Only Morko and Kloz remained on the battlefield.
Morko's shadowy form hovered above the Living Flesh Plain. Gray mist churned beneath his feet, while his ghostly green flame eyes illuminated the entire world.
No evil ghosts remained at his side. They had either died or been transformed by him into skeletal ghost slaves, and more than half of those skeletal ghost slaves had already been swept away by Kloz's Gluttony Vortex.
Kloz's gigantic mass of flesh floated in midair. The Gluttony Vortex was still rotating slowly, but it no longer spun as quickly as before, because he had swallowed too much and had not yet had time to digest it.
His hundreds of giant mouths still opened and closed, but they no longer let out mad roars, because he was tired.
Gray mist and dark crimson intertwined, and heaven and earth trembled.
The bones upon the Bone Wasteland were overturned and buried again, while the flesh on the Living Flesh Plain was torn apart and healed once more.
The entire land was weeping, groaning, begging for this endless war to stop.
But it could no longer stop!
Morko and Kloz stared coldly at one another through the surging gray mist and sickly sweet air, through the scattered severed limbs and devastation covering the ground.
Morko's ghostly green flame eyes and Kloz's countless tiny scarlet eyes brimmed with all manner of gloom, flesh, death, hunger, decay, and devouring.
The gray mist was shredded at the edge of Kloz's Gluttony Vortex, then regathered by Morko's ghostly aura; the flesh was corroded into black charcoal by Morko's ghostly aura, then sucked back into Kloz's mouths by his appetite.
The two powers collided at the center of the battlefield. There was no sound—only destruction.
Morko did not move first.
He was waiting—for Kloz's Gluttony