Allies Collapsing

The southern plains stretched endlessly, an ocean of men locked in embrace of death.

Two million soldiers had converged here one million for allied kingdoms and one million for the enemy.

It was a battlefield unlike any other: vast, chaotic, and devastating in its scale.

Clouds of dust and smoke hung in the air like a heavy shroud, darkening the midday sun.

From afar, the sheer magnitude of the fighting was staggering.

Thousands of banners gold, black, crimson, and blue fluttered wildly, lost amidst the haze.

Lines of soldiers in tight formation moved like waves crashing into one another, the clatter of shields and the clash of steel drowning out every other sound.

Arrows rained down in black storms, their descent indiscriminate and deadly.

Pikes bristled like thorns as soldiers surged forward, while cavalry thundered across the open flanks, carving bloody paths through both man and beast.