A heavy, sulfuric hiss rolled down from the jagged basalt ridges surrounding the valley floor, preceding the descent of a thick yellow fog that swallowed the red scrub plains in minutes.
The vapor moved with unnatural density, tumbling over the scree slopes like curdled cream, smelling sharply of scorched brass and rotting bile. Disciples crossing the open flats raised their defensive wards in immediate panic, flaring azure, crimson, and pale white barriers to ward off the encroaching haze.
Yet the mist did not deflect against standard spiritual shields.
The moment the acidic vapor brushed the exterior arrays, a sickening, corrosive fizzing sound echoed across the stone, eating through the outer barriers like lye poured over grease.
Two junior cultivators from the western peaks stumble
