A wave of oppressive energy radiated outward. The ground quaked violently, cracks splintering in the palace stone. The air itself seemed to shiver under the weight of the being's presence. Vashno instinctively took a step back, circling to maintain distance. Every instinct in him screamed: this was no ordinary enemy—it was a cataclysm incarnate.
The transformation reached its peak. The liquid around the figure exploded outward in a torrent of darkness and blood, sending shards of stone and remnants of the palace flying into the air. The figure rose fully, its body towering, shimmering with a dark, viscous aura. Its eyes were like molten gold, radiating a light that burned through the very fabric of reality.
