"It's my turn."
"I'll go on ahead."
"I will win this battle."
On the Chaos Ancient Clan's side, a figure wreathed in black demonic energy stepped forward and headed toward the Arena.
As he took that step, the black demonic energy coiling around him churned and seethed like a living thing.
Wherever he passed, all light was swallowed, leaving only a heart-clenching gloom.
That demonic energy was as thick as ink, yet possessed an uncanny fluidity.
It circled and slithered around him like tiny black vipers, occasionally gathering into distorted faces that opened their mouths in silent howls before dissolving back into mist.
He was immensely tall, standing a full nine feet. Amid the crowd, he resembled a black iron tower, blocking out every last trace of light from those around him.
His shoulders were as broad as door panels, yet his waist tapered sharply, his dark skin clinging tightly to his bones.
It outlined every muscle in stark, angular relief, like an ancient totem carved into a cliff face.
His arms were exceedingly long; when they hung at his sides, his fingertips nearly reached his knees.
All ten fingers were as thick as iron rods, with dense clusters of black, scaly spines growing between their joints.
Each spine was only about an inch long, yet as sharp as a steel needle, gleaming with a cold, eerie green light beneath the demonic energy.
His hands had no fingernails. In their place were ten black talons curved like sickles.
Their surfaces were covered in dark red markings that wound and intersected across the black keratin like trails of dried blood.
His head had an irregular diamond shape, with sunken cheeks and cheekbones jutting high and sharp as though carved by a blade.
The skin of his face clung to his bones