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The orcs around him, who had been tense and on edge, were suddenly gripped by an unnatural fear.

"Yes!" the warlock screamed between fits of laughter.

"Yes, Dozer is already dead! He is nothing more than a lifeless husk! A body that I, Warlock Zenveil, control! I am the master! I am the one who bends his will to my own! He is my puppet, and you… you are nothing more than my playthings!"

As Zenveil\'s words echoed through the cavern, Volk felt a strange, unsettling sensation wash over him.

It was as if the very air around him had shifted, thickening with an oppressive force.

When the warlock had revealed his identity, it was as though a shockwave had rippled through the space, altering the atmosphere and making it heavy with dread.

Volk heard the clang of weapons falling to the ground, one after another.

Turning to look behind him, his eyes widened in shock.

His brethren—the fierce, battle-hardened orcs—stood paralyzed, their faces contorted in expressions of sheer terror.

Their eyes were wide, unblinking, fixed on Warlock Zenveil with a look that bordered on horror.

"What…?"

Volk began to ask, his voice trembling. But as he opened his mouth to speak, he felt it too—a primal dread that seized his body, locking his muscles in place.

His breath caught in his throat, and he found himself unable to move. His heart pounded in his chest, and he could its frantic drumbeat that echoed in his ears.

What\'s going on? he thought, panic setting in.

He could feel the fear crawling up his spine, a cold, clammy sensation that made his skin prickle.

Warlock Zenveil\'s laughter grew louder, more deranged.

"Grahahahahahahha!

The sight of the orcs frozen in fear seemed to delight him, and he spoke with a tone of maniacal amusement.

"Ah, the Hornless Orc tribe… my favorite," he purred, savoring the words. "The best subjects for our scientific experiments. You see, the Hornless Orcs possess something unique, something special… something that we warlocks find irresistible."

The warlock began to circle the orcs slowly, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure.

"Do you know what we warlocks love to do with your kind? We like to see what makes you tick, what makes you suffer. Let me share a few of our… experiments with you."

He pointed at one of the paralyzed orcs, his finger trembling with excitement.

"First, we like to test your pain tolerance. We push your bodies to the brink, see how much you can endure before you break. We peel away your flesh, layer by layer, while you scream for mercy. But we do not grant it. Oh no, we enjoy watching you writhe, watching your souls wither in agony."

Zenveil turned his gaze to another orc, who stood rigid with fear.

"Second, we experiment with your minds. We delve deep into your thoughts, your memories. We strip away your sanity, bit by bit, until you\'re nothing more than a hollow shell of your former self. We twist your reality, warp it until you can no longer tell what is real and what is an illusion. You become our puppets, your will bent to ours, your mind shattered."

He stepped closer to Volk, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper.

"Third, we love to play with your Grum-gar form. The ability to turn into an Ogre… it\'s fascinating, really. We\'ve dissected many of your kind to learn how it works. We\'ve experimented with fusing other creatures to your Grum-gar form, creating monstrous abominations that are neither orc nor beast.

We take pleasure in watching you transform, watching your bodies twist and contort in pain as the transformation takes hold."

Finally, Zenveil\'s eyes glittered with malevolence as he spoke the last of his examples.

"And fourth, we study your fear. We push you to the edge of despair, see how far we can drive you before you lose all hope. We force you to face your deepest, darkest fears, to confront the nightmares that haunt you. And when you are at your most vulnerable, when you are begging for the sweet release of death… we deny it to you. We keep you alive, so that you can suffer just a little bit more."

The warlock\'s words sent a wave of revulsion through Volk.

His mind reeled as he recalled the memories of the orc he had possessed—their fear of warlocks and dark elves had seemed exaggerated at the time, a paranoia born of superstition.

But now, standing before Zenveil, Volk understood that their fear had been all too real.

The dread he felt was unlike anything he had ever experienced, like it was a terror so deep and primal that it rooted him to the spot, rendering him helpless.

Suddenly, Volk was struck by a flashback.

The feeling was eerily familiar, bringing him back to a time in his previous life when he had been trapped in a wheelchair, paralyzed and powerless.

He remembered the helplessness, the frustration of being unable to move, to fight back against the world around him.

He recalled the days when he had been completely dependent on others, when he had been forced to watch life pass him by, unable to participate.

He remembered the stares, the pity in the eyes of those who looked down on him, and the burning resentment that had simmered within him.

He remembered four specific instances that had scarred him deeply.

The first was the time when he had been stranded in his wheelchair in the middle of a busy street, unable to cross because the sidewalk was too high for him to navigate.

Cars had zoomed past him, honking their horns, but no one had stopped to help.

He had felt utterly helpless, a prisoner in his own body.

The second memory was of a hospital stay, when he had been confined to a bed for weeks, unable to move without assistance.

The doctors and nurses had treated him like a child, speaking to him in condescending tones, as if his physical disability had somehow diminished his intellect.

He had seethed with anger, but there had been nothing he could do.

The third memory was of a family gathering, where he had been left alone in a corner while everyone else enjoyed themselves.

No one had bothered to include him in the festivities, and he had felt invisible, like a ghost haunting a world that no longer had a place for him.

The fourth and final memory was of a particularly humiliating experience, when he had been forced to ask for help with something as simple as opening a door.

The person he had asked had looked at him with pity, as if he were a burden, and had reluctantly assisted him.

The shame and frustration had eaten away at him, leaving a deep scar on his soul.

No, Volk thought fiercely.

I won\'t be helpless again. I won\'t be trapped like this!

With every ounce of strength he could muster, Volk fought against the paralysis that gripped him.

His muscles bulged and trembled as he tried to move, and not long, he finally let out a guttural scream, pushing himself to break free.

"Haaaaaaaarrrggghhhh!!!"

Warlock Zenveil\'s eyes widened in surprise, and he clapped his hands in mock applause.

"Impressive! Truly impressive!" he exclaimed, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You, the most hazardous Orc I have ever seen, are quite peculiar. You can lead, you can disappear when attacked, and now you\'re trying to overcome the primal fear that all warlocks have instilled in your race? Remarkable!"

The warlock\'s tone shifted, becoming more menacing. His eyes gleamed with a sadistic curiosity as he took a step closer to Volk.

"How about I make you a part of my experiment?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Volk continued to struggle, his teeth gritted in determination. But the warlock\'s words sent a chill down his spine, and he couldn\'t help but listen as Zenveil began to speak of the experiments he had yet to complete.

"You see," Zenveil said, his voice filled with dark amusement, "there are so many things I\'ve yet to try. So many… possibilities. For example, I could take your hazardous form and see what happens when I expose it to pure, concentrated darkness. What would become of you then, I wonder? Would you become a creature of the night, or would you simply cease to exist?"

He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing.

"Or perhaps I could fuse your Grum-gar form with another creature, something more… volatile. A reptile, perhaps? Imagine the power you would wield, the destruction you could cause. Of course, the process would be excruciatingly painful, but that\'s all part of the fun, isn\'t it?"

Zenveil\'s eyes glinted with malevolence as he considered his options.

"I could also experiment with your mind, delve deep into your thoughts and memories, twist them until you no longer recognize yourself. I could make you believe that you are something else entirely—a beast, a monster, a mindless slave.

"Or I could strip away your will, turn you into nothing more than a puppet, dancing on my strings and would do anything I tell it to do. But that would be too boring, I\'ll do that once I\'m done with experiments of everyone around you! Hahaha"

After that, Zenveil was not done. But someone on his face appeared. "Eat this!"