World Of The Lost

Death.

The world was covered in the stench of it. 

No matter where you looked, there would always be a dead body—a gaping corpse whose wretched form stared back at you.

The skies seemed to be shrouded in an eternal night, and a nonsensical mix of freezing heat pervaded everything.

Chaos was rampant. 

Destruction became trite. 

Humanity, after fighting the long war for fifteen straight years… was finally on the brink of extinction.

In this despairing world, three silhouettes sped across the devastated battlefield. 

They trampled on the bodies of their fallen comrades, their feet splashing around the blood of the dismembered corpses around them.

Despite such obvious desecration, they didn't seem to care.

Their goal—The Chamber of the Ancients—was far too valuable for any kind of hesitation in their march.

Also, they were in a bit of a hurry.

~WHOOSH!~