"We finally did it!"
The words were spoken with more exhaustion than triumph. The team had struggled with every fibre of their being for nearly an entire day against the Elite Wrathers and their Sorolith bosses.
After John had reorganised them into specialised strike teams, the efficiency had spiked; they began to kill one battalion every two hours. Yet, as the tenth hour passed, a sense of crushing futility began to set in. It felt as if the purple fog was a bottomless well of nightmare.
The first wave John had lured out was dead, replaced by a second, and then a third. It seemed that every time he tossed a cluster of cores into that unnatural fog, a fresh, gleaming group of scaled horrors emerged to take the place of the fallen.
