At the same time, in the forest… or at least where a forest once was, no sound of an army remained, nor the roar of energies.
No cries of warriors who, just minutes ago, had filled the forest with their presence.
Only destruction remained. The vast ground of the forest, like shattered glass, was cracked for kilometers, and deep chasms had swallowed the soil. Mountains that had stood for centuries were now nothing but collapsed piles of rock and ash, and a thick mist of dust still floated in the air, as if nature itself had not yet been able to accept what had happened.
Ash slowly fell from the sky, like snow.
Snow of death.
And at the center of all that hell, the cursed tree still stood.
Its massive roots pulsed quietly in the ground, and its dark branches had risen into the split sky.
But what drew the most attention was the fruit.
