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This is what I have of Chapter 3 so far, hope someone could give me some ideas:

In the pine forests of a frozen wasteland, a human, trekked up the steep, snow covered earth, sinking into the icy snow. Behind him, black smoke rose from the fires consuming the village. Flames and smoke poured from every window and every door of every house. Some buildings had already collapsed into themselves in a fiery plume of dust.
The human was wearing a white cloak with the hood over his face, hiding the top of his head, and sleeves torn away, leaving his scarred and tattooed arm in plain sight. He wound a white scarf around the lower half of his face, obscuring all but his eyes. White pants that almost reached the soles of his boots, which were made of white fur. His eyes were a white as harsh and cold as the winter he himself was traveling in. His skin was as pale as the snow that surrounded him.
As he walked up the frozen wasteland of a mountain, he slid an ice-white sword back into its sheath on his back. His eyes skimmed the surrounding landscape and returned to fix its gaze ahead of him. He pulled a pair of jet-black shades from a pocket inside his coat, and placed it gingerly onto the ridge of his nose and blocked his eyes and the remainder of his face from view. With a single, fluid motion: he raised his arms, drew symbols into the air, and disappeared in a flash of black and red smoke.

Green muck spewed forth from sewage pipes, sputtering and splattering forwards like fire from a Dragon’s maw, oozing into the already grime-filled tunnels. Shouts and screams echoed in to the tunnels through grates of steel. An orange hue of fire poured down sharply through the grates while smoke poured in to suffocate any life.
“Hurry, the McDarvys’ house is almost gone! Bring more water!”
Sizzling sounds and splashing sounds emanated from the heart of the town, which was set ablaze, lighting the night sky red. The fire spread faster than the villagers could put out. Even as the water splashed onto the flames, putting it out, the flames around it would dry it and then light it aflame like a match.
While the flames raged on, a Mage threw magic at a boy who danced around the magic as if it were a game. The boy was laughing, a maniacal laughter, like there was nothing funnier than what he was seeing. As he laughed, his voice deepened into a harsh grating growl and his skin quickly became covered in fur.
“A Half-beast?! But that’s not possible! You were supposed to be banished to the furthest reaches of Hell along with the Demons!” Screamed the Mage.
“That’s what you thought!” Growled what used to be the boy.
Now, it was standing a full height of 2 meters tall, a dark orange Fox stood on its two hind legs, facing the Mage. Whipping its long, sleek tail around itself, the Half-beast drew back its lips and snarled at the Mage through white teeth. The red tattoos on its face distorted through the growls.
An absent-minded blink from the Mage allowed the Half-beast all the time in the world to erase his existence. Time seemed to slow for the Halfling. It charged forward, seeming to have disappeared as the Mage opened his eyes. Just as quickly as the Halfling had disappeared, it reappeared with an arm in its mouth. Puzzled, the Mage looked around. Then he realized whose arm it was.
A soft glint from the gem of a ring on one of the gnarled fingers told him that the arm was his. Looking down, he saw that his entire stomach had been gouged open and his arm ripped off. Crimson blood spewed from is arm like water off a cliff and blood oozed out from the cavity in his chest that was carved to his spine. The Mage wanted to scream in agony and pain, but all that escaped his mouth was a sick gurgling sound and blood spewing out like a geyser.
As his vision faded and death gripped the Mage, the Half-beast advanced upon him. A thought occurred to him as his vision dissipated. Casting a spell with the last of his energy, he informed the Priest that the Half-beasts were still on Earth. Then he exhaled his last breath and fell asleep forever.
“Pitiful! Truly pitiful. Couldn’t even cast a spell to hurt me. Is that what you humans have turned into?! Weak and worthless?!?” Howled the Halfling as it advanced on the villagers, preoccupied with putting out the flames.
Throughout the clouded and flame-crimson night, screams of agony and cries of plea could be heard from the middle of a forest where a village used to stand.