บท 116: Warchief

The air was still thick with violent tension as Volk stood amidst the clearing smoke, his bruised and battered body a testament to the battle.

Yet, there was an undeniable confidence in his posture, his calm expression almost mocking the chieftains who had believed him defeated just moments ago.

He slowly lifted his hand, clenching and unclenching his fist as if testing his strength.

Clack! Clack! Clack!

The silence of disbelief was broken by the first murmur among the chieftains.

"H-How…?" The Bloodfang chieftain's voice trembled, the disbelief clear in his bloodshot eyes. "How did he—?"

Another chieftain, from the Stonefist Clan, growled in frustration. His massive fists clenched at his sides, veins bulging in his neck.

"Impossible! He should have been crushed!"

The Frostbite chieftain, his face pale and ashen, glared at Volk. "No one survives the Orc Formation. No one!" His voice was rising, a mix of fear and confusion.