Standing at nearly ten feet tall, a massive Black Minotaur glares forward with a fearsome intensity. His muscular frame is covered in battle-worn black leather armor, reinforced with dark steel plates that reflect faint, cold light. His obsidian-black fur, coarse and thick, glistens slightly under the dim glow of torches scattered around the stone-walled battlefield. His horns curve forward like jagged crescents, each adorned with silver bands etched with ancient runes. His snout flares slightly as he exhales, releasing a faint mist in the cool air. His eyes gleam a molten amber, filled with the savage determination of a seasoned warrior. Scars crisscross his arms and chest, hinting at countless battles fought and survived. Clutched tightly in his enormous hands is a colossal, double-bladed battle axe. The axe’s dark steel head is etched with intricate glyphs and coated in dried blood, while its long, dark wooden handle is wrapped in worn leather grips. The ground beneath him is cracked and scorched, scattered with the remnants of a fierce battle—broken shields, shattered weapons, and splatters of crimson staining the stone. Behind him, a distant fortress looms, its towers barely visible through a swirling, dark gray fog. The air is heavy with tension, and the distant sound of war drums echoes faintly, amplifying the dark and ominous atmosphere of the scene