His steps were steady, carrying a subtle discernible solemnity, as he walked toward the heavy wooden door of the blacksmith workshop that had quietly opened at some unknown time.
As he stepped over the threshold, the scene before him shattered like a broken mirror, collapsed, and vanished, only to instantly reorganize and solidify.
The warm and bright workshop was completely replaced by an endless, suffocating desolation and silence.
He stood on a vast and lifeless battlefield.
The sky was a suffocating leaden gray, the ground charred and cracked, like the bones of a giant beast.
Everywhere he looked, there were broken walls, fragmented war chariots, twisted and snapped long spears, mottled and rusted swords, and... countless corpses fallen to the ground, already decayed into pale white bones.
The thick smell of blood and metal had long been dried by time, leaving only the pungent, decayed scent of dust and the eternal breath of death.
