Hours later, as the fleet soared above the vast continent, a chill wind cut through the air. Lugh stepped forward, pointing beyond the horizon. "There."
The battlefield revealed itself.
Below, the Great Plains of Runburm were drowned in chaos. An endless tide of hollows surged like a black ocean, their twisted forms clawing and shrieking as they crashed against the radiant walls of Atlas Sky-City. The ground was littered with shattered stone, burning wreckage, and rivers of corrupted flesh. Each hollow carried Azathoth's taint, their roars blending into a monstrous chorus that blotted out the natural sound of the world.
Above that nightmare storm floated DIVA, a citadel suspended in the sky by massive crystal pillars glowing with holy radiance. Its runes flared desperately as cannons fired streaks of light into the swarming horde, yet the sheer number of enemies was beyond reckoning.
