A mighty force of oppression descended, and in an instant, within a hundred-mile radius, almost all living beings shuddered, feeling a fear that emanated from their very souls.
This fear came from Hell, a natural dread of the evil order that opposes the Gods.
"By Amanata above..."
"What a terrifying presence... what, what exactly is that?"
"Oh God..."
"Doomsday, that is the end of days! It is divine punishment for our disrespect of the Gods!"
Under the gaze of millions, Zarriel's body rose from the vortex—she stood over fifteen feet tall, her burning wings covering half of the battlefield, with each feather inscribed with holy texts blackened by Hellfire, trailing embers like meteors.
Her armor was forged from molten Black Iron, with lava flowing through its cracks.
Her visage retained the majesty of an angel, but her eyes had turned into two boiling blood-red fireballs, and the gaze from the cracks in her helmet was enough to make the craziest barbarian curl up and shiver.
