The scent of the morning dew, stark against the bloody battlefield - bodies torn asunder, scarlet murals decorating the streets. The clashing of steel and the sight of eyes staring sightlessly into the abyss. The laborious breathing of the surviving myriads, and the cold steel catching the illumination from the morning dawn. The thunderous echoes that constantly interrupt every moment, the ear-splitting bestial-like roars, and the rumbling of the ground beneath it all.
With mouth agape, eyes wide open, contorted eyebrows, and dilated pupils, the myriad scholar stared in agony as the gate before him started to open. He was confused; however, it soon turned into horror as a lone myriad appeared in the right gate tower where the lever was located.
He held his breath, and many others whose eyes had wandered around stared helplessly. With downward smiles, they despaired as they saw one of their own, with bits of flesh ripped off, move toward the window.
