Cities had descended into utter chaos.
The once orderly queues of civilians—lined up with tense patience just moments before—were now fractured into maddened disarray. Screams rose louder than the roaring winds, as the very earth beneath their feet cracked open. Gaia demons erupted from beneath the stone roads and shattered foundations, hulking abominations with bark-plated skin and vines like living whips trailing behind them. Their guttural cries reverberated through the narrow alleys and wide streets alike, the sound like the war chants of hell itself.
Gaia hybrids—grotesque half-breeds of man and corruption—sprang from the shadows, their forms lean, too long, misshapen, and wrong. Their glowing green eyes shimmered like ghostfire, and their snarling jaws were already stained with blood. Some came in packs, launching at families like wild animals. Others crawled along rooftops or dragged themselves out of ruined wells and burned-out shrines.
