Real threat

As the Horde began to settle down, exhaustion finally overtaking their adrenaline, they prepared to rest. Ogres, orcs, and even the newly-joined goblins sprawled across the clearing, some leaning against trees while others simply collapsed on the soft forest floor. The air was filled with the sound of heavy breathing, the occasional grunt, and the low hum of wind rustling through the trees.

Volk leaned against a boulder, his crimson eyes scanning the dark horizon. His gauntlets rested in his lap, still faintly glowing from the battle, though their energy was now calm. He had no intention of relaxing—not yet. Though the beasts were defeated, something about the way they moved and attacked lingered in his mind. They had been organized, perhaps unnaturally so.