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Suddenly, without warning, Volk's knee buckled beneath him, and he dropped to the ground with a heavy thud.

The sound echoed ominously through the chamber, bouncing off the stone walls like a warning.

For a moment, he was confused. His body, though battered and bruised, had endured the chieftains' magical onslaught. But now, his legs trembled, refusing to support him.

The gathered Orcs of each clan stiffened.

Their eyes darted between each other, uncertain.

The chieftains, still heaving with labored breaths, exchanged glances.

Slowly, a cruel smirk spread across the Bloodfang chieftain's face. He straightened up, despite his own exhaustion, and nodded to the others.

"Let's do it. The Orc Formation," the Bloodfang chieftain muttered darkly, his voice low and full of deadly intent.

Volk's eyes narrowed. He planted his hands firmly on the ground, pushing himself back to his feet, but his muscles screamed in protest.

"Orc Formation?" he asked, his tone laced with suspicion. The name sounded unfamiliar, even to him.

Before he could demand an answer, an old, grizzled Orc from the Dreadmaw Clan stumbled forward, his face twisted with panic.

His hands shook as he gestured wildly at Volk, his voice rising to a terrified shout.

"No! Volk, you don't understand!" the old Orc cried, his voice breaking from urgency. His eyes darted toward the chieftains, who were now gathering in a loose circle, their hands already glowing with power.

"The Orc Formation… it's not something you can fight against! It's a spell—a forbidden magic created long ago by the Orc Clans to face foes that no single warrior could defeat. It's the only way we could bring down enemies like Warlocks and Dark Elven Witches."

Volk, still on one knee, clenched his jaw. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't respond as they should. His eyes flickered between the old Orc and the chieftains, who now moved in precise, synchronized steps.

"They're combining their strength, Volk!" the old Orc shouted, his voice trembling.

"When the Orc Formation is complete, they'll summon a spell so powerful it can strike both body and spirit! You don't understand—no enemy has ever survived it!"

The words hit Volk like a hammer from the sky.

Strike both body and spirit?

He began to knit the knot. He could withstand the physical attacks, that much he knew. But if they were targeting his spirit, even his Grum-gar Ogre form wouldn't protect him.

The weight of the old Orc's warning settled heavily on his chest.

"Run, Volk!" the old Orc urged, his voice cracking with desperation. "You have to get out of here! No one can survive the Orc Formation! Not even you! Not even in your Ogre form!"

The urgency in the old Orc's voice clawed at Volk's resolve.

He had never heard this old man speak in such a frantic tone.

His heart pounded against his ribcage, his breathing shallow as adrenaline coursed through his veins. His instincts screamed at him to run, to retreat before it was too late.

But before he could move, before he could even attempt to escape, the Ironhide chieftain, his body still gleaming with his hardened iron skin, thrust his hands into the air.

His magic circle flared to life, and chains of glowing energy erupted from the ground, wrapping around Volk's wrists and ankles with a loud crack.

"Bind him!" the Ironhide chieftain shouted, his voice filled with venomous glee.

The chains tightened with a force that made Volk grunt in pain.

He strained against them, his muscles bulging as he tried to break free, but the more he struggled, the tighter the chains became.

Every second that passed was like a vice clamping down harder and harder.

Volk's breathing became more ragged as he fought against the binding magic. His eyes widened with a mixture of disbelief and anger.

How could these chieftains, who just moments ago had been on the edge of defeat, suddenly trap him so easily?

His body trembled as he pulled against the chains, but the magic was too strong.

The old Orc from the Dreadmaw Clan shouted again, his voice a frantic screech now. "Volk! You can't break free! No one ever has! Run if you can, break the chains!"

But Volk was trapped.

The magic held him fast, and all around him, the chieftains moved in unison, their magic circles glowing brighter and brighter with each passing second.

As the energy around them intensified, the air in the chamber grew thick with the pulsating hum of raw power.

The Frostbite chieftain, his hands glowing with a blue icy aura, raised his arms high above his head. "Let the cold embrace your spirit!" he howled, and a sphere of freezing energy began to form above him.

Next to him, the Thunderstrike chieftain smirked, electricity crackling between his fingertips. "I'll light the path to your doom!" he roared, sending tendrils of lightning to join the swirling mass of magic.

The Fireblood chieftain, fire blazing in his eyes, clenched his fists as flames erupted from his hands.

"Burn in the fire of our fury, Volk!" he bellowed, his voice full of malice as a swirling orb of flame joined the growing magic ball.

One by one, the chieftains of each clan poured their remaining mana into the magic orb at the center of their formation.

It grew larger, brighter, more chaotic with every passing moment.

Volk could feel the heat from it, the sheer power radiating outward like an unstoppable storm.

Despite the chains binding him, Volk continued to struggle. His muscles screamed in agony as he tried to tear himself free, but the magic held him fast.

The weight of the energy in the air pressed down on him like a mountain.

The old Orc from Dreadmaw watched in horror, his face pale as he shouted one final time, "Volk, get out of there! You can't take this! You'll die—body and spirit!"

But Volk, despite the panic gripping his mind, forced himself to focus. He gritted his teeth, pushing down the rising fear in his chest.

His eyes locked on the massive orb of magic energy, now crackling with power as it hovered above the chieftains.

He couldn't run. He couldn't break free. But something deep inside him refused to give up. His breathing slowed, and a strange calm settled over him.

If this was how it was going to be, then he'd face it head-on.

The chieftains roared in unison as they hurled the magic energy ball toward Volk. It tore through the air like a meteor, leaving a trail of fire, ice, and lightning in its wake.

WHOOSH!

Time seemed to slow as the massive ball of magic hurtled toward him.

Every instinct screamed at him to brace for the impact, to prepare for the pain, the destruction. But instead of fear, something unexpected happened.

Volk smiled.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

As the blazing magic energy roared closer, its heat scorching his skin, Volk's lips curled into a calm, confident grin.

He could feel the power of the spell all over his face and chest, the sheer force of it nearly overwhelming. But at that moment, he wasn't afraid.

Instead of being afraid, he would suddenly show a confident smile.