Above the moist swamp filled with water vapor stands a majestic peak.
Terrifying booming sounds echo frequently throughout the area, the air filled with a crackling and tingling power, mercilessly driving away weaker living creatures.
The source of all this originates from the summit of the peak.
There, an immensely large Rune Formation is established out of thin air, continuously attracting freely roaming Energy Particles from the heavens and earth, turning them into thick streams of electric current.
At the center where copious amounts of Thunder and Thunder Slurry intertwine, a huge dark purple electric sphere rolls, continuously releasing terrifying energy fluctuations as if it was nurturing some dreadful entity.
At a certain moment, countless lightning bolts from the sky suddenly converge towards one point, all returning to that dark purple electric sphere.
The massive dark purple electric sphere rapidly expands, its emitted aura becoming increasingly terrifying until, at a certain climax, "boom!"
The sound of thousands of lightning bolts exploding simultaneously, the massive dark purple electric sphere bursts open, endless electric currents forming a dense, dazzling waterfall, cascading downwards, instantly dispersing the fog below, evaporating the water vapor, turning a vast swamp into dry, scorched land occupied by electrical fire and Thunder Slurry...
Meanwhile, under a pristine and clear sky cleansed by a sudden downpour, between the majestic peak and the vault of heaven, a figure surrounded by countless bolts of lightning stands quietly.
He is an extremely handsome young man.
His eyes brew stormy clouds, each strand of his hair wrapped with lightning, his Magic Robe as if woven from lightning.
He gazes calmly down at the earth below, an innate nobility about him, like a King from legends wielding the authority of thunder, or an ancient Living Creature born from Thunder and Flames, every move and glance silently expressing the mysteries and majesty of the sky.
A deep and grand voice echoes from the peak, carrying an undeniable intent.
"Go, reclaim the glory you briefly lost.
Etch down your name, and that of the council, at the seat established by Heramus..."
The handsome man lightly touches his left shoulder with his right hand, calmly bowing towards the direction of the peak.
Then, his profound gaze shifts to the distant horizon, and in the next instant, his entire being transforms into a dazzling sphere of lightning, abruptly tearing through the sky.
"You should be ready... to taste the sensation of a heart pierced by Thunder."
Meanwhile, on a certain Black Plain.
Blood-colored thick clouds obscure the sky, sweeping quickly across the plain.
Wherever the dense cloud-like lumps of coagulated blood pass, the weaker creatures moving beneath on the plain immediately bleed from their skin, dying silently without even a chance to scream, only Death and despair spreading.
Within the blood-colored clouds, a more than four-meter tall Flesh Monster, looking as if its skin was gruesomely stripped, exposing only raw muscles and veins shaped into a bizarre form of armor, races fiercely with a cold expression.
He seems like a powerful magnet naturally capable of absorbing blood, with the blood from the creatures forcibly stripped of all their blood converging mid-air into a trickling red stream, all of it flowing towards him.
The aura of the dreadful Flesh Monster clad in bloody armor escalates constantly, yet his eyes occasionally flash with intensified caution and wariness, looking back from time to time as if he’s being chased by someone.
Suddenly, a terrifying sharp whooshing sound arises.
A blurry dark figure tears through the Void, crossing vast distances, instantly rupturing the blood clouds, arriving right behind the Flesh Monster.
Anticipating this, the Flesh Monster turns fiercely with a savage expression, punching towards the dark figure.
The horrifying Shock from the Spell and the residual energy waves explode, scattering fragments of the blood-colored cloud nearby; the Flesh Monster also seems to be heavily stricken, a bit disheveled as it retreats.
But before he can catch his breath, a second, a third... even more dark figures break through the sky.
The Flesh Monster throws punch after punch, continuously shattering the attacking shadows, also continuously retreating.
Looking unbearably stifled and furious, he stops retreating, stands his ground, and starts to emit unearthly growls in the direction of the incoming dark shadows.
Soon, on the Black Plain behind him, continuous, heavy footsteps resound.
A gargantuan Black Rock Giant, roughly dozens of meters high, appears on the plain.
This giant has no facial features, merely a crude head and limbs, completely comprised of large, hard black rocks, piece by piece, as if it just crawled out from the soil that had settled for uncountable years; in the crevices between the rocks, thick vines even intertwine and grow.
The Rock Giant’s arms, as if they were peaks, periodically swing, each time, small pieces of rock break off, then it fiercely throws them towards the dense blood clouds.
And with such brutish and crude attacking methods, like a petty farmer fighting, it manages to forcefully pressure the Flesh Monster controlling the blood clouds, causing it to frequently stamp its feet, emitting stifled and helpless roars.
It’s unimaginable, the terrifying and domineering power infused in each rock the Black Rock Giant throws.
On the shoulder of the Black Rock Giant, a young boy wearing an odd Magic Robe sits.