The night bled into morning without warning.
The battlefield was unrecognizable — the air was thick with smoke, and what used to be a sprawling plain was now a warped wasteland of glass and melted metal.
Cain stood at the center, chest heaving, steam rising from his skin. The exhaustion in his muscles burned deeper than pain. Every nerve screamed, every instinct told him to stop. But he couldn't.
Something stirred in the distance.
The ground trembled in rhythmic pulses, faint at first, then steady — like the beating of a heart beneath the earth. Cain tensed, eyes narrowing. He raised {Eidwyrm}, its crimson edge glowing faintly despite the layers of ash that had dulled the world's color.
Then came the voice — low, guttural, and distorted.
"You never know when to die, do you?"
Cain's eyes twitched. The shape that emerged from the dark was massive — charred armor fused into skin, molten cracks glowing like veins of lava. A once-human figure, now twisted beyond recognition.
