Crimson lightning tore across the heavens, its chaotic arcs painting the sky with violent fury as blood surged upward, coalescing into a monstrous figure.
A giant was born—colossal and terrible, its form rising like a mountain of wrath, easily spanning hundreds of meters in height. Its very presence eclipsed the horizon, casting a vast, suffocating shadow that swallowed the land below.
Beneath that barbaric monstrosity stood Akroa.
In comparison, the once-mighty figure looked like a speck—an ant before a storm, a whisper before thunder.
It wasn't just the visual disparity that made the air tremble—it was the overwhelming pressure, the crushing truth that sought to erase Akroa's existence completely.
From dozens of kilometers away, Ricky stood frozen. His pupils contracted as he witnessed the impossible unfold. The towering creature radiated an aura so ancient and violent, even space itself seemed to recoil in protest.
He forgot to breathe.
"…What in the fucking world."
