It was the beginning of the end of the world.
The beginning of terror and devastation.
When it began, it felt as if the very gates of Hell had been flung wide open, unleashing not just searing flames and thick clouds of acrid smoke, but also every unimaginable nightmare that humankind had ever dreaded. Shadows twisted and writhed in the chaos, whispering forgotten fears while the air grew thick with a palpable sense of dread. It was a cataclysm of terror, as if the darkest corners of the human psyche had been laid bare, flooding the world with every unspeakable horror that haunted our collective conscience.
From that moment on, humanity's days of peace vanished.
The dreadful cries of the dying spread across the continents like a symphony of horror—an orchestra conducted by the grim hand of fate itself. The wails of men, women, and children rose with the thunder of collapsing cities, the roar of breaking earth, the endless shrieks of winds that tore steel from stone.
