The Cult of Diablos moved with purpose, preparing their grand spectacle.
At the heart of their fortress, the resurrected being, now fully clad in ancient obsidian armor, gazed at his newly acquired domain. He stood at the center of an immense cathedral, where cultists knelt in reverence, chanting his name.
He took a step forward, his presence alone causing torches to flicker and shadows to stretch unnaturally.
"I have returned," his voice echoed, deep and hollow, carrying the weight of centuries. "Who dares lay claim to my throne?"
The Prophet knelt before him. "The one who calls himself Shadow. He has deceived the world, taken what is yours."
The Hollow Emperor's crimson eyes flickered. "Then he shall be erased."
A war had begun.