The world held its breath.
The ravaged borderlands, a canvas of scorched earth and shattered stone, became a silent, consecrated stage for a conflict that transcended mortal understanding. Three beings, each an embodiment of absolute power, faced one another across the epicenter of the devastation they had wrought.
The Ten-Armed Ruin God Ingranad was a monument to primordial terror, a living apocalypse of obsidian, shadow, and soul-fire. His ten arms, four spectral and six terrifyingly real, moved with an unnatural, independent grace, each hand crackling with a different flavor of damnation.
Beside him, the Infinite Void Embodiment Bartolomew was a hole in reality, a humanoid rift in space whose very presence made the light bend and the laws of physics weep.
