In the cluttered silence of his laboratory, the Advisor paced among his instruments, his mind a labyrinth of calculations. Suddenly, the very air seemed to fracture and tear. Tenebris Marcam manifested from the void, his voice urgent and sharp enough to draw blood.
"You need to prepare your armies, right now! Before the Awakened Army comes!"
The Advisor stopped in his tracks, his back turned to the shadow-form. His voice was cold, flat, and absolute. "I'm already prepared."
Far away, at the scorched and jagged landscape of Hellspire, the earth itself seemed to groan under the weight of war. A colossal artillery piece sat anchored in the dirt, its massive barrel aimed defiantly at the churning clouds. Beyond it loomed a dark Citadel, where a swirling, corrupted beam of energy pierced the sky like a beacon, summoning something ancient and foul from the depths of the world.
At the front line, Victoria stood before her gathered forces. The air was thick, tasting of diesel and the metallic tang of dread. Suddenly, a massive BOOM shook the ground, rattling the teeth in her head.
From the horizon, the Awakened Army appeared—a literal sea of corrupted villagers, hulking executioners, and heavy battle tanks. In the background, a rhythmic, bone-chilling drum began to beat. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Victoria gritted her teeth, her jaw tightening as she surveyed her defense: 30,000 soldiers standing firm, 1,000 Abrams tanks idling, 500 Golden Juggernauts glowing with inner power, two Behemoth Tanks of Doom, and the one massive artillery piece that held their only hope for a future.
Her walkie-talkie crackled to life, the Oil Keeper's voice strained and distorted over the static. "Bzzzt—We only have 3 rounds of artillery shells. Protect the artillery at all costs, this is our only hope to save humanity."
With a collective, earth-shaking roar, the human forces charged.
The battlefield instantly became a meat grinder. Soldiers plunged into the fray, bayoneting corrupted villagers in a spray of dark fluid, while Executioners swung massive axes that sheared through armor and bone, cutting men in half with terrifying ease. Victoria was a whirlwind of motion; she dodged a killing blow, swung her hammer in a devastating 360-degree arc, and brought it down on a nearby Executioner, crushing its skull into the dirt.
In the center of the clash, corrupted Battle Tanks pulverized lines of Abrams tanks into burning husks. But the tide shifted as a massive Pathfinder Tank barreled through the ranks, ramming everything in its path. A Golden Juggernaut intercepted it, slamming its massive, glowing fists into the Pathfinder's hull and sending the multi-ton machine flying through the air to crush dozens of corrupted villagers below.
Then, a sickening, metallic CRACK echoed across the field.
The Battle Master Tank had arrived. Every shot from its main cannon created a vacuum of fire, erasing entire squads of soldiers in an instant. Victoria's eyes widened at the sheer scale of the carnage—but her distraction lasted a split second too long. A corrupted villager lunged from the chaos, its teeth sinking deep into the side of her neck.
Victoria grunts in agony as a hot, purple infection seeps into her veins. Her vision blurs, the edges of the world turning dark and jagged. She fell to her knees as an Anti-Corrupt Helo screamed overhead, raining down canisters of antidote like silver rain. She lunged for a fallen vial, her fingers slick with blood, and stabbed the needle deep into her thigh.
Victoria coughed violently, spitting out mouthfuls of thick, purple blood that hissed against the dirt. She snarled with a primal rage, grabbing the villager that had bitten her and slamming its head into the earth with a final, vengeful strike.
She looked up, gasping for air as her heart hammered against her ribs—and then, a roar so powerful it seemed to freeze the very molecules of the air stopped the battle in its tracks.
A shadow eclipsed the sun, plunging the battlefield into an unnatural twilight. The Curse Devourer dragon hovered in the sky, its massive wings beating like the slow pulse of a dying world.
Victoria's face went pale, her eyes filled with absolute, paralyzing dread.
"So that's what I saw."