Shock and horror rippled through the ranks of the Imperium of Time as they witnessed the brutal savagery of the Scarlet King. Yet these were not fledgling soldiers but warriors forged in millions of years of war. Their wills tempered by endless conflict, and from which they rose to the highest level of this world. Their instincts seized upon even the faintest opening.
Two titans of brute power moved first. Polo and Gilgamesh, each wielding axes vast enough to split continents, hurled themselves forward. Their strikes did not rise from loyalty to the Imperium of Time, but from something far older and sharper: fear. Fear of the Scarlet King. Fear of a being who stood above the gods.
Together, they poured their life force into a single attack, their axes whistling through the sky with enough force to cleave the firmament. The sea boiled beneath the weight of their swings.
