Chapter 170: What do we do, master?

The horde screamed in response, rallying around him with renewed fury."LOK'TAR OGAAAAAAAR!" they shouted, raising their weapons to the sky, their voices rising to a fever pitch.

They surged forward with Volk at the lead, a massive, unstoppable force crashing down upon the undead creature.

Volk reached the beast's massive leg, gripping the decayed, rotting flesh with his bare hands.

His muscles bulged as he strained, digging his fingers into the creature's leg before heaving with all his might.

RIIIIIP!

A chunk of the undead's flesh tore away, falling to the ground with a wet, squelching sound. Sёarᴄh the ηovelFire.ηet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

He tossed it aside with a snarl, relishing the sight of the creature flinching under his assault.

"GRAAAAAAAAH!"

Volk bellowed, swinging his massive fists up and pounding into the beast's torso. Each strike landed with the force of a landslide, the sound reverberating across the battlefield.

He struck again and again, relentless, his fists coated in blackened gore, as chunks of rotted muscle and bone splintered under his assault.

The zombie staggered, raising its arms in an attempt to defend itself, but Volk only roared louder, his fury mounting with each passing second.

An orc beside him, wielding an enormous blade, swung at the creature's shin with a fierce scream, carving deep into the decayed muscle.

Beside him, an ogre hurled a stone the size of a boulder at the beast's chest, smashing into it with a resounding BOOM!

The zombie stumbled, its body barely holding itself together, as piece by piece, it was torn apart by Volk and his horde.

But the creature was resilient, mindlessly driven to fight to its last, even as its body crumbled.

With a guttural groan, it opened its mouth wide, unleashing another deadly beam that swept across the battlefield, searing through the ranks.

Orcs and ogres dove to evade it, but some were caught, their screams mingling with the roar of battle as they fell to ashes.

Yet Volk didn't flinch.

He lunged at the creature, grabbing hold of its massive arm. With a feral snarl, he heaved it back, wrenching it nearly out of its socket.

The zombie staggered back, and in that instant, Volk's horde swarmed it, hacking and tearing, desperate to bring it down. But still, the creature fought on, refusing to fall.

As Volk roared again, he could feel something awaken within him—it was getting stronger.

He felt it course through him as he pressed on, blood pounding in his ears as he delivered strike after brutal strike.

As he felt his horde rally around him, their war cries blending with his, Volk knew that in this moment, they were one relentless force, united by blood and battle.

Suddenly, the stomach of the undead creature began to shift, the flesh peeling back in two sickening, slimy openings that oozed with decay.

The disgusting sight made some of the warriors falter for a moment, the gruesome display shocking even the most hardened fighters.

From within, two figures emerged—Bong Me-Eon and the middle-aged woman, their silhouettes framed against the dark interior of the undead's body.

As soon as they broke free, they raised their hands and unleashed dark spells, waves of necromantic magic crashing into Volk's face.

Stunned, Volk grunted in surprise, momentarily blinded by the swirling, dark energy.

It wasn't enough to truly harm him, but it was a powerful distraction.

Snarling, he shielded his eyes as the zombie's severed arm reared back.

With a thunderous CRACK, it smacked into him, sending him crashing across the battlefield.

The ground shuddered under the force of his landing, dirt and rock erupting in a cloud around him.

Volk stood slowly, the fury in his eyes like a blazing inferno.

He gritted his teeth, growling low and deep, his muscles tense as he prepared to strike again. But just as he gathered his strength, his thoughts shifted to strategy.

He knew he couldn't win this with sheer brute force alone, not with the necromantic magic constantly disrupting him.

He needed to outsmart this foe, but before he could plot his next move, he heard a familiar voice—a voice filled with urgency.

From across the field, his horde called to him, desperate and devoted.

"WARCHIEF!"

Volk turned his head toward the orc who screamed and saw him pointing at the giant zombie.

Immediately, he looked back at the giant zombie and noticed that something was happening.

The zombie's mouth was open, oozing a strange red mist.

Volk sneered.

"SYSTEM USER!"

…

Inside the stomach of the giant zombie, Bong Me-Eon and her master, the middle-aged grandmaster necromancer, moved swiftly through the slimy, pulsing cavern of flesh.

Rotting tendrils and oozing veins lined the interior walls, their sinister green glow casting eerie shadows across their faces.

Both women raised their hands, chanting in perfect unison, calling upon ancient, forbidden spells as their voices echoed through the fleshy chamber.

"Necros Mortis," Bong Me-Eon intoned, her voice barely more than a rasp.

"Umbra Cadaveris," her master followed, her voice a deep, commanding tone that resonated with years of experience.

As their dark spells flowed forth, ethereal chains of shadow and death spiraled out from their hands.

Like spectral vines, the chains twisted through the zombie's decaying interior, seeking out any orcs and ogres daring to climb up the creature's legs.

The spell took hold, and suddenly, the climbers were seized by an unseen force.

The chains looped around their necks and limbs, pulling them back, their terrified grunts echoing outside the zombie's massive frame.

The magic drained them, slowing their movement as fear and exhaustion seeped into their bones.

Bong Me-Eon's breathing grew labored, her hands trembling as she pushed her magic to its limits.

Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her gaze shifted nervously to her master.

They had sent a wave of necromantic magic across the battlefield, but there was no telling how long they could keep this up, especially against a relentless foe like Volk's horde.

"These orcs... they're more resilient than we anticipated," Bong Me-Eon gasped, wiping her forehead. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath.

Her master, equally drained, managed a grim nod.

"Yes, I can sense their strength… it's unlike anything I've felt. Their spirits burn like flame—unafraid, relentless."

She paused, looking at the thickening strands of sinewy flesh around them as the zombie's internal walls began to close.

"But this… this isn't just resilience. There's something more fueling them. Something old. Something…"

She shook her head, her voice trailing off, and then gestured back at the closing wound with urgency.

"The flesh is sealing us in again," Bong Me-Eon said, her voice tinged with panic. She took a shaky step forward, her face twisted in desperation. "If we stay inside too long, we'll be cut off from helping to control this creature!"

They exchanged an anxious look, realizing the gravity of their situation.

The horde was coming in full force, and without their spells, the undead giant could very well fall beneath Volk's relentless onslaught.

"What do we do, Master?" Bong Me-Eon's voice wavered. "If we leave, the giant will collapse under the sheer weight of their attacks. But if we stay… it's only a matter of time before we're overrun, or worse, trapped completely."