The vast battlefield stretched ominously between the two colossal armies, its barren expanse scarred by countless battles over centuries.
Deep grooves from wagon wheels and siege weapons marked the dusty plains, each one a grim reminder of past conflicts. The air itself seemed heavy, thickened by tension, hatred, and centuries-old grievances.
At the rear of the Lionkin forces, a lavish war chariot, carved from obsidian and adorned with crimson runes, stood imposingly atop a small hill.
Upon it sat the anomaly, his figure tall, lean, yet radiating overwhelming authority. His pale, almost luminescent skin contrasted starkly with the chariot's dark aesthetic, his cold eyes calmly sweeping across the massive Tigerkin army arrayed opposite him.
Behind him stood ten warriors, similar in appearance, each possessing an intimidating aura that matched his own.
