Asura, once one of the Eight Divine Generals, struggled through countless centuries of endless darkness and pain. At last, he shattered the shackles binding him, slowly crawling out from the abyss of Hell and setting foot once more upon this long-lost human world.
His body broke free from massive, heavy rocks. Each shattered stone was accompanied by a low rumble, like the earth itself sighing, both reverent and mournful at the return of this former hero.
Asura was bare-chested, his arms like weapons forged by the gods themselves, tightly encased in a layer of metal that flashed with cold light. That metal seemed to contain some ancient and powerful force, fused with his flesh and impossible to separate.
His skin was covered in intricate, mysterious patterns. The instant he awakened, those patterns began to flow, glowing with intertwined dim blue and crimson light, like the brightest stars in the night sky and like magma churning beneath an abyss, inspiring awe.
His eyes were no longer ordinary things that mortals could possess. They had become two blazing masses of white light, their pupils long since swallowed by that boundless radiance, leaving behind only a pure, profound white. They seemed capable of seeing through the essence of all things in the world, yet also seemed to embody total oblivion and transcendence from all past suffering.
Yet behind those eyes lay an indescribable fury and sorrow, an emotion born from the depths of his soul. Like a caged beast, it was ready at any moment to burst through its restraints and ravage the human world.
This anger, like tangible mist, coiled around Asura's body and formed an invisible shield. Even from far away, one could sense the utterly suffocating atmosphere it gave off.
But Asura himself showed no signs of irritability or losing