The training field had long abandoned its name—this was no place for training anymore. It was a slaughterhouse carved into the earth.
The sky above was smothered in black clouds, thick and low, casting a grim shadow over the land. The air was heavy with the stench of blood, so dense it clung to the back of the throat, sickly sweet and metallic. Every breath was a struggle against nausea.
The ground, once firm and dry, was now soaked—dark red mud formed where blood mixed with dirt. Severed limbs lay scattered like fallen leaves, twitching with the last remnants of ether. Crushed helmets. Shattered blades. Burnt flags.
Entrails looped around broken spears, and bones jutted out from charred corpses like twisted white roots.
