Like the eternal battlefield of gods and demons in mythology, the cannon fire never ceased, shells hitting the ground and spraying countless shards, cutting through everything in their path. The trenches were filled with heaps of reeking corpses, and the soldiers, as if twisted by some malevolent force, gradually lost their human forms, roaring and brandishing bayonets like soulless zombies.
Gusts of wind swept in, lifting up clouds of yellow sand. Behind the sand, a suffocating low hum resonated over the battlefield. Swarms of black flies soared like vultures, crawling into the corpses and leaving behind countless wriggling white maggots.
From above, on the scorched earth, the soldiers looked like innumerable ants, waving their deformed limbs, launching a charge at that sole enemy, only to be shattered on the way by the black blade, much like meat on a production line, ground into delicate mince by a meat grinder.
