In the swirling stream of Nolan's augmented vision, the battlefield unfolded like a macabre symphony of chaos and desperation.
Every flicker, every motion, every rising health bar and plunging vitality line was a neon echo of carnage playing out in real time.
"Ding! -1"...
"Ding! -1"...
"Ding! -1"...
His body remained suspended above the villa's cliffs, but his mind was submerged deep in the data—locked onto the horrifying fight unfolding miles away.
Varros stood among his knights, the clanging of swords and the thundering rhythm of hooves lost to the eerie wet squelch of regenerating limbs.
"Men!" he shouted.
"Huhaaaa!!" they screamed back!
However, no matter what they do, the octopus-headed humanoid creatures, grotesque in every possible way, didn't just survive their wounds—they unraveled and reformed with an obscene grace.
Tentacles, cut clean in two, would twitch on the ground, only to slither back to their main body like worms returning to the soil.
