The scene was in shambles, a true representation of chaos and carnage. Some places were on fire, while sounds of fighting resounded in other places.
Around, dead bodies could be seen, most of the visible ones belonging to the white skin tall beings whose camp it was. The causes of death were different, as different as each fight for life against the claws of death could be.
Limbs were also among what was littering the ground, with blood of a color that would surprise any human painting it.
In the middle of the camp, Mountain was standing tall, his armor made of earth crumbling in some places, as he looked at the only foe of his level in front of him. Despite the latter's state that was as enticing and distracting as it could be, he was frowning beneath his half destroyed mask, his thoughts reviewing the fight.
