High above the peaceful yet eerily deserted, because of the Great Corpse Carnival, of the Lower Grave Strata, the Upper Ancient Battlefield, which used to be cold and still told a very different story.
The land itself seemed to have come alive with tension.
Cracked earth stretched endlessly beneath a dim, blood-tinged sky, broken weapons, half-buried skeletons, and shattered war banners littered the ground like echoes of an age that refused to die.
Yet the stillness was gone, replaced by movement, intent, and the sounds of fierce battles, as if the past were going to repeat itself in some morbid way.
The participants who were still entering the 'Hunter's Hunt' from the Abyss of Wandering Souls, flickered across the battlefield like restless ghosts.
Some moved alone, cautious and silent, hiding their presence as they scanned their surroundings, while others had already gathered in small groups, forming fragile alliances that could break at any moment.
