The human circle a fragile constellation of flesh and fading hope collapsed like a house of cards under the gust of a divine breath.
The Vhulks of R'daz advanced, nightmare creatures with undulating silhouettes, their translucent bodies pulsing with a sickly bluish light. Each of their movements traced a trail of ethereal acid through the foul air of the arena. Death itself seemed to ripple in their wake, patient and predatory.
One by one, the gladiators faded into oblivion.
A burst of blinding light like a dying star giving its final breath. A strangled scream — quickly turning into a wet gurgle. The acrid stench of melting flesh mingled with the metallic tang of blood and the sulfurous reek of the Vhulks.
On the blackened sand, now speckled with smoking footprints and unidentifiable organic remnants, only three figures remained three flickering flames in the storm:
