The raging orc warrior roared, swinging his battleaxe in a wide arc toward the lone enemy before him. Around him, the once-frenzied battlefield where countless orcs had clashed in savage slaughter was now strewn with corpses, the ground soaked red with blood.0

The ancestral spirits, too, had fallen in droves during their own mutual carnage. Only a few remained, scattered across the wasteland like dying embers of a great fire. The war had reached its endgame. When the last foe within sight was slain, the orc warriors would awaken from their frenzy, their bloodlust ebbing away to make room for triumph.0

Yet before victory could come, the orc warrior's descending axe, meant to split his foe in two, met nothing but air. The blade passed clean through the figure before him, as if through a mirage, and struck the ground with a thunderous crash, shattering a shield clutched by a fallen corpse.0

At the same instant, the enemy's sword pierced his chest—but the orc felt no pain. Just as his axe had cleaved through a seeming illusion, so...0