TIDE, CHANGES

The Death Monarch's laughter echoed like a twisted symphony across the blood-soaked field as he raised his hand, dark magic swirling around his bony fingers.

Volk, breathing hard, his muscles taut with rage and defiance, fixed his gaze on the undead sorcerer.

The aura of death surrounding the Death Monarch's fist pulsed like a living thing, and Volk could feel the oppressive weight of the magic bearing down on him, chilling him to the bone.

"Ah, Ogre!" the Death Monarch sneered, his voice booming across the battlefield.

"Look at you, clawing and scraping with brute force alone. Do you honestly think you can challenge me?"

He waved his hand, sending a wave of dark energy crashing into Volk.

The force hit like a storm, each tendril of magic searing his skin as it wrapped around him, threatening to drag him to his knees.

Volk staggered but refused to yield.