In a desolate plain far from the main battlefield, the sky was dark gray, as if holding its breath. Sylvia stood in the middle of the cracked earth, her body faintly glowing with a deathly aura that pierced the air. The darkness around her seemed alive; the branches of the Nether Wood crawled along the ground, ready to embrace and crush anyone who dared challenge her.
In front of her, six figures radiated an entirely different kind of light; they were not ordinary heroes but elite paladins, each blessed by an enemy god. Their auras pulsed like waves of pure power, pressing down on Sylvia.
"Velgrath… Nerys… Korthan… Olmerath… Xynareth… Zha'gor…" Sylvia muttered, reading their auras. "Six blessings of enemy gods, and one body capable of facing them all."
The first paladin stepped forward Darian, blessed by Velgrath, his body sheathed in pitch-black light that seemed to swallow every shadow around him. He raised a long sword, its tip glowing darkly.
