The Chaos Domain, the Summit Central Temple.
A crisp ringing echoed through the air. Dressed in a high-collared gentleman's suit, with the Cyrinishad in hand, Cyric Avatar gazed at his handiwork in satisfaction, his skin deathly pale and his eyes black.
His scripture. His power.
Nearly twenty thousand Chaos Daemons guarded the Summit Central Temple in the Chaos Domain. Among them were beings whose strength surpassed demon lords, high-ranking solar angels, and divine petitioners. Those towering greater daemons, seven or eight meters tall, could wipe out an entire small army simply by entering the mortal world. No one below the legendary level could stand against them.
Yet now, faced with the power of the Cyrinishad, these Chaos Daemons could only abase themselves and kneel at the feet of Cyric Avatar.
Just as I thought. I alone am the one true god of the Realms.
Vague memories of his mortal days surfaced in the mind of Cyric Avatar: his birth, his experiences in Zhentil Keep, his journey alongside Midnight as they fought to find the Tablets of Fate, how that loathsome warrior Kelemvor had come between them, and how that insufferable cleric Aydin had ruined his perfect plans.
Hatred. Hatred etched into his very bones.
Cyric would never forget how Midnight had abandoned him.
Now he had a marvelous idea-if he could control these daemons and unleash them upon the Realms, what a magnificent spectacle that would be! Judging by the reports sent back by his servant Nate, the Left Hand of God, those four false gods commanded far more than mere hundreds of millions of servants.
Use the Cyrinishad to make their servants submit to me, the universe's one true god. Open the portal, unleash hundreds of millions of daemons, slaughter the false gods, and burn the Realms to ash!