Alan stood at the very front of the battle line, a massive shield in hand. His sharp gaze swept across the surroundings as he constantly monitored the state of the battlefield.
He had thought this conquest would end smoothly.
But at that moment, the atmosphere between heaven and earth suddenly became suffocatingly oppressive.
A terrifying aura, far colder and more domineering than Azmodan's, and even stronger than the projection of the Demon Progenitor, swept forth from the abyssal passage at the edge of the sky.
Black clouds churned. The world lost its color.
Violent winds howled, rolling broken stones across the ground. Every player locked in battle unconsciously froze in place, their hearts wrapped in a fear that seemed to come from the depths of their souls.
"What terrifying pressure!"
Alan's expression hardened. Every muscle in his body tensed as his pupils locked firmly onto the abyssal passage.
