The southern valley was looking like a canvas of pure, unadulterated catastrophe. With seven Demon Warlords engaging the mortal colosseum champions simultaneously, the fabric of the physical world began to tear. The bruised red sky above boiled with different temperatures. Massive shockwaves of fire, wind, and shattering earth echoed like continuous thunder, completely drowning out the screeching of the surviving demon horde.
On the right flank, the Dracortis brothers were learning exactly why the bloated abomination in front of them was named a Nightmare. Gourmandise, The Hunger, did not fight with a sword or with casting elegant spells. The massive, thirty-foot tall demon was a mountain of pale, bloated flesh wholly covered in a thousand gnashing, drooling mouths. It simply lumbered forward, its stomach dragging vehemently across the jagged volcanic rock, and it ate everything.
