“No!! Fight! Don’t lose hope!” I say, hacking into the army with my katana, killing many with each slash. “We are Psalians, the unbeatables! Kill those monsters! Destroy them! Send that king of worms back to his rotten land!” I shout above the din of the battle, encouraging my soldiers. The Samurai slice into the Uldar’s army, while the Mages roast and freeze their soldiers. Each of my slash makes a dent in his army, but then, Uldar himself comes onto the battlefield. The size of a giant, he dwarfs us as if we’re mere pups. We start to lose hope, for he kills many of us with each blow, while we aren’t able to even scratch him. We fall back, loading the cannon specially designed for that monster. His army is almost finished, but he himself is enough to take us on. We keep fighting, even though we have little hope of killing him. When the machine is charged and ready to fire, the few hundred soldiers of my army which were left regroup quickly. We fire the cannon, but to our horror, it only pushes him back, rather than killing him. Having lost all hope, we decide to die fighting. We unleash everything we have got on him, but it has no effect. We have no other trick up our sleeve. So, in my last desperate attempt to kill him, I launch myself at his face, waiting for death as his hand comes to crush the air out of me.

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  “What the heck!” I say, waking up from the extremely realistic nightmare, sweating profusely.

  Just a metaphor. He is the orc king.