Round 2

"Master? Are you ready for round 2?" Commander Valthraxi's voice cut through the stillness that lingered after the ethereal spectacle. Narel turned to face his loyal companion, his expression resolute.

"It's fine," Narel declared with unwavering determination. "No matter how many there are, I will kill ALL OF THEM."

As if in response to his words, the horizon darkened with the arrival of thousands of monstrous figures. Narel's gaze narrowed as he assessed the approaching army, his senses heightened by the anticipation of battle.

"What are those, Valthraxi?" Narel inquired, his voice steady despite the looming threat.

"It's an orc army," Commander Valthraxi replied, his tone tinged with concern. "A formidable force, but nothing we can't handle."

Narel nodded, his mind already calculating strategies to confront the impending onslaught. "I see," he murmured, his eyes scanning the leading ranks of the orc horde. "Five thousand orcs and one commander, I think?"

"Correct," Valthraxi confirmed, his eyes scanning the horizon with practiced vigilance. "But with your strength and our combined tactics, they stand no chance."

Narel felt a surge of confidence coursing through him. "Ahh, good thing I recovered all my energy back there," he remarked, a hint of satisfaction coloring his voice. "Maybe because I leveled up after defeating that demon."

With a sense of purpose and resolve, Narel faced the approaching army, his determination unwavering. "Many, but they're just small fry for me," he declared, his voice carrying the assurance of a warrior ready to face any challenge that stood in his path.

As the orc army drew nearer, the battlefield braced for the clash that was about to unfold. Narel and Valthraxi stood side by side, their bond forged in the fires of countless battles. Together, they would confront this new challenge, drawing upon their strength, their skill, and their unwavering resolve to emerge victorious once again.

As the orc army approached, Narel's gaze fell upon the battlefield, where the fallen lay still, their lifeless forms scattered like discarded remnants of a forgotten battle. In a moment of inspiration, a plan formed in Narel's mind, a daring gambit born of desperation and determination.

"Narel spoke, his voice carrying a commanding tone. "Heed my words, come to life." His words resonated with a primal energy, infused with the power of his unwavering resolve. "Become my minion, I, wielder of the soul, grants life once more."

The air crackled with mystical energy as Narel's incantation reverberated across the battlefield. A surge of power pulsed through him, drawing upon the latent energies of the mystical realm. With a flourish of his hand, he unleashed the full force of his will, channeling his essence into the lifeless forms that lay before him.

All at once, the ground trembled as if stirred by an unseen force. From the depths of the earth, the fallen began to stir, their limbs twitching with newfound vitality. With each passing moment, the lifeless bodies rose from the ground, their eyes glowing with an otherworldly light.

Thousands, hundreds of dead rose from their slumber, their movements synchronized with the will of their new master. They stood, silent and obedient, awaiting Narel's command, their allegiance bound to the one who had granted them a second chance at life.

Narel surveyed his newfound army with a mixture of awe and satisfaction. The tide of battle had shifted in their favor, and now, with an army of the undead at his command, he was ready to face the orc horde with renewed strength and determination.

"fight," Narel declared, his voice ringing out across the battlefield. "With the power of the undead at my disposal, I shall emerge victorious against any who dare to challenge me, you made a very decision coming here."

With his army of the risen dead by his side, Narel prepared to lead them into battle, his heart filled with a fierce determination to overcome whatever obstacles lay in their path. The orc horde may have thought themselves formidable, but they had yet to face the full might of Narel and his undead legion.

As Narel's voice echoed across the battlefield, commanding the attention of both friend and foe alike, a sense of dread washed over the orc commander. His gaze darted between Narel and the undead legion standing at his command, disbelief and apprehension evident in his expression.

"How? How is this possible?" the orc commander muttered, his voice laced with incredulity. The sight of the undead army, obedient to Narel's every command, shook him to his core. Never before had he witnessed such a display of dark magic and necromancy.

However, despite his inner turmoil, the orc commander refused to falter. Drawing upon the confidence born of their overwhelming numbers, he rallied his troops with a defiant roar. "We have the advantage of numbers!" he bellowed, his voice carrying across the battlefield with unwavering conviction.

The orc horde, emboldened by their commander's words, surged forward with renewed determination. Their ranks stretched as far as the eye could see, a relentless tide of brute force and ferocity.

But Narel, undaunted by the orc's numerical superiority, stood resolute at the forefront of his undead army. With a steely gaze and unwavering resolve, he prepared to meet the oncoming onslaught head-on.

"Fear not the tide of their numbers," Narel proclaimed, his voice ringing out with a commanding presence. "For with the power of the undead at my disposal, we shall turn the tide of this battle in our favor. You made a grave decision coming here, orc commander, and now you shall face the consequences."

With a wave of his hand, Narel signaled his undead legion to advance, their ranks moving with eerie precision and silent determination. The clash of steel and the roar of battle filled the air as the opposing forces collided in a tumultuous melee.

Amidst the chaos of the battlefield, Narel's undead army proved to be a formidable force, their relentless advance striking fear into the hearts of the orc warriors. With each fallen enemy, the ranks of the undead swelled, their numbers replenished by the fallen foes who now fought at Narel's command.

As the battle raged on, the outcome remained uncertain. But one thing was clear – Narel, with the power of the undead at his disposal, stood poised to claim victory against any who dared to challenge him. The orc commander's decision to confront him on the battlefield would prove to be a grave mistake, one that would seal his fate in the annals of history.