The battlefield was unrecognizable, a stark reminder that life had once thrived here. What used to be the territory of the Crimson Abyssal Lion, a scorched land marked by dominance and hierarchy, had been so thoroughly obliterated that even memory seemed to shy away from it.
Hundreds of kilometers lay in ruins, torn apart by such extreme violence that the very bones of the earth were exposed. Mountains had crumbled inward, their peaks flattened into jagged fields of shattered stone.
Forests hadn't just burned; they had been utterly unmade, reduced to drifting ash and glassy soil fused by unimaginable heat. Rivers boiled dry, their beds split apart by shockwaves, leaving behind vast scars that still glowed faintly with residual mana.
The air itself felt damaged.
