The fog had thickened so much, it completely blinded them. They could barely breathe through the weight of the corrupted aura pressing down from every direction.
Every step stirred the stench of rot and decay—an unbearable odor that clung to their lungs and minds like poison.
Frey tried not to ask the question.
But he couldn't stop himself.
"What exactly are we walking on?"
Driven by a surge of curiosity, Frey slowly leaned forward, trying to get a better look at the blood-slick ground beneath them.
With the help of his Hawk Eyes, everything came into sharp focus—and his face darkened with every passing second.
That wasn't just some slimy terrain.
The solid black earth was still there underneath…
What they were walking on… was flesh and blood.
The tension spiked violently when he realized it.
They were treading over corpses.
Thousands—no, far more than that.
Twisted, mutilated bodies had been laid across the ground like some grotesque carpet.
