Chapter 77 – Plague King of Hood
The buzzing sound was loud, so impossibly loud it felt like it could shatter the skull of anyone who stayed long enough to hear it.
Yet if anyone ever managed to set foot in that place, the buzzing of the small, weathered crimson-black flies that reeked of death, were made of death, and fed on death, would be the least of their concerns.
The place had no visible limit in the concept of space. It seemed to expand infinitely, riddled with collapsed buildings adorned with blood and fragments of flesh and organs. The ground was carpeted with half-eaten humans, maggots working through them, rotten expressions of pure terror frozen on their faces.
The scent was soaked in piss and shit and blood and sweat. And most importantly of all…in anguish, in unending despair that clung to the air like the clutch of death over every living thing.
