The ground scorched by Purgatory Incendiaries still radiated lingering heat. Vast gullies retained dark-red molten matter, while billowing smoke rose from the charred, searing earth. The choking smoke and dust carried all manner of nauseating stench—the remnants of Aberrants were disintegrating and rising into the air, the flesh of synthetic beasts gave off a foul odor after carbonizing, and mixed among it was the pungent smell of Magic Waste Energy reacting with the air.
Without full protective armor and the protection of a Breeze Shield, even breathing for a second on this battlefield consumed by flames would likely have felt like falling into an abyss.
Fendil Wilde led his soldiers swiftly across the battlefield beside a gully. The protective runes built into their armor blocked and filtered out the astonishing heat and poisonous gases in the air. Yet even so, whenever his gaze swept across the scorched marks left by living Fire Elements, Fendil still felt a wave of heat rise from the depths of his heart. He frowned and looked into the distance, where a strange purplish-black fog floated at the edge of the battlefield. Faint roars came from deep within that fog, and at its far end, near the hazy horizon, he could make out a black, ominous "mountain range."
If one looked carefully, one could even see countless fine structures slowly rising, falling, and swaying across the surface of that "mountain range." Its overall shape was also subtly shifting. A faint rocking and tremor constantly traveled through the earth—caused by the slight movements of that "mountain range."
"Sir," a soldier called from behind Fendil, "do you think... that thing has noticed us?"
"Impossible, right?" Before Fendil could answer, another soldier beside him spoke nervously. "It's so far away, and we're so small... in front of that thing,