Battlefield of the White Town Region.
As far as the eye could see, an endless expanse of dark red earth stretched beneath a sky heavy with swirling crimson clouds, the air vibrating with a low, ominous hum that seemed to pulse in time with the distant clashes of weapons and shouts of warriors.
The ground itself bore deep scars—rivers of hardened, rust-colored fissures running like veins across the barren landscape, testimony to countless battles fought and lives extinguished over untold years.
It was said that so much blood had been spilled upon this soil that it had permanently dyed the earth this ghastly shade of red, and though this was merely the outermost edge of the battlefield, the weight of slaughter and carnage pressed upon the senses like a suffocating shroud.
Into this grim tableau arrived Max and his team, stepping cautiously toward the boundary between safety and chaos, the pungent scent of blood and scorched metal filling their nostrils with every breath.
