The rising Divine Fog gradually thinned, while the golden figure slowly solidified.
Clad in solemn, heavy armor covered in complex and magnificent patterns, his cape was tattered and torn as if from a brutal war. A distant hurricane whipped it about, making it flap loudly in the wind.
The white-haired, crown-wearing man held a broad Heavy Sword, planting it before him as he stood. He was like an eternal, unyielding Divine Mountain—majestic, imposing, and radiating an aura of immense power. A cold, stern majesty and an irresistible will spread between heaven and earth.
Merely by standing there, he exerted an undeniable gravitational pull, as if the entire World revolved around his will. Like a mythical pillar stabilizing the seas, he forcibly calmed the surging, bloody sea of the Abyss.
His eyes opened, his solemn and commanding gaze reflecting the battlefield as he searched for his enemy.
In an instant, he found it.
