Dark clouds stretched endlessly across the sky, swallowing the horizon in every direction.
They were not natural storm clouds. They were Zerathul himself, his presence blanketing the world in a vast suffocating veil.
The atmosphere changed for the worse under his influence. It became heavy with warped energy that pressed into the lungs and flesh. Breathing became laborious for every living creature beneath that sky, as if the world were being slowly strangled around them.
Erend felt it immediately.
This wasn't just pressure. This was domination.
"We can't wait," he realized grimly. "If this continues, the world won't survive long enough for a proper fight."
Yet there was one blessing. Their bodies were at their peak already. The Dungeon World had restored them completely. Their wounds were healed, their exhaustion erased, and their minds sharpened.
