Dark clouds swirled unnaturally over the Outlands.
The land of war-born races—home to orcs, goblins, and trolls—was now eerily still. Blood and ash hung in the air. Black lightning occasionally cracked across the distant skies, though no thunder followed.
Endless stood atop the highest ridge on the jagged cliff that overlooked the heart of the Outlands. Beside him stood Kael Dragonyx, still cloaked in silence, his face solemn yet wary. Flanking them in reverence and anticipation were the Chaos Twins, Aron and Selene, their crimson eyes shimmering with a feverish gleam.
Behind them, a new army of enslaved orcs and goblins knelt across the rocky terrain, shackled not by chains but by fear—of what they had witnessed Endless do, and of what he was about to unleash.
The Dragonyx Heirloom floated above Endless's palm, spinning slowly. Its intricate etchings glowed with a dark red light, and a low hum vibrated across the air like a slumbering beast on the verge of waking.
