The world had gone gray.
What was once a fertile valley, carpeted with emerald fields and old oak groves, was now nothing more than scorched earth and drifting smoke. The ground cracked under the weight of so many boots; rivers ran dark with soot.
And then, without warning, the air began to twist.
It started as a low hum.
A vibration that crawled beneath the skin and made every soldier on both sides stop mid-step.
From the Central lines, hundreds of mages raised their staves toward the sky, their collective chants forming an echoing, spiraling chorus. Runes pulsed across the air like living veins.
Within seconds, the horizon vanished behind a moving wall of earth and dust — the soil itself rising, pulled into the air by a surge of mana. The green valley became a storm of black and brown, clouds of dirt swirling like a living thing.
"Commander! Visibility dropping—!"
