The wind howled through the valley, a haunting melody that danced over broken stones and parched grass.
At the entrance of the ancient tomb, three groups stood frozen in place,each warrior poised for battle, weapons raised, fingers itching on triggers.
One spark could ignite chaos, drowning the valley in flames and blood.
Leading his convoy was Arthur, clad in the Shadow Lord Regalia that hummed softly beneath his armor.
His visor reflected the figures of Ravik and the newcomer who looks like an arrogant young master from some big family.
His men behind him elite team with an unwavering focus, rifles aimed with expressions as hard as granite.
Across from them was Ravik ,leader of the Crimson Jackals.
With a wolfish grin stretching across his face and a crimson scarf fluttering in the breeze, he radiated an electric thrill for violence.
His band of mercenaries shifted restlessly around him, eager for bloodshed.
