The writhing monsters were like the physical embodiment of humanity's deepest fears, with bifurcated limbs, soft and sticky tentacles, countless eyes, and flesh of interwoven bright red and pure black. They moved across the ground, dragging dark, damp trails behind them.
For a time, vegetation withered and dried out, and from the traces of destruction, something like mold expanded and spread, devouring everything.
At the same time, a dark mist rose all around, the island stewards enveloped in this fog began to cough. Their faces turned black, their skin peeled off, revealing festering flesh and bone. White wriggling worms grew on that flesh, and the bones turned yellow and crumbled into disconnected fragments.
More monsters were born from the carcasses.
The sizes of these monsters were inconsistent, even as they moved forward, they kept splitting and recombining. Combined with the dazzling metallic luster on their skins, they caused dizziness and muddled consciousness.
