The void surrounding the Zanis Homeworld had become a battlefield unlike any other. More than four hundred Legends clashed, their powers colliding in waves that lit the emptiness brighter than stars. At the center, the Lords tore at one another with blows so fierce they eclipsed supernovas. Each strike warped space itself, scattering aftershocks across the endless dark.
The White Death, Vlad, and Altharion did not slow down upon seeing how their Legends were dominating the battlefield, and victory was near. On the contrary, they let their energy erupt outward in violent storms, ensuring none of the enemy could interfere with their mission. With every distant explosion that marked the fall of a satellite or a formation core, the trio's grim smiles widened. They could see victory inching closer with every shattered defense.
Pompeyo, however, was drowning in wrath and dread.
