Loki took control as usual, creating the simulated battlefield with a wave of his hand.
The god's eyes sparkled with mischief from the VIP platform, fingers weaving intricate patterns in the air.
Illusions bloomed outward, a vast expanse of shifting terrains: dense forests where leaves rustled with hidden dangers, jagged canyons echoing with phantom winds, urban ruins crumbling under simulated decay.
The air filled with the scents of pine, dust, and rust, the illusions so vivid that participants felt the crunch of gravel underfoot, the chill of fog on their skin.
The battlefield expanded, a galaxy of deception ready to test the survivors' mettle.
The battlefield this time was different from the last, vast, layered, and deliberately cruel in its design.
Loki had stretched the illusion across several simulated galaxies, a sprawling cosmic maze of nebulae, asteroid fields, derelict space stations, and ruined planetary surfaces.
