(Planet Ixtal, Common Soldier's POV)
The wind that moved across the scorched plains of Ixtal carried the stench of old blood and burnt metal, mingling with the acrid smoke that still rose from the ruins of what had once been the heart of the once thriving Cult civilization.
The soil beneath the soldiers' boots was a dark, cracked gray, one that refused to heal even after months of purification rites and mana cleansing.
"Disgusting place," one of the soldiers muttered, kicking at the dirt as if it personally offended him. "No matter how much holy water we dump here, it still reeks of corruption. Even the air feels wrong, like it's soaked in blasphemy."
A chorus of low agreement followed, their voices tired yet scornful.
"Filthy bastards," another spat, his armor glinting faintly beneath the pale light. "I swear, evil's in their blood. Whole generations born tainted. Even their corpses when we overturn the rubble look smug."
