The eastern battlefield came into view slowly.
At first, it was just a faint disturbance on the horizon, a smudge where the forest seemed to break apart, and where the canopy thinned and the air itself looked heavier, warped by distant surges of mana and heat.
Boom!
A distant explosion rippled through the air.
Elion felt it even from this height.
The bird beneath him shifted slightly, letting out a strained cry as the pressure rolled past them, its wings faltering for just a moment before it steadied itself again.
"Almost there," Yakuza called out over the wind.
Elion didn't respond. His eyes were locked ahead. As they got closer, the full scale of the battlefield revealed itself.
The forest had been torn apart. Parts of it were not just scarred, but annihilated to oblivion.
Massive sections of land were flattened completely, trees ripped from the ground and scattered like broken sticks, while others burned endlessly, thick columns of smoke rising into the sky.
