Amidst the blurred lines of the horizon that spanned the outskirts of the southern frontiers. Looming monsters marched, their size towering over the desolate wasteland.
The borders that divided the New World took the form of pale white and pitch-black. Lands divided, one enveloped in a perpetual storm and the other embraced by the warmth of the skies.
Above these marching monsters was a white fog, shrouding the silhouette of a draconic abomination whose size rivalled a mountain.
To the eyes of anyone but Oberon, the monstrous army was no different than catastrophes stacked upon one another.
"Doing this beyond the frozen wastelands of the Arctic feels a lot better than I expected." Damien stood over the head of his first monster, Eclipse.
His sable-tinted eyes observed the storms enveloping his monster army, seemingly unfazed by the sight. There were worse things he had seen than this storm.
