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Deep within the Obsidian Citadel, a fortress carved from the darkest stone and surrounded by rivers of molten lava, the Abyssal Lords convened. Their forms, cloaked in shadows and exuding malevolent energy, gathered around a massive obsidian table etched with ancient runes pulsing with crimson light.
At the head of the table sat Malakar, his eyes gleaming with sinister intent. "The time has come to reclaim what was once ours," he declared, his voice resonating through the chamber.
Lilith, the Abyssal Lady of Deception, leaned forward, her serpentine eyes narrowing. "The mortal realms are fractured, leaderless. The fall of Damien has left a power vacuum we can exploit."
Draugr, the Abyssal Lord of Undeath, let out a guttural laugh. "My legions are ready. The dead shall rise, and the living will serve or perish."
Malakar raised a hand, silencing the murmurs. "We must act swiftly. The Undead Throne remains unclaimed, and whispers speak of a new contender—one who wields a power unseen since the ancient wars."
Lilith's lips curled into a sly smile. "Then let us ensure this 'contender' meets an untimely end."
The Abyssal Lords nodded in agreement, their plans set in motion to plunge the world into eternal darkness.
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*The battle between light and darkness intensifies as the Abyssal Lords' schemes unfold, threatening to engulf the world in shadow.*