The monsters came like the end of the world itself. From every horizon, they advanced—a living tide that swallowed the earth. Hundreds of millions of monsters, their bodies a writhing mass of scales and fur and claws, moved in perfect order, obeying the command of their emperor.
Ocean leviathans, land titans, winged predators from the sky—an entire ecosystem of annihilation converging on a single point.
They advanced in disciplined ranks: first the warrior-level beasts, then the Masters, then the Grandmasters, then the Kings and Emperors at the very rear. This was not a mindless beast tide. It was like a war between two intelligent species.
The colossal octopus was watching with calm eyes, its vast tentacles drifting across the waves like drifting mountain ranges. Its crimson eyes regarded the scene as though observing ants squabbling at the edge of a campfire. For it, this was not war. It was extermination.
