"This Sorolith is a noisy bastard!"
John's voice was barely a whisper, swallowed by the oppressive presence of Sorolith. As he navigated through the newly thinned purple fog, he met nothing but an eerie emptiness.
Once he reached the far edge of the thinned zone, he took a deep breath and began hurling clusters of cores in multiple directions. His goal was two-fold: to erode the remaining density of the purple fog and to flush out whatever special Wrathers might be lurking in the depths of the den.
The reaction was instantaneous. As the cores struck something inside, the ground itself seemed to heave. John watched, astonished, as a literal sea of Wrathers began to emerge from the deeper fog. But moving among them was a silhouette so massive it made the surrounding monsters look like insects, a gigantic was coming.
