It wasn't really a fight anymore. It was the start of a massacre.
Two orcs still standing. Three demonic tyrannosaurs — well, two fully active and one barely clinging to life. On paper, the numbers spoke for themselves. But numbers are for strategists. Orcs are all muscle, instinct, and fury.
And the grey-skinned orc… he was nothing ordinary.
Larger than his kin, his movements were surprisingly quick for such a hulking frame. He had that cold, contained rage — the kind that made him a monster among monsters.
Without a second of hesitation, he charged straight at the beasts.
His club — a crude weapon wrapped in iron — crashed down on the nearest head with a brutal CRACK, muffled only by skin and bone. The beast reeled, but the orc didn't stop to admire the hit.
Behind him, his wounded companion surged forward despite the blood pouring from his torn side. He raised his axe, swung it in a wide arc from the ground to the creature's throat.
SCHLACK.
