What was called a surprise attack was basically no different from a frontal assault.
In the depths of the wandering crossroads, the poison fog was like condensed death. It felt like an unbearable scent emerging from the Abyss, conjuring images of the putrid liquid dripping on one's head.
Bologue instinctively gripped the hilt of his sword and axe. He felt something quietly lurking within the mist, silently stealthy in the endless wasteland.
Their target was not each other, but rather the people who inadvertently stumbled upon this place. The aura of fear deepened within the abandoned buildings as the poison fog thickened, and in this dark and lonely world, the fog had become the source of all terror.
Until the first glimmer of light arose, a stream of scorching fire burst over Bologue's head, followed by more streams erupting, converging into a dense fire rain and meteors that pierced through the mist, striking the airborne corridor where the team was located.
