"Nyx," Noah said quietly. "Ascend."
Reality tore. A vertical slash of purple-black void energy splitting the air like someone had cut the world with a knife. The wound spread, edges crackling with power, and red mist began pouring from the opening. Thick. Hot. Wrong.
Then came the roar.
It wasn't sound so much as pressure, a noise that traveled through bone and organs before reaching ears. The ground trembled. Wreckage shifted. Every Harbinger on the battlefield turned toward the portal, recognizing threat before they could even see what was coming.
Nyx emerged like a small mountain deciding it was tired of being stationary. Thirty feet of scaled death, red armor catching light and throwing it back wrong. His golden eyes locked onto the Harbingers with intelligence that carried absolute hatred. Heat radiated from his form, making the air shimmer, turning breath to visible steam.
