On the fiery battlefield of Hell, where chaos and torment reigned supreme, a lone figure stood resolute. His golden eyes, adorned with star-shaped pupils, shimmered with an otherworldly radiance that pierced through the surrounding darkness. Clad in armor forged from the essence of celestial bodies, he emanated an aura of power and purpose.
Before him stretched an army of demons and devils, their grotesque forms twisted and contorted in their wickedness. Their eyes burned with malice, and their fangs dripped with the blood of countless souls they had devoured. The stench of sulfur and brimstone filled the air, mingling with the heat and smoke of the infernal realm.
Undeterred by the overwhelming odds, the man's gaze remained steady and unwavering as he looked at the army in front of him, displaying total indifference.
In fact, instead of showing any signs of fear, it was the army of Hell that began to show signs of retreating.
They knew him—and they knew his power.
