Vador felt a cold shiver run down his spine as he observed the scene from above. The abomination, a grotesque fusion of flesh and necrotic magic, now dominated the battlefield. Its forelimbs, resembling obsidian scythes, struck the ground with titanic force, cracking the earth and sending shards of stone flying in all directions. The shrill scream it had let out still echoed in his ears, a cursed resonance refusing to fade.
But what struck him the most was the reaction of the Variant Scourges. Hildanor and his companions did not seem afraid. On the contrary, their stillness was almost unsettling. The commander, in particular, bore an expression of pure disgust, as if this creature were an insult to his very existence.
For a moment, Vador wondered if he should flee. Logic dictated that he should put as much distance as possible between himself and this horror. But something held him back. A morbid curiosity, perhaps, or a need to understand what was happening. He couldn't look away.
