The thick smoke of charred earth and shattered beastbone still lingered in the Den of Ferocious Beasts, a place once teeming with monstrous predators. Now, nothing remained but scorched land, broken terrain, and the bloodied remnants of an all-out war between the Celestials and the Elves. The ferocious beasts that gave the place its name had been reduced to ash hours ago, caught in the crossfire of unimaginable might. Only warriors—both divine and mortal—remained.
Crimson light shimmered along the scorched hills, refracted by the divine weapons of the Celestials. Clad in flowing, radiant armor, they stood like gods upon the battlefield—faces emotionless, eyes glowing with celestial conviction. The Hybrids, the ones of an incredibly low rank which the leader of their race commanded them to assist the Celestials as much as possible while he was kept at bay by the Nullcarvers, stood beside them, howling and snarling, their grotesque frames trembling with barely restrained fury.
