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His bulging muscles twisted and flexed with each savage strike, his skin glistening with a sickly sheen of sweat and grime as he pushed forward, his primal rage exploding into each blow.

"GRAAAAAHHH!"

Volk\'s guttural scream boomed out, shaking the ground beneath him as his fist connected with the massive arm of the zombie.

With a sickening crack, the limb was torn free, black ichor spraying from the gaping wound like a fountain of decay.

The fetid stench intensified, mixing with the sulfurous aroma of Volk\'s own sweat, creating a nauseating aura that clung to the air.

The giant zombie staggered back slightly, a momentary shudder in its massive form.

Volk grinned wildly, his yellowed tusks bared as he prepared to lunge again.

"OGRAAA!" he snarled, plunging forward, raising his fist high to smash the creature\'s skull.

His muscles tensed, veins popping like darkened cords against his thick skin as he prepared the next brutal blow.

But then, as if in answer to his relentless aggression, the rotting flesh around the zombie\'s stomach began to shift and swell.

Blackened, decaying tendrils twisted and coiled over the surface, stretching as if something inside was desperately clawing its way out.

The flesh tore open, revealing two gaping, oozing wounds.

Dark bile seeped out, dribbling like thick tar over the creature\'s abdomen.

Volk paused, caught off guard by the sight of two familiar silhouettes emerging from within the disgusting openings.

The middle-aged woman and Bong Me-Eon stepped forward, the fetid stench swirling around them like a cloak.

Their eyes burned with a deadly resolve, and before Volk could react, both unleashed a powerful surge of necromantic energy, spirals of dark light whipping forward with a fierce, otherworldly glow.

"Vra\'khael Tenevos!"

A familiar incantation shot through the air swiftly that sliced the very air that Volk was with.

From her outstretched hand, shadows condensed into a spear of swirling darkness, sharp as an obsidian blade, and launched toward Volk.

It struck the corner of his, the impact rippling through his armor-like skin on the face and embedding with an eerie, sickening hiss of cut.

A pulse of necrotic energy spread through the half of his face, tendrils of darkness clawing at his essence, but he growled, GRAAAAH! regenerating and removing the curse within it instantly!

Another one shot through as an unknown dark necromantic energy shot him down!

"GRAAAAHHH!"

Volk bellowed, stumbling backward.

Though the dark energy barely scorched his thick, monstrous hide, it disrupted his rhythm, throwing him off balance.

He raised his arm to shield himself, snarling in fury.

The zombie seized this brief opening.

With a creak of decayed sinew and bone, its remaining arm swung in a swift, brutal arc.

WHAM!

The impact sent Volk sprawling backward, his massive frame slamming into the ground with a force that shook the battlefield.

"GRRRRAAAAAA!"

Volk roared, the earth cracking beneath him as he forced himself to his feet, fury blazing in his red-rimmed eyes.

He charged forward again, fists clenched, teeth bared in a predatory grin as he prepared to pummel the giant zombie once more.

Yet, just as he closed the distance, the zombie\'s grotesque torso contorted again.

Another revolting tear opened, and the two women emerged once more, their hands glowing with the dark essence of necromantic magic.

"Zhrak\'tul Morthos!"

"Kal\'vyr Nox\'ara!"

"Vael\'thra Umbros!"

"Thrael\'kar Sombreus!"

"Nyr\'vak Arkanis!"

"Dhrav\'ek Nethoros!"

"Vhlar\'kael Erevos!"

"Myrr\'gath Necros!"

"Vorth\'kal Tenebrus!"

They launched another barrage of spells at him, each bolt of energy a twisted, writhing mass of shadows that disoriented him.

"GRRRRRAHHH!"

Volk bellowed, swinging his arm wildly, trying to dispel the dark magic that clung to him like a swarm of angry wasps.

But the spells created enough of a distraction that the zombie\'s arm whipped out again, hitting him squarely in the chest with a force that sent him careening backward.

CRASH!

Volk\'s massive body skidded across the rocky ground, furrows of dust and debris flying up in his wake as he ground to a halt, barely avoiding a jagged rock by mere inches.

"OGRAAA!" he screamed in rage, pushing himself up.

Every inch of his muscles screamed with fury as he charged forward, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles cracked.

He lunged at the zombie again, launching himself with ferocity that seemed impossible for a creature of his size.

But as he closed in, he felt a sharp prickling along his skin—a warning, the faint pulse of necromantic magic brewing just ahead.

From the zombie\'s torn-open belly, the two women emerged once more, their hands raised, spells already forming at their fingertips.

They launched another barrage, filling the air with dark, crackling energy.

The blasts hit him with relentless precision, momentarily blinding him with their eerie glow.

He stumbled, thrown off balance, and in that instant, the zombie\'s remaining arm descended like a hammer.

THUD!

Volk barely had time to react before he was slammed into the ground, his bones rattling from the force of the blow.

The impact reverberated through him, a bone-crunching force that would have shattered a lesser being.

"GRAAAAHHH!"

Volk\'s scream of rage filled the air as he scrambled to his feet once more.

His body regenerated rapidly, but each strike and each spell left him slower, more vulnerable, his fury growing with each punishing blow.

He was unrelenting, however, his bloodlust fueling him as he charged again, fists swinging wildly as he attacked with every ounce of strength he could muster.

Yet the zombie matched him, blow for blow.

GRAAAAAAHH

He screamed in frustration.

Each time Volk advanced, the two women would reappear, launching another spell to throw him off balance.

"Akhr\'mar Shadros!"

The zombie would strike again, its rotting, misshapen limbs landing with precision, forcing him back time and again.

Finally, Volk stopped, breathing heavily, his chest heaving as he staggered, his skin bruised and cracked, blood trickling from various wounds.

His muscles ached, a deep, throbbing pain that gnawed at his endurance.

His regeneration was slowing, and for the first time, he felt a trace of exhaustion.

But his rage... it only grew.

"RRRRAAAHHH!" he roared, shaking with anger, his fist slamming into the ground, cracking the stone beneath him.

He glared at the zombie, hatred burning in his gaze as he snarled.

His breaths came in heavy, ragged pants as he wracked his mind, desperate to find a way to turn the tide.

Then, over the cacophony of the battle, a sound cut through the haze of fury clouding his mind—a deep, guttural call from the distance.

"WARCHIEF!"