weapons tightening until their knuckles whitened. Their king's command forced them forward, but it also gave them what they craved—an outlet for their fury.
They marched into the arena as one, their weapons gleaming in the dying sunlight, the dust swirling like a storm around their massive forms.
Their thoughts burned with one desire: to break this human, to humiliate him, to watch him beg.
Leon smirked, twirling his daggers lazily, his posture deliberately relaxed. His grin was infuriating, mocking, daring them to strike.
"Come then," he taunted, his voice carrying across the arena. "All of you at once. Let's make this fun."
The Orcs' eyes blazed red with fury.
Then, with a roar that shook the field, all six generals charged, their combined strength crashing down like an avalanche.
And Leon, grinning like a madman, braced himself for the storm.
At first, things were hard for Leon.
