The battlefield had already turned into something that could no longer be called a battlefield, it was more like a broken land that had been crushed and torn apart again and again.
The ground was filled with deep cracks that spread like spider webs in every direction, craters of different sizes littered the area as if meteors had rained down endlessly, and the air itself was thick with the smell of burnt flesh, scorched earth, and that strange metallic scent of green blood that kept dripping from the bodies of the fallen wolf-ant beasts, and even though most of the swarm had already been wiped out, the pressure in the air had not reduced at all.
Instead it had grown heavier, sharper, more suffocating, because now what stood before them were the five Elite beasts, each one towering like a nightmare given form, their green scales reflecting the chaotic light of fire and lightning that still lingered in the air.
