Second World War [04]

Then—well, things were back to normal.

There was silence on the battlefield as the once-blinking light dimmed. It was unnatural, but it was more than just silence.

The entire world had fallen unconscious.

A small number of warriors, no, all of them, lay still on the ground. Dareth, Jaxyn, and all the other fighters had fallen to the ground, even the strongest of them.

But there were still two.

Declan and Malgrath.

In the aftermath, they were the only ones standing, their senses overwhelmed, their bodies tense.

High above, Malgrath's mind was racing.

"What… just happened?"

Then—he saw it.

A figure.

A gigantic creature, looming like a god in front of him.

Each of its six massive, blood-stained wings pulsed with a horrifying blend of red and black energy. Like a cursed storm raging inside its very being, the energy flowed through it rather than just surrounding it.

It had a long, black sword in its hands.