Avelin, swung his war axe with fierce roarm
Each swing sends a powerful force blast aimed to carve through the monstrous horde. His eyes gleamed with anticipation of the praise that would follow his victory. With each mighty arc of his axe, he watched the monsters split and splatter, expecting their numbers to dwindle.
But as the monsters fell under his assault, something horrifying happened. Instead of shrinking, the creatures seemed to multiply. The slimy masses he had cleaved through began to split and grow and their numbers increased with every strike.
"What the fuck?"
Avelin's face twisted into a mask of disbelief and rage. His eyes widened, and he roared in frustration.
His movements became frantic and a massive war axe was swung with more power than before and each blow accompanied by a thunderous whoosh and a shower of gore.