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Chapter 45 Warfront [part 4]
The battlefield was a landscape of horror - the very air a miasma of dread that oozed into Northern's lungs with every fetid breath.
Ghostly lights flickered at the edges of his vision, casting an eerie pall over the already nightmarish scene.
They swirled through the roiling smoke rising from ravaged earth and burning flesh.
The acidic scent flooded his nostrils along with the iron tang of blood - so thick he could taste it coating his tongue.
It mingled with the rancid odor of spilled entrails and voided bowels from disemboweled corpses.
Deafening screams echoed all around - the wails of dying critters, the bloodcurdling roars of monsters, the ceaseless percussion of claws on bone.
The ground trembled under the fury of the combatants' falls, thousands taloned feet churning the soil to sucking mud.
It eagerly swallowed up the remnants of the freshly slain. Their spilled blood soaked the thirsty earth until it ran slick and sticky, glueing Northern's own boots as he struggled for balance on the treacherous terrain.
Cadavers and dismembered parts created a ghastly obstacle course, forcing Northern to pick his way with care lest he stumble into the waiting jaws of death.
Despite the cloying reek threatening to smother him, Northern focused past his revulsion, attuning his senses to exploit every advantage.
The eerie glow outlining his foes granted him a split second's notice to adjust the bite of his blade.
The ghastly chorus of screams guided his steps through the roiling chaos.
He filtered the battlefield's overwhelming sensory deluge for that life-saving edge.
At times the deathly luminance played tricks on his vision - corpses seemed to lurch and grasp out of the corner of his eye.
The pained wails built to a mind-shattering crescendo, sending his heart racing as combat narrowed his world down to each breath...each beat...each bloodied monster he cut down.
This nightmarish crucible burned hot enough to sear away weaker men's sanity.
But Northern found bitter strength in the forge-fire, letting the horror hone his resolve to an unbreakable edge.
The battle's atmosphere focused him to a razor point - senses keened for the next attack, muscles coiled to counter.
All that mattered now was enduring second by gory second.
A short distance from Northern, an enormous creature tentacles wound around a desperate lizard-like beast in an inescapable death grip.
Cords of mucus-coated muscle crushed its prey slowly, the sickening cracks of splintering bones cutting through its agonized bleats.
Bones pierced raggedly through matted skin already plastered with coagulating blood.
The cephalopod-like monster continued constricting with pitiless glee, even as limbs dangled macabrely, held in place by tenuous strips of flesh.
Farther on, packs of lycanthropes decimated a battalion comprised of gaunt, hollow-eyed lizards, larger than the usual.
Furred bodies blurred with terrifying speed, massive jaws ripping out throats and hunks of meat with equal ferocity.
The haunting shrieks of their prey joined the hellish chorus of death-screams.
The faster they ran, the quicker the ravenous horde overtook their ranks—until all lay in oozing pieces amid crimson puddles.
Two enormous Razorlf beasts collided dramatically in an avalanche of scythed talons, snapping fangs and lashing tails.
Their primitive savagery was breathtaking as they shredded rusted armor and hide in order to access the hot lifeblood pulsing just beneath.
As one found purchase in its opponent's unprotected flank, a sinuous neck curved, reptilian head descending to clamp onto the vulnerable throat.
The dying creature emitted a gurgling wail that cut off abruptly in a fountain of arterial spray. The lizard-beast drank deeply, spine ridges shivering in bliss.
Everywhere Northern darted his gaze, similar scenes of slaughter played out.
The sheer ruthless of these monsters would make grown men flee in shrieking terror.
But amid the chaos he seemed almost like an avenging dark angel dealing out just punishment—his onyx sword sang as it cleaved through torsos and vertebrae in great spilling fountains of ichor.
The battle still raged with no end in sight. But surrounded by such overwhelming carnage, Northern felt a thrill at how capably he navigated the tempest.
Perhaps if he continued perfecting his lethal skills, one day he might dole out the destruction rather than only enduring its violence.
A thunderous roar reverberated across the battlefield, momentarily drowning out the cacophony of steel and dying screams.
Night Terror and the lizard monstrosity, both exalted generals of their warring factions, crossed paths amidst the chaos.
A wave of anticipatory violence rippled outward as lesser creatures skittered from their path.
Four baleful red eyes glared with predatory intensity as Night Terror circled on clawed hind legs, seeking an opening in the lizard's formidable defenses.
Its furless tail lashed in anticipation, barbed tip gouging furrows in the blood-soaked soil. Hot saliva dripped from jaws packed with serrated fangs capable of crushing armor and bone between their razor edges.
Stone-like scales rippled as the bipedal lizard rotated in kind, a low hiss emanating from behind rows of shark-like teeth.
Though dwarfed by the hulking fur-covered terror, the lizard exuded an aura promising excruciating demise to any foolish enough to attack.
Curved black claws clacked together, hungry to disembowel vulnerable organs and strip flesh from bone.
A guttural roar shook the air as the two hellions flew at each other in a frenzy of slashing claws, snapping jaws and brutal force.
Muscle and sinew collided as they grappled and shredded, seeking to tear life from hated enemy flesh. Ichor spewed in great arcs with each bloodied wound carved from hide and scale.
They broke apart, circling with primal fury burning in their eyes.
Night Terror feinted then pounced with viper-like speed, sinking fangs deep into the vulnerable underbelly exposed mid-turn.
The lizard shrieked in torment, writhing to dislodge the crushing bite grinding organs behind adamantine teeth.
It whipped its body around, bringing the full crushing weight of its spiked tail smashing into Night Terror's flank.
Ribs cracked audibly beneath the sledgehammer impact, forcing the brute to relinquish its death-grip lest spine itself splinter next.
They retreated, chests heaving and bodies leaking rivulets of brilliant vital fluids.
But this battle was far from over. These were apex warriors at the height of their power—and both had centuries of vicious warfare etched into their souls.
A mere exchange of devastating injuries would never force submission.
They had scarce seconds to brace their wounds against further trauma before explosive movement signaled the next blistering round of attacks.
Jaws opened in chilling bellows as they charged again, this clash ringing through the battlefield.