"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"
Elara's voice was strained, forced out through gritted teeth in a desperate, ragged rhythm. She kept muttering the curse word like a mantra, trying to keep her mind busy, trying to drown out the blinding agony pulsing from her mangled left arm.
But it was useless, really.
She stumbled forward, her boots slipping on the slick, blood-stained asphalt. The terrain around her was an absolute nightmare. When that weird land collapsed, geography had seemingly given up. It was a literal maze of destruction.
Random things were scattered everywhere—crushed sedans, shattered machines, and chunks of massive concrete pillars. But the worst part was the environment itself. The terrain was so weird and violently folded that there were massive, ancient trees growing horizontally out of the walls to her left and right. There were even thick, jagged roots hanging from floating chunks of bedrock directly above her head.
It was a suffocating, three-dimensional labyrinth.
