The Void Cult base sprawled across the landscape, a small city in itself, housing over 470,000 people. The Saints were wreaking havoc on the outer edges, dismantling defenses and structures with divine precision, but they hadn't fully penetrated the heart of the base yet. Explosions and the sounds of battle echoed in the distance, but the base's true strength had yet to be tested.
At the front entrance, where Ralak stood alone, the few guards who remained scrambled in panic. One guard, pale and trembling, shouted desperately, "Reinforcements are on their way! We have numbers—"
But Ralak remained unmoved, his cold eyes staring them down as if their words were inconsequential. "It doesn't matter," he said, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. "You were already foolish enough to leave only fifty of you to protect this gate."
He began walking forward, each step sending tremors through the ground. The guards collapsed, unable to stand, as if the very air around them had become impossibly heavy. They tried to shout, to move, but their bodies were pinned to the earth, limbs trembling under the increasing weight of the invisible force.
"You know," Ralak began, his tone unnervingly calm, "my god, the creator of this world, holds unparalleled control over gravity. And in his wisdom, he bestowed this same gift upon me."
Ralak extended his hand, his fingers slowly curling into a fist. The pressure around the guards intensified, their bodies sinking deeper into the dirt. The weight grew heavier, crushing the air from their lungs, and the ground beneath them began to crack.
"This is the same gift I will use to end your lives."
With a final twist of his hand, Ralak increased the gravity tenfold. The guards screamed, but it was short-lived. Their bones shattered like glass under the immense pressure, their bodies collapsing into themselves, reduced to nothing but twisted puddles of blood and flesh. The sight was both horrifying and awe-inspiring, a testament to the unstoppable power of the Primordial God.
The front gate, once guarded by men who believed science could stand against divine might, was now littered with nothing but remains. And Ralak stood victorious, his gaze now set on the rest of the base.
As Ralak advanced, his power over gravity stretched outward, effortlessly crushing the front gate of the Void Cult's massive base. The gate, once a symbol of security, crumbled like paper under the immense force, and everything in Ralak's path—trees, stones, and buildings—was flattened as if the earth itself was bowing to his will.
Hundreds of cult followers, desperate to protect their home, charged toward him. Their shouts of defiance echoed through the air, and they raised their weapons, firing in a chaotic hail of bullets. But Ralak barely glanced at them, his expression unreadable.
"Pointless," he muttered, his voice laced with disdain.
With a flick of his wrist, he sent his arm forward, then dropped it swiftly. The gravity around the incoming bullets intensified, and the projectiles stopped mid-air, plummeting to the ground like pebbles. The sheer force of the gravity crushed the bullets into the dirt, leaving nothing but small craters where they had landed.
The sight was horrifying. Those at the front who had fired looked in disbelief, while the followers in the back, witnessing this display of unstoppable power, turned to flee in panic. But as they tried to run, they found their legs unable to move. The very air around them seemed to have thickened, locking their bodies in place. They looked back in terror, realizing the futility of their efforts.
"Now, where do non-believers think you're going?" Ralak's voice was low but carried across the field like a death sentence.