Agon lay crumpled on the cold, unfeeling surface of the empty void... a shattered husk of a man, his soul and very being flickering like a dying ember. His body, bruised and broken, barely resembled anything human. Alter Yadred loomed above him, an embodiment of grief given form, his mere presence weighing down the world itself. The oppressive atmosphere suffocated everything, draining color, sound, and life from the empty void.
The assault continued. Each stomp came with a sickening crunch that reverberated through the emptiness, followed by the wet, dull thud of flesh meeting unyielding force. Yadred's movements were intentional, methodical, like an executioner prolonging the inevitable.
Agon barely twitched. His body spasmed weakly with each kick, the faint remnants of resistance flickering out like a candle smothered by the empty void's endless wind. His breath came in shallow gasps, a stuttering rhythm that teetered on the edge of silence.
