The sky above Dragon Horn Castle was painted in two colors, half the orange of the setting sun and half the eerie blue of magic power.
Beneath the city walls, the corpses of Pukis littered the ground.
The high-intensity battle had blasted every inch of land into ruins, and even the fungal mat wasn't spared.
The blackened layers of fungi smoldered, some still smoking, others stamped into muck by the soldiers of both sides.
Another wave of Pukis surged forward.
They rolled over the corpses, tentacles waving, their round bodies deftly dodging through the rain of arrows and magic. Yet, under the near-saturation of attacks, only a few managed to reach the base of the wall and explode.
On the eastern section of the city wall, a corner had crumbled.
