Kidnapped Ophelia

Zorvax's eyes narrowed into sharp slits as he eyed the human opponent clad in gleaming armor from head to toe. The armor shone oddly under the dim post-apocalyptic sun, making the man look more like a ghost than a human. The man's face, hidden behind a metallic mask, added a chilling layer of mystery.

With his heart pounding hard – partly from the fight, partly from worry for Ophelia – Zorvax barked, "Who are you?" His voice, though steady, carried a simmering anger. He circled the armoured figure, each step careful and deliberate, like a cat stalking its prey.

The human opponent stood silent, their stance defensive yet brimming with quiet power. The only sound breaking the tense silence was the clinking of the armour as the man shifted, creating a haunting rhythm in the otherwise desolate street.

Zorvax's fists tightened, the muscles in his arms tensing. "What do you want with us?" he pressed, his eyes scanning for any weakness in the man's defence.