Surrounding the altar were dozens of Outer God lackeys, their mutated forms more grotesque than any they had encountered before.
One wielded crystalline spikes imbued with a mutation of light and shadow, creating blinding bursts that disoriented the senses.
Another figure radiated waves of distortion that bent sound and light, warping perception to create illusions that made it impossible to tell reality from illusion.
The grotesque leader at the forefront exuded an aura so oppressive it forced even the seasoned trio to momentarily halt.
The sheer malevolence radiating from its corrupted form bore the unmistakable mark of power that transcended ordinary limits—a Level 9.9 Overlord.
Its sinew and tentacles pulsed with dark crimson flux, a grotesque reflection of the immense energy it had amassed. The very air around it seemed to decay, its mutated annihilation gift gnawing away at the integrity of the space itself.
