This ain't a regular scrap, folks. Golgaroth might look like a fortress, but Death ain't one to be reckoned with by muscle alone. Even with all that raw power and tankiness, Golgaroth's got a weakness—he's tethered to life. And Death, my man, embodies the end of all things. When the ultimate force meets a formidable, yet finite creature, it's a no-brainer who's got the upper hand. --- In the depths of the crumbled castle, a faded light flickered against the monumental frame of Golgaroth. The ancient beast, all might and muscle, roared triumphantly through the halls, convinced he’d bested every soul that dared challenge him. But his celebration rang hollow as the air grew still and heavy; the shadows stretched, congealing into a dark figure—Death itself. With a presence that silenced even the bravest of warriors, Death stepped forward, shrouded in inevitability. Golgaroth's glory faltered; his monstrous heart raced against the tide of eternity. The ancient crocodilian held his ground, but it was too late. With a single ghostly touch, Golgaroth crumbled, the once mighty armored creature turned to ash, memories swirling around him like fleeting whispers. Death knelt beside the remnants of what once was, his voice a solemn echo in the void, “Look at what you’ve built, Golgaroth. You were the watchman of this realm, but even the strongest fortress can't stand against the end that finds us all.” As the dusk fell, a surreal calm settled. “You've lived fiercely, old friend,” Death continued, his tone laced with an unexpected gentleness. “Your power, your might—you ruled these lands like a true titan. You protected and fought for what you believed in. But remember, life is not just about brute strength or armored walls.” The winds swirled with memories—those of roaring battles, the joy and fear of life, the laughter shared under star-lit skies. In his final moments, Golgaroth saw it all, and for a brief instant, he understood. “Your legacy shall echo through the ages. Your story isn’t done. Every life you touched, every battle fought; it all mattered. You might have fallen today, but know this: I’ll not erase you. You’ll remain in the tales of those who live on.” With that, Death rose, leaving Golgaroth’s essence swirling in the air, transforming into a timeless tale—a reminder that even the strongest may fall, but therein lies the beauty of what was lived. And as the shadows receded, one truth remained: Death is inevitable, but so are the lives we touch along the way.