A mere two weeks had passed since the idyllic city of Porto had been a bustling hub of life and culture. Now, it resembled a twisted parody of its former glory. The once vibrant Douro River, a testament to the city's commerce, now flowed sluggishly, choked with debris and the bloated corpses of monstrous invaders. The air, thick with the stench of decay and putrefaction, hung heavy, a constant assault on the senses.
The cobblestone streets, once teeming with life, lay eerily silent. Buildings, once proud testaments to human ingenuity, now stood like hollowed-out teeth, their windows like vacant eye sockets staring blindly into the abyss. Charred timbers poked out from windows like blackened fingers, stark reminders of the inferno that had consumed much of the city.