The sky was a dim yellow.
The atmosphere outside the mountain foothills was somewhat oppressive.
The ogre hunters formed a loose battle formation.
No, rather than a battle formation, it's more like a cluster gathering around the two-headed ogre in a chaotic rush. There's no concealed magic loop linking each other underfoot, nor is there a heartening magic aura wafting through the air—there are only their hearts beating forcefully in their chests, pumping out wave after wave of hot plasma.
A few hundred meters away from the camp, this loose 'battle formation' began to slowly speed up.
Not far away, the dust from the explosion in the ogre camp had dissipated in the breeze, revealing a broken axle gate and the camp that was still peaceful and busy. Just compared to before, the 'ogres' working around the tents were now like marionettes, with every move becoming stiff and disorderly, viewed from afar, resembling a frame-dropped scene.
