The Empire was unraveling.
The barrier had shattered; black lightning split the skies. Temples burned, the air reeked of decay, and the screams of the dying echoed between collapsing spires.
Then—amidst the maelstrom—three figures walked out of the storm.
Each step they took rippled through the flooded streets, and even the storm's madness seemed to pause.
The first was a man cloaked in midnight robes stitched with runes that pulsed faintly red. When he raised his hand, symbols flared across the air—ancient, geometric sigils of pure destruction.
The soldiers nearby felt their hearts tremble.
Even the rain avoided him.
"Begone," Seir said softly, his eyes glowing with crimson light.
With a single gesture, the Law of Ruin unfolded in the sky. A vast circle of intertwined symbols rotated like a burning wheel. It pulsed once—
—and the black lightning vanished, consumed by its own annihilation.
