A rogue wave of screaming bodies all running in terror, followed by a second wave of gnashed and gnarled ones, crawling and clawing, desperate… chased by a third of -what he could only transmute into thought as- daemons, raging from the cataclysm that set them forth… A single beam of light that pierces the night, draws the atmosphere into an endless array of implosions from behind a being… grand, black against the sheer power of his destructive will.
The beholder of which doesn’t move from his spot as violent winds, beasts, and sounds fight to overwhelm him… Knowing he has no other choice as the being comes ever closer, he throws his useless sword to the earth and clenches his fist, its now or never. Flesh and blood- humanity itself rips back from what he is beneath- revealing a reverberating evolution of pure light. He charges, alone.