Face to face with the real orc, not a clone

Nostalgia washed over Michael as he perched in a tree branch, reminiscent of his first deadly encounter in this world with the nagas. Now, three years later, he was back in a similar position, lying in wait, but this time his quarry was Torug and his band of followers, not the serpentine nagas.

Listening intently, he caught the sound of rustling leaves and snapping twigs, signaling the approach of his targets. 

"Word really travels fast," Michael murmured to himself, acknowledging how swiftly the rumors he'd seeded had lured Torug into his trap.

Touching the medallion on his chest, he activated his armor. Dark plates materialized and encased him completely, the skull emblem on his chest gleaming ominously with red eyes. Under the shadow of his hooded skull mask, Michael's gaze was fixed and intense as he observed the group entering the ruins.