The Outlands trembled under the weight of war.
Roars, war cries, explosions, and beast soul echoes formed an orchestra of chaos that stretched across miles. The land was scarred in every direction—craters smoked, ancient trees had fallen, and rivers now ran red.
Though the initial clash had shaken both sides, now the battle had spread—fracturing into countless pockets of ferocious conflict.
And in those countless battlegrounds, heroes were rising.
--
Clad in snow-pale armor that glimmered with soul-infused frost, General Isolde of the Great Lumen stood atop a raised ridge, directing her battalion with an unwavering voice.
"Glacier Wedge Formation! Maintain pressure on their left flank!"
Beside her, her Icewind Basilisk beast soul hissed, projecting waves of cold from its mouth that froze not only the flesh of enemies but the very soul essence that fueled them.
A massive werewolf lunged forward, three meters tall and armed with twin crescent axes glowing with bloodlight.
