Once a land brimming with life, now it was a graveyard of thousands.
Soldiers and innocents alike lay strewn across the torn land; their corpses painted the land with a horror that could never be mistaken for anything but war's true face. The stench of death hung heavy in the air, iron and rot mingling until every breath was a punishment.
But it was always far better to smell death than feel death.
Pools of blood puddled, unnaturally refusing to seep into the earth.
Each one glistened like a dark mirror beneath the radiance of the Obelisk of Life.
From the armor worn by the corpses, two armies from opposing superpowers clashed.
Now, only one army remained standing, exhausted, in pain, but very much alive.
Their black armor gleamed dully beneath streaks of gore, white tabards clung in tatters, and the golden trims on them dulled by crimson stains. Among them stood flag bearers, raising high the banners of the superpower they represent, the banners of conquest.
