*BANG!*
The gate didn't just open.
It exploded outward with force that made the volcanic plains shudder like a living thing flinching from pain, corrupted energy bleeding into reality in waves thick enough to taste.
And through that threshold stepped nightmares wearing crowns.
The first figure materialized with a presence that made darkness itself look inadequate.
15 feet of pure malevolence compressed into vaguely humanoid shape, obsidian armor drinking light with such efficiency that looking directly at him created afterimages of absolute void where eyes expected reflection.
Azkarath the Devourer.
His crimson eyes swept across the assembled divine forces with the kind of hunger usually reserved for starving predators spotting wounded prey, and the air around him screamed silently as reality tried desperately to maintain coherent form despite his mere existence suggesting otherwise.
