Chaos swallowed the battlefield.
The moment the Troll King hurled itself into the sky during its feral rage, every hunter had already known what was coming. The memory of the Fearful Roar still lingered inside their bones. Even those who resisted the full paralysis felt the cold residue of that terror gripping their instincts. It was the primal understanding of prey staring at a falling predator.
Now that the predator was descending.
Hunters scattered across the ruined street in every direction as the air filled with the sound of panicked shouts and grinding stone. Boots splashed wildly through rainwater and blackened blood as fighters scrambled for any patch of ground that might carry them out of the impact zone. Some sprinted with desperate clarity while others froze completely, minds unable to catch up with what their eyes were seeing.
