Bab 45: Warfront [part 4]

The battlefield was a landscape of horror— the very air, a miasma of dread that oozed into Northern's lungs with every fetid breath he took.

Ghostly lights flickered at the edge of his vision, casting an eerie pall over the already nightmarish scene.

They swirled through the roiling smoke rising from ravaged earth and burning flesh.

The acidic scent flooded his nostrils along with the iron tang of blood that was so thick he could taste it on his tongue.

It mingled with the rancid odor of spilled entrails from disemboweled corpses.

Deafening screams echoed all around—the wails of dying critters, the bloodcurdling roars of monsters, the ceaseless sounds of claws on bone.

The ground trembled under the weight of the combatants' falls, thousands taloned feet churning the soil until it turned into sinking mud.