Brian stood firm, his silver armor glinting under the dim, otherworldly light of the battlefield. He held his glowing sword aloft, its aura of shimmering silver a stark contrast to the dark, twisted forms of Push, Pull, and their demonic horde. The air around him crackled with tension as the knights fought valiantly on the other side of the battlefield, their shouts mixing with the guttural roars of demons. Despite the chaos, Brian's presence radiated a calm authority, like a lighthouse guiding the lost in a storm.
"Ready for battle, are we?" Push sneered, his voice a low growl that echoed unnaturally. His grotesque form loomed forward, his claws flexing as the horde shifted restlessly behind him.
Pull stepped forward, his voice softer but no less menacing. "You'll find that even your so-called God of Reality won't save you now."
Brian's grip tightened on his sword, his gaze unyielding. "We shall see."
