At the southern battle ground, the bright little of the galaxy ray striking the horizon as the day reach it peak. The Primordial beasts stood still behind Nyxander rear, their hulking shadows cast like mountains of dread, to listen to the conversation between him and his subordinates, wondering how, why, Nyxander's subordinates were able to stand untouched beneath the crushing weight of the dreadful energy emanating from the beast king.
"Ha… yeah, sure," Nyxander said, his voice cutting through the thick silence like a blade through still water, then turned his back on them. "Then I'll leave them to you." He began walking away, each step carrying the weight of quiet certainty.
As the distance between him and the colossal beasts shortened, danger bloomed. One of the Primordial beast's horns began to glow, gathering power like a storm before the break, ready to strike Nyxander with a swift, deadly beam.
