A thick mist of blood swirled in the morning light.
The stench of blood permeated the entire battlefield, and since the war began, this odor had never dissipated.
A wind, blowing from some unknown direction, gently stirred the blood mist. Under the light of the early morning sun, the battlefield appeared even more brutal and bloody.
Iron Thorn Plain.
Before the rat plague broke out, this place was not well-known; it was a name casually given by passing travelers.
It is called this because some branches were often entwined with vines known as iron thorns on this plain. From a distance, under the sunlight, the vines gleam like iron, hence the name.
As for how the name of this battlefield will change after this battle, no one knows. But undoubtedly, it will be closely tied to this bloody combat.
On the battlefield, the sharp whistles of blades cutting through the wind intermingle with the muffled sounds of axes chopping.
