A scene of pure massacre unfolded in the boundless void.
Blood painted the darkness.
Laws surged with unrelenting force.
Weapons gleamed, cutting through space.
As a result heads fell—of the enemies, of course.
Planets cracked.
Constellations annihilated.
Entire sectors of space were reduced to nothingness.
It was a war beyond mortal comprehension—a symphony of destruction and vengeance.
The primals and Kievans, each a force of nature in their own right—fought with unparalleled ferocity, as if to prove themselves before their emperor, their God.
Their powers clashed against the dark legions of the Dark Sovereign's Cult, tearing through their ranks like unstoppable calamities.
The battlefield became a crucible of fire and death, where only the strongest could remain standing.
Amidst the carnage, Aengus stood unmoving, his gaze calm yet piercing.
