Northern and the forces of the Kingdom of Red Mines stood shoulder to shoulder to face off against the monstrous creatures.
The clash of metal against scales reverberated through the battlefield, a symphony of violence and chaos.
The lizard-like monsters, with their obsidian-black scales and razor-sharp talons, lunged at them with savage fury. Their eyes glowed a malevolent red, reflecting the fires that raged around and within them, despite their cold-blooded nature.
Amidst the carnage, Northern fought with unrelenting effort. The Mortal Blade moved with a rough fluidity and precision, cutting through the enemy ranks like a scythe through wheat.
Blood splattered his brown armor, staining it a dark crimson, but he paid no heed to the gore that surrounded him. His face, once marked by determination and hope, now bore a haunted expression.
With each swing of his blade, Northern's grip on reality slipped.
