Sloth, Gluttony, and Reggie were immersed in the ecstasy of mutual destruction with Roland and the so-called death aesthetics when, below them, the battle was reaching a fever pitch.
"Fever pitch" can no longer accurately describe the current state; the past expression used to describe aerial combat—"three parts sky, seven parts blood"—now seems filled with warmth and a touch of humanity.
It is the storm of death, the tornado of destruction, the hurricane of devastation. When violence and slaughter converge in one place, dancing crazily at speeds several times faster than sound, it becomes a massive vortex combining iron, blood, and fire, where any unfortunate object caught within is reduced to ashes after disintegrating into powder.
Fourteen units flew at Mach 5, with shockwaves, beams, explosions, missiles, fluid metal, and high frequency locked chain swords intersecting and clashing, looking from afar like a pitch-black cloud brewing thunderstorms.
