The first Demon God emerged from the shadows, crowned with jagged obsidian that seemed to pierce the very fabric of reality.
His skeletal wings stretched wide, dripping with corrosive darkness that devoured all traces of light.
The air around him twisted and groaned under the weight of his presence, as though the universe itself recoiled in fear.
With a mere whisper, he had the power to reduce entire planets to lifeless dust, and he had done so without hesitation.
Entire civilizations had crumbled in his wake, their ashes scattering across the cold void of space like forgotten memories.
Yet long before he became the harbinger of destruction, he had been a mere boy, frail, vulnerable, and unknown to the power that would one day consume him.
Thousands of years ago, he was born into poverty, his name lost to time, remembered only by those who once loved him.
He had been a sickly child, his body weak and frail, leaving him unable to join his peers in their training.
