The air wailed as the Abysmal Belial emerged, its new form a paradox: simultaneously corporeal and abstract, like a phantom carved from darkness itself.
Four arms ended in hands that stretched in a twisted, unnatural manner, nearly touching the ground, their fingertips bending light into carnival-mirror distortions.
As it walked, the ground didn't crumble—it vanished, dissolving into fine ash that left strange voids in the concrete floor.
Northern's remaining clones hovered in the sky, their breaths shallow and harsh, all wearing the same defiant, stubborn expression.
The creature stalked forward, leaving holes in the concrete with each step.
They waited in taut silence until the creature glanced up. Its crimson eyes blazed with such intense red flame that Northern felt ice creep down his spine.
Then it shot up.
For the first time, a movement forced open Chaos Eyes and Northern could not still catch up with the movement.
If there even was one.
