The battlefield, already a maelstrom of chaos and valor, teetered on the brink of a cataclysmic shift. Prince Mofo, his confidence as unyielding as the armor of his soldiers, found his certainty shattered in an instant.
A guttural cry tore from his lips, "Move!" a desperate command to move, as he witnessed the earth itself betray the loyalty it owed to its stewards.
Behind his valiant ranks, the ground convulsed violently, birthing a monstrous wave of earth, sand, and stone that towered over the men like an avenging specter.
His warning, though fervent, was a dirge sung too late. The soldiers, caught in the throes of battle fervor, found their reactions ensnared by disbelief. Their fates were sealed not by enemy steel but by the very land they sought to dominate.
With a ferocity that mirrored the wrath of the gods, the earthen tsunami broke its crest, a behemoth crashing down upon them with a force that spoke of finality and ruin.
