The age of the fallen beast

Previously

…Nibbles, meanwhile, had discovered a spilled bag of sunflower seeds near the remains of a pretzel stand. He nudged one with his nose, a tiny squeak of pure joy escaping him. Even in the midst of an apocalypse, and the sonic assault of 80s pop, a hamster could find his own little piece of heaven. The world was safe. The dinosaurs, for the moment, were at peace. And somewhere, in a dimension far, far away, a very bored sorcerer was probably desperately searching for a soundproof room and a playlist of death metal. The age of the fallen beast had, it seemed, been brought down not by swords or shields, but by the sheer, unadulterated power of terrible, terrible music.