His breaths breathed plagues, and his steps withered life. His gaze sets ablaze, and his touch ashes it to dust. He was known by many names, a wither, a warlock, a demon lord, and even as the king of wraths and undead. Proudly seated at the head of the demonic procession, consisting of countless skeletons, spirit golems, and a single ceremonious Dullahan at the charge, his empty gaze fell over to the expansive walls of Aria coming into his view.
'Let's see what the land of warriors has to offer…' Raising his armored hand, he stopped the procession from moving an inch further.
"It's been a while since I've moved my muscles," hearing him say that his skeleton army as well as the golem cackled hysterically. And it didn't take long for him to join their laughs either.
Crossing his legs over the undead horse, the king of wrath slipped down to his feet. The moment his armor felt the earth, it subsided the dirt underneath.
