With those words, Rolk raised up his enormous sword above his head to cleave down on the human's skull whilst the other orcs began to pounce in to finish off whatever was left. Gregory closed his eyes and muttered a final thought as he held the ring tightly.

“I'm sorry, Algra.”

With that, he closed his eyes, slipped the silver band on his ring finger and waited for the flames to consume him and his enemies.

Heat poured through his body, though it did not burn. The aches in his muscles from months of fighting were consumed by that warmth, and his body was soothed into a state of near-sleep. The last of the thoughts that trailed through his mind assumed that it was simply his end.

Whatever the ring had done, it had done it so fast that his nerves hadn't been able to bring the pain to his brain and his spirit was now floating into the great beyond.

At least that's what he thought he was doing, until he found that he could open his eyes.

Rolk was still charging toward him, so close that he could see the little green veins in the whites of the orc's eyes. For a moment it seemed as if he was living in a fixed instant. His Last moment of life formed around him. It wasn't until he realised the tip of Rolk's sword was moving that he actually realised it wasn't a still image. The orcs were there, but moving much too slowly. As if time itself had stalled around him.

In his dream-like state, he thought how odd the creatures looked up close. How strange it was that he'd thought those withered and wretched things to be dangerous. His attention eventually fell upon the wand that Rolk held in his other hand, and he frowned at the orb of blue

Light.

No. That was wrong.

Gregory Lifted his hand in a minor gesture toward the foul thing that now seemed to offend the very essence of his being. Deep within its core, it began to shatter. The power within was becoming unstable.

Wanting it gone as soon as possible, he willed the world to speed up again and, much to his surprise, the world followed orders.

The explosion sent Rolk hurtling backwards from the impact, and his shiny ebon armour was bent out of shape against his left flank. The arm that had held the wand was rendered immediately useless, and it dropped to his side as he fell back into the grass. In that moment, the last of that pale blue Light dissipated into nothing and the three undead orcs fell to the ground and moved no more.

There was one behind him, about to bring a heavy club riddled with spikes down on his left shoulder. It was the only orc that hadn't been caught up in the blast, because Gregory had been between it and the wand, and Gregory hadn't moved. Rather than turning around to face his attacker, he instead stepped backward so that the club fell just over his shoulder instead. Then, as if he was swatting away an annoying insect, Gregory reached up with the hand that wore the ring and grasped the club, spikes and all. The screeching sound of metal being crushed against metal rang out through the clearing. He crushed the mace into a warped shape before flinging it away and grasping the arm of the orc that held it. Soon enough, the orc was also flung away across almost the entire Length of the clearing until it splatted against the trunk of a tree Like a bug hitting a car window.

By that time, its friends had managed to find their feet again and resumed their charge. They seemed unable to comprehend the idea of a mere human with the degree of power that Gregory had just displayed. It simply wasn't possible. So, he engaged them once again, and they found their assumptions fatally flawed.

To them, it seemed as if he were a blur shifting from one to the next and tearing his bare hands through their chests. The armour that they had adorned themselves with didn't seem to hinder the journey of his fists through their ribcages, and he only came to a halt at the last.

The archer. By that time, the orc had seen enough to try to flee from whatever magic the human wielded. Catching it by clamping his hand on its shoulder; he dug his fingers into its collar bone with a sickening crunch that made the orc squeal in agony. Then he meticulously settled his other hand beneath its chin and very slowly pulled its head, along with a good portion of its spine, from its shoulders.

Gregory stopped then, and Looked down at the head of the creature now held in his grip. Why had he done that? It was... inefficient. For some reason, some distant part of him found it to be entirely necessary.

“Die! Why won't you just die!?" Rolk roared in a mix of pain, frustration and madness.

With one arm still limp at his side, he raised his sword with the other and charged toward Gregory just as he had done time and time again.