Under the dim evening galaxy light, the surroundings were now cloaked in a foreboding and perilous tension, thick enough to crush mortal will and even tear apart the godhood aspirations of lesser celestials. In the midst of this magnanimous grave stood Nyxander, draped in a dark grey cloak streaked with arcs of white lightning, dancing like celestial serpents across a storm-lit sky.
Across from him, twenty-five colossal Primordial Beasts thundered forward, their monstrous forms moving with uncanny speed that defied the logic of their size. Each one bellowed a war cry that shattered the silence, unleashing a torrent of elemental fury, blasts of lightning, torrents of wind, rivers of fire, and raw pulses of pure energy erupted from the glowing tips of their horns, painting the battlefield with destruction.
