The mountain plateau bent beneath the weight of two titans.
The void commander's presence rolled across the ridges like a tide of midnight, his aura twisting the air until the horizon itself seemed warped, broken, consumed. Jagged cracks spread beneath his feet, and every breath he took exhaled violet qi, thick with the stench of rot and inevitability. His gauntlet pulsed like a second heart, its runes alive, hungry, demanding blood to feed the void.
Before him stood Tian Shen.
Silver flames burned along his spear, the heat flickering faint but sharp, a light so clean that the void itself recoiled when it touched the air. His robes hung torn from battle, his blood still wet on his sleeves, but his stance was unshakable. A man who had endured tribulation, who had survived the storm of heavens themselves, now met the storm of the abyss.
