Leon killed the stragglers. He killed the last of the mutant beasts prowling the outskirts. By the time he was finished, there was no life left in the dungeon except him and one other.
The King.
The one final silhouette waiting in the distance.
Leon could feel it—the surge of power, the looming presence, the crushing aura. His body thrummed with anticipation. His fingers tightened around his daggers. His grin stretched, bloodstained and feral.
"I'm almost there," he whispered. "Just one more level. Just one last fight."
And then he saw him.
A familiar shadow. A massive figure, standing tall against the dying light of the savannah. The Orc King.
The final battle was about to begin.
Upon seeing the Orc's silhouette, Leon grinned wide, his silver hair swaying slightly under the breeze of the savannah.
