"Ah, this is war," I mutter as my army runs off with me following after.
I gripped my halberd tightly in my hand before raising it above my head, crying out as I felt the magicians of my army grant me buffs.
But suddenly, a chill ran down my spine, and a question immediately came to mind.
"Was the ground always pitch black?" I muttered before the chilling sensation returned... and my face went pale.
…
(Second Commanders POV)
Was the ground always this pitch-black? It's almost like tar, but it takes the shape of grass…
The grass below the entire battlefield turned an eerie pitch black which made my senses go off as if an alarm rang inside my head.
A cold drop of sweat, nearing the levels of cold you would only find in a snowy wasteland, ran down the back of my neck and dripped into my suit of armor.
"EVERYBODY BE CAREFUL!" I shout instinctively, even though this is something I would never do.
