The sand was stained with blood, the sky shrouded in smoke. The putrid smell of burning flesh and viscera permeated the air.
Xenovia and Kryssia moved like shadows on the brink of death, each strike a desperate effort, each breath a reminder that they were still alive—but for how long?
"Kryssia, stay back!" Xenovia screamed, swinging her sword, bathed in blue energy. The cut split three creatures in half, but five more were already emerging from the darkness.
Kryssia, covered in blood that she couldn't tell if it was hers or the aberrations', responded only with a snarl and a quick movement. Her blade pierced the throat of a grotesque monster, a cross between a wolf and an insect, which still tried to bite her arm even after being decapitated.
They were surrounded. Again.
Days? Weeks? They had already lost track of time. The only certainty was that the island seemed to be spewing endless monsters, as if it were a living organism that would not allow rest.
