Book 7 - The Rise of the Depravita Race
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It was a vast, desolate forest stretching for hundreds of kilometers, an ocean of twisted, skeletal trees whose warped branches clawed at a sky eternally shrouded in gloom.
Despite the millions of trees packed closely together, there was no trace of life here. Every trunk looked corrupted and mutated, as though some virulent force of decay had permeated the very soil beneath. The ground itself was crisscrossed by deep cracks that oozed a foul, blackish residue. It felt as if death had seeped so thoroughly into this land that nothing could thrive, not even bare vegetation.
A constant layer of ash blanketed the landscape, swirling in pale drifts that obscured vision. Inhaling this air would be impossible for anyone below the power level of a High Champion; the ash was thick and toxic, laced with the residue of countless battles and destructive energies.
Above this barren realm, a churning mass of chaotic clouds blocked out any sunlight.
