Hell's Mountain loomed on the horizon like a colossal titan.
The name alone was a foreboding invitation to the treacherous terrain that awaited the warring guilds. It was a landscape that defied convention, a fusion of volcanic fury and nightmarish grandeur.
As Doom Serenity and Snow Angel positioned themselves for battle, the atmosphere itself seemed to pulse with an air of tension.
The Mountain's rocky slopes, charred and jagged, sprawled across the battlefield like the gnarled teeth of some ancient, wrathful creature.
The ground beneath was uneven and unforgiving, a chaotic terrain marked by uneven fissures and treacherous drops.
The air held a lingering scent of sulfur, a reminder of the Mountain's fiery temperament. Columns of smoke curled from crevices, and the sky was a canvas of swirling hues –– deep oranges and fiery reds –– casting an eerie glow upon the combatants.