Inside this den of madness, those with weapons used them, but mostly it was down to their fists, nails, teeth… no thoughts were placed in their defense, as the lucky ones were pushed from the top of the mountain, and as they fell they screamed not out of fear but hatred as they foamed at the mouth and chomped at the air, up till the moment they splattered into wet pieces at the ground miles below.
The sounds of millions of people tearing themselves apart were a hellish symphony that could drive anyone to madness.
As the world around him ended, the king could only watch in horror and mostly profound sadness, so much so that it was enough to break him out of the cycle of hatred, because he recognized his hands in all of this, and he knew that horror that this event would unlock in the future, he was watching the beginning of the end.