After that world-shaking battle, the very fabric of the world seemed to have been torn asunder by an invisible, colossal force, leaving behind a scene of utter apocalypse. The sky was no longer its usual azure but a stretch of dim gray. Dark clouds gathered and lightning flashed, as if the heavens themselves were roaring in anger. The peals of thunder were deafening, and bolts of lightning, like sharp swords, slashed across the firmament, adding a savage cast to the devastated landscape.
The land below was a ghastly sight. Fissures spread out like a spider's web, some plunging into bottomless depths, others gaping as wide as rivers. The ground rumbled intermittently, as if the very heart of the world were sighing. Mountains and rivers, too, seemed to have lost their vitality in the cataclysm. The peaks had become bleak and desolate, the rivers had run dry, and a deathly stillness hung over everything.
