The war between the Acarnis Galaxy and the Divinora Galaxy continued with utmost intensity. At this moment, both sides fought and died proudly for their respective homes, without a single thought of retreat. Blood flowed like milk and honey across the void of the galactic expanse, staining the endless darkness with crimson. Corpses drifted freely through space, floating as though they had become a new and grotesque Astra constellation. Organs of every kind, brains, lungs, kidneys, eyes, were scattered without order, while severed body parts followed suit: limbs, heads, torsos, all tumbling silently through the vacuum.
The galaxy itself had become a painting of death, a mural of horror so overwhelming that it defied proper description. Everywhere one looked, destruction reigned as though it had replaced reality itself. It was as if Order had been erased entirely, leaving apocalypse to stand unchallenged as the new natural law.
