At the Storm army's camp, the Storm King lay in his command tent. The army physician had just finished changing his dressings.
His wounds were still seeping blood, but they were much better than before.
The Storm King gritted his teeth and sat up. He told his deputy, "Pass the order: tighten security and guard against a Carian night raid. Also, have the scouts keep a close eye on the western front. If things over there..."
Before he finished, a sickly sweet smell of blood suddenly filled the tent.
"What's that smell?" The Storm King frowned.
The next second, crimson blood mist poured through every gap in the tent.
"What is this?" The Storm King's pupils abruptly contracted.
Before he could react, the blood mist plunged into the wounds on his chest, shoulders, and thighs.
Agonizing pain spread from his wounds throughout his body.
But after the pain came a burning sensation of healing.
His wounds closed, scabbed over, and shed their scabs at a visible speed, revealing new skin. Broken bones knitted back together, and burned flesh returned to its original state.
Even the arrow poison was forcibly "sucked" out by the blood mist, falling to the ground as a few drops of black blood.
The blood mist even expressed disgust in a very human fashion.
The Storm King stood and moved his arms. He had recovered completely, and was in even better condition than before his injuries.
But when he looked down, he saw that blood had pooled across the tent floor. It had flowed from his wounds as they healed, a terrifying quantity that covered almost half the tent.
Outside, sounds of unrest arose.
"Blood... so much blood..."
"...No, I can't..."
"Kill... kill..."
The Storm King rushed out of the tent, and the sight before him made