Victor hovered in the dark void of space, his crimson aura crackling like storm clouds brewing before a tempest.
Ahead of him, the horde of demons grew closer, their monstrous forms filling the horizon. The air—if there had been any—would have been thick with malice and bloodlust.
At the forefront of the horde was Belakor, and his hulking figure twice the size of any other demon. His skin was an ashen black, veins of molten red glowing beneath it like lava.
Six glowing eyes, set in two uneven rows, tracked Victor's rapid approach. He chuckled, a deep, guttural sound that echoed among his followers.
"This is your champion?" Belakor mocked, his voice like grinding stone. "One pathetic little insect, rushing headlong to its own death?"