Jormungandr had become a colossus, a serpentine deity stretched across the skies above the Voidheart Fortress.
His vast body coiled through the clouds in chaotic grace, forming arcs that resembled mountains made of living water. Each movement sent gusts of hurricane winds howling across the battlefield. His deep blue-black scales shimmered with streaks of crackling, lightning-like energy, as though he had consumed the very breath of a storm.
He was a being born from hunger, reborn through battle, and forged in power.
The skin of the True Depravita of Gluttony was etched with glowing runes—bioluminescent sigils that pulsed like the beat of a cosmic heart. These markings weren't simply magical—they resonated with a force equal to the fundamental Laws of the Universe, but alien in form and function. They twisted in patterns beyond comprehension, beautiful and terrible.
