The ground trembles beneath Ren's boots as the shattered plain expands outward, every step pulling him deeper into the battlefield that feels alive with malice. The jagged rocks pulse faintly with crimson veins, as if the land itself remembers every drop of blood spilled here. His breath comes heavy but steady, his grip tightening around the broken hilt of his weapon. The storm above does not fade—it swells, as if answering the clash that waits ahead.
From the rift at the far end of the field, the beast emerges fully now. Its form is grotesque, stitched together from the remnants of fallen warriors, its massive shoulders bending under the weight of countless skulls embedded in its flesh. Its many eyes blink in unison, each glinting with the hunger of chaos. When it roars, the battlefield shakes, and shards of the black earth splinter into the air, spinning like blades.
