The momentum became an unstoppable tide. In the eastern quarter, a Shadeveil unit, mid stride as they cleared the wreckage of a fallen spire, froze.
They turned as one, their dark forms silhouetted against the amber light, and their voices rose in a synchronized, haunting unison: "ALL HAIL LORD XEROLLION!"
Near the secondary gate, the Voidkin beings who felt the shifting of the cosmos in their very bones stood tall, their ethereal forms pulsing in rhythm with the growing tide. They didn't just cheer; they offered a primal, guttural acknowledgment of a superior predator.
"ALL HAIL LORD XEROLLION!"
The militia, the men and women who had spent the night bleeding under Pavellia's iron command, felt the shift in the air. They weren't just following a leader anymore; they were witnessing the ascension of a sovereign.
They stepped forward, shields raised, their voices a thunderous, collective roar that shook the very foundations of the Underlayer.
"ALL HAIL LORD XEROLLION!"
