Aden's cry of pain was lost in the sound of his own ragged breathing, but he didn't falter. With a swift, vicious kick, he sent the High Orc stumbling back, its grip on his hand broken.
Seizing the moment, Aden used both his hands to drive the sword deeper into the High Orc's skull. The creature's body jerked, its limbs twitching in a macabre dance, before finally collapsing to the ground. The High Orc was dead, its massive frame motionless, and Aden Vasco stood victorious.
The Hounds approached, their faces a picture of awe and shock.
"By the gods," one of them breathed, "he did it. He actually did it."
They began to move closer, their eyes shining with a mixture of admiration and fear, but their leader halted them with a raised hand.
Aden, however, didn't seem to notice. He stood over the High Orc's lifeless body, his chest heaving with exhaustion, and began to unleash a flurry of brutal punches. Both his hands rose and fell in a rhythmic, merciless motion, each blow landing with a sickening crunch.
The High Orc's face was transformed into a bloody, pulped mess, its features unrecognizable.
Finally, Aden stopped, his arms trembling with fatigue. He stood over the High Orc, limping, his eyes blazing with a fierce, primal energy. He had done it. He had survived.
The Hounds watched, their faces pale, as Aden stood there, his chest heaving with exhaustion. They seemed unsure of how to react, their eyes darting between Aden and the High Orc's mangled corpse.
The leader's voice was barely above a whisper, "What... what have we just witnessed?"
As the Hounds approached Aden to congratulate him on his incredible victory over the High Orc, their leader suddenly stopped in his tracks, his eyes fixed on something in the distance.
The others followed his gaze, their faces expectant, but Aden remained oblivious, still basking in the adrenaline of his triumph.
"Wait," the leader whispered, his voice low and urgent, his hand raised in a cautionary gesture. The Hounds paused, their eyes scanning the horizon, searching for the source of their leader's concern.
Suddenly, the leader and the Hounds froze, their movements halted as if time itself had stopped. A sudden, deafening burst of bloodlust exploded across the battlefield, like a tidal wave of unbridled fury.
The air seemed to thicken and writhe, as if the very fabric of reality was being twisted and distorted by the sheer intensity of the High Orcs' bloodlust.
The Hounds stumbled back, their eyes wide with terror, as if they were being physically pressed down by the overwhelming force of the bloodlust.
The leader's eyes widened in utter disbelief and horror, his finger trembling as he pointed towards the mountain behind the orc settlement.
Aden's gaze followed the leader's, his eyes scanning the horizon with a growing sense of dread. And then, he saw it. His breath caught in his throat, his heart skipping a beat, as he took in the sight before him.
On the ridge of the mountain, standing like colossal, crimson monoliths, were around 8 High Orcs, their skin a deep, burning red that seemed to pulse with an inner fire. Behind them, an army of orcs stretched out, their eyes fixed on the settlement with an unblinking, hunger-filled gaze, their faces twisted into cruel, savage grins.
The High Orcs stood with heavy, brutal-looking weapons in their arms, their eyes blazing with an intense, almost feral bloodlust that seemed to burn with an inner fury. The air around them seemed to distort and ripple, as if the very presence of the High Orcs was warping the fabric of reality.
It was as if they had been drawn by the commotion, the sounds of battle and death that had echoed through the valley. The High Orcs seemed to have been summoned by the very turmoil that had occurred in this place, their presence a dark and ominous response to the chaos that had been unleashed.
The Hounds exchanged fearful glances, their faces pale, their eyes wide with terror. They seemed to shrink back, their bodies tense, as if expecting the High Orcs to charge at any moment.
One thing was now horrifyingly clear to Aden:
He was never supposed to return alive.
The realization dawned on him like a dark, crushing weight, casting a pall of despair over his already battered and bruised body.
Was this the end?
It fell across his face, cold and silver.
In that silence, amidst ash and blood, he reflected.
Fate had started playing its game.
And Aden was just a pawn in it.