The atmosphere of a sea of corpses and blood rolled through the valley, mixing flames and stench into a complete hell.
Five thousand barbarian knights lay dead in the mud and blood, with the remains of the giant magical beasts crushing the surrounding rocks, the charred sinews still smoking.
The red mist had not fully dissipated, thick like stirred old blood, glowing a sinister dark red in the light.
Yet the knights of the Red Tide Territory steadily traversed through it, their faces shielded by transparent masks framed with silver.
The edges of the masks were inlaid with patterns of pale blue sheen, distilled from Frost Leaf Vine, slowly releasing a film of mist with each knight's breath, isolating all mental disturbances from outside.
The eyes behind the mask were cold and focused, showing not a trace of being swayed by the red mist, their movements crisp.
