When the gates finally opened, what the Archangel, the Demon Lord, and the Devil Lord beheld was no mere tomb or prison—it was the embodiment of horror itself. Bound within a void that seemed older than time, a grotesque entity writhed at the heart of the dimension. Its body was no single form but a churning abyss, a mass of tangled tendrils that stretched in every direction like rivers of living darkness.
The thing strained ceaselessly against colossal chains of black metal, each link forged from forces so ancient and terrible they seemed to hum with the echo of creation itself.
From this imprisoned horror radiated not just darkness but a malice so profound it felt as though reality itself recoiled. Demon and Devil alike were beings of cruelty, of ambition, of endless slaughter. Yet even their wickedness had its logic—they sought to conquer, to shape the worlds they ruined into empires of their own.
