Apocalyptic flames danced relentlessly, incinerating everything in its wake.
Grass, rock, ores, leaf, water. Everything was lit on purplish-black flames, and the searing hot wind stirring past the area made these flames spread like wildfire. It didn't leave anything behind, in some cases, not even ashes, as it was entirely destructive, seeking to leave nothing.
A while ago, these destructive flames descended from the skies like a meteor, but now, no such flaming rain could be seen.
But within this region where the threat of absolute death loomed, there was a purple-robed man who had his hands reached out towards a few wisps of apocalyptic flames, pure white energy flowing out of his palms. He was underneath an enclosed valley, relatively hidden from the view of the skies.
Unless people appeared inside the valley, people wouldn't be able to see him.
