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Chapter 100 - The Crimson Pact

A storm churned above the Obsidian Conclave, a roiling mass of unnatural fury. The sky bled in violent swirls of crimson and violet, clouds twisting as though alive, their edges jagged with the weight of something ancient and wrathful. Lightning cracked, not born of nature but summoned by ritual—a jagged omen of a world teetering on the edge of collapse. The air itself thrummed with a low, guttural pulse, as if the earth beneath the Conclave groaned under the strain of forbidden magic.

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