The war stopped, not because the fighting ended, but because something far worse had arrived. The skies above Anbord darkened unnaturally, not with clouds, but with pressure. Space twisted violently as if reality itself was trying to flee from whatever was descending.
CRACK!
The heavens split open. A gigantic tear spread across the sky above the empire, stretching thousands of kilometers wide. Everything froze. Dragons stopped flying, soldiers halted mid-battle, and even the void creatures hidden deep beneath ruined lands went silent.
And from that fracture, Fafnir descended. The Dragon Emperor appeared in his humanoid form, floating high above Anbord like a god of ruin. His black armor gleamed with crimson veins of molten energy flowing through its surface like blood through living flesh. Every movement caused draconic inscriptions across the armor to ignite one after another.
