They watched the war eat itself alive in silence, letting the scale of it settle into their bones before anyone tried to make sense of it.
The details sharpened the longer they stared.
The Elvardian Alliance had entrenched across a ridgeline, dwarven engineers having dug in with the brutal efficiency their race was known for, and from behind those earthworks the cannons roared.
Quinlan recognized them instantly. The same siege weapons that had been aimed at Whisperfield's walls hours ago had been hauled here and repositioned, their massive barrels now pointed south across open ground, and the devastation they caused was staggering.
Each volley tore through packed infantry like a fist through parchment, cratering the earth, scattering soldiers in every direction. Machines built to crack rune-reinforced barriers and shatter giant walls were firing into flesh and armor instead, and the results were exactly as ugly as that math suggested.
