavering.

“Fifty-seventh empowerment,” the Death Monarch shouted, his eyes wild with exhilaration.

“The limits of your power are astonishing! How many times can you withstand me, brute?”

Volk roared, his voice raw, his eyes alight with an otherworldly intensity.

With every blow, he was being reborn, stronger, faster, his body adapting, evolving in response to the punishment.

His strikes hit like meteors, each one shattering the ground beneath them.

His aura blazed around him, each wave of his rage adding to the violent crescendo of his power.

“Seventy-fifth empowerment!”

The Death Monarch was almost shrieking with laughter now, his hands trembling with delight as he delivered a punishing blow to Volk’s chest.

Yet, Volk didn’t falter—he lunged, catching the Death Monarch off guard as he managed to land a blow across his face, sending him skidding back a few steps.

The Death Monarch’s eyes glinted with genuine thrill as he wiped the blood from his lip, staring at Volk with wild, boundless excitement.

“Eighty-fifth empowerment!”

The Death Monarch threw his head back, laughing with mad glee.

“Incredible, Ogre! You grow with each strike! I can feel your very cells screaming, adapting!”

His tone turned darker, more frenzied.

“Yes! Yes, this is what I want to see! Continue, show me more!”

Volk’s fists crackled with pure, unadulterated power, each movement of his body burning the air around him, making the heat surpass the hotness of a lava.

He bellowed, Grrrrr, charging once more with strikes that are as loud as a whipping blade.

The Death monarch easily countered, deflected and misdirected all Volk’s attacks. And their clashes were like thunder rumbles in the sky.

“Ninety-third empowerment,” the Death monarch crowned, his undead face flushed with crazed mania.

He met Volk’s charge head on, Kabam! With their colliding strength shaking the earth beneath them.

Then, with a final crazed roar, the Death monarch stepped back with his undead eyes wide filled with awe and unexplainable delight.

“The hundredth fold empowerment, impossible, unbelievable,” he whispered, almost reverently.

His hands unconsciously came together, like a slow deliberate clap! Clap… Clap… Clap… Clap…

His gaze was fixed on Volk, with an expression of genuine admiration, mingling with a genuine amusement along with it.

The Death Monarch let out a loud, exultant laugh, with his arms thrown open wide as he looked at Volk with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Incredible, remarks, I, the Death Monarch never expected to witness such an Ogre that can empower himself hundredfold! Must have been a realm where you came from.”

The Death Monarch would salivate, “And, now, we are on par when it comes to strength and magic!”

The Death Monarch’s skeletal frame shifted into a more focused stance, his eerie gaze locked on Volk.

His grin stretched wider, a twisted mockery of anticipation as he stretched his arms, cracking the bones as if waking from a long, ancient slumber.

“Ahh… finally. This is what I hoped for—a real challenge. And here I thought I’d have to wait an eternity to feel this thrill again.”

Volk charged with all his might, his fists swinging like hammers, BANG BAN BANG! each strike accompanied by a guttural roar that shook the ground.

But the Death Monarch was ready, his body moving fluidly, dodging and weaving with almost effortless grace.

“HA! Is that it, brute?” he taunted, sidestepping Volk’s punch and delivering a swift elbow to his ribs, sending the Ogre stumbling sideways.

“Your power is impressive, but your form? Sloppy. Here, let me teach you how a true fighter moves!”

BAM! He drove his knee into Volk’s gut, making the massive Ogre double over before slamming his fist into Volk’s back, sending him sprawling across the ground.

Volk growled, GURAAAAAHH!! pushing himself up, his eyes blazing with unrestrained fury.

His body was battered, bruised, yet he was unbroken, each hit fueling the fire of his rage.

The Death Monarch chuckled as Volk rose to his feet.

“Come on then, get up. This is just a warm-up!” he sneered.

“You may have power, but strength alone isn’t enough. You need precision, control.”

He demonstrated with a quick jab aimed at Volk’s shoulder, swiftly

following it with a spinning backfist that knocked Volk off his feet.

Volk let out a deafening roar, his voice tearing through the air, “DO NOT MOCK VOOOOOOLK!”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep