The Lightbringer cut off the eye beams, having completed his little bout of amusement. The smell of burnt flesh drifted into his nose, a familiar smell that reminded him of disposing of the bodies after the human sacrifices he carried out in his old cult.

Perhaps he should start those up again. He certainly did have plenty of cattle to choose from. It would be useful for inspiring more loyalty, and taking care of a few irritating members all at the same time.

Astra's screams had grown silent, her breathing shallow as her body still occasionally twitched and flinched with pain.

Letting out a soft sigh, he leaned down and wrapped his hand around her throat, cutting off her air supply. The soft sounds of her desperately trying to breath brought a sadistic smile to his face. Maybe getting his hands dirty every now and then wasn't so bad after all.

"What did you expect going up against me? You are nothing. You call yourself a god, but you don't have what it takes to be one. I was at least expecting a challenge, but all I got was you.

After all the things I've heard about the great 'Storm Goddess'. Honestly... I'm disappointed. Never send a mortal to do a gods work."

All of a sudden, in the middle of his favourite movement, the air around him quickly grew deathly cold. So much that he could see his breath curling in the air in front of him.

The black clouds above him seemed to grow darker, as did all the shadows cast by his brilliant light. Beneath him, the desperate whimpers and struggles for breath stopped, replaced by another sound.

Laughing. The Storm Goddess was laughing, amusement twinkling in her eyes and a smile plastered across her face, despite the fact she was having the last dregs of life choked out of her.

Lightbringer's brow creased into a deep frown at the laughter, a mixture of confusion with the slightest hint of fear evidence on his face as his grip around her throat loosened, allowing air into into her lungs and for her laughter to grow louder.

However, the feeling that sent a shiver down the Lightbringers spine was not the chilling air, nor the insane laughter of the woman below him, but the shifting of the Divine Energy that lingered in the air.

The fear in his eyes grew as he slowly stood up straight, his head craning towards a singular point in the distance where the air was the coldest, and where the Divine Energy that should have been his and his alone, was starting to converge.

In the very centre of that swirling vortex of energy, was a singular bead of black blood hovering in the air.

His eyes were glued to that globule, while below him he heard the rasping and strained voice of Astra speak with a condescending and amused tone.

"You wanted a God? You got one. Meet my boyfriend, the Lord of the Dead."

The air grew deathly still as the globule hovered in the air, its ink black surface rippling gently as a chilling air spread out from it.

Across the battle field, all of the cold corpses began to stir. The violent clattering of their armour broke the deafening silence as they spasmed and writhed on the ground. All of them, no matter their allegiance in life, started to rise to their feet.

The empty suits of armour that had been destroyed by the Lightbringer started to writhe as well, pulling themselves together. Leaving what was broken and destroyed on the ground and simply repurposed their companions functional parts.

Their numbers were reduced, and what rose from the ground were Frankensteinian suits of mismatched armour.

Living dead and puppets alike all stood to attention, sending chills down the spines of the living that were surrounded by them. One unfortunate soul was so terrified by the sight of an enemy rising again in front of him, the sword still buried in the dead man's chest, that he stumbled back and fell to the ground in fear. Landing with a gentle splash.

Confused at the sound, and at the ice cold feeling moving over his hands, the terrified man looked down with trembling eyes and let out a shrill shriek at what he was sitting in. Flowing around and over him, was a river of blood.

One of many.

Blood flowed from the standing corpses. It poured from their open wounds, overflowed from silently wailing mouths and streamed from their lifeless, clouded eyes like crimson tears.

These scarlet water falls hit the ground and formed thousands of red rivers that flowed throughout the battlefield, connecting with one another until they all gathered into a singular crimson lake of blood underneath the black globule.

The lake stirred, flowing upwards like a reverse whirlpool, as it swirled around the black globule and started to flow into it. The globule pulsated, growing in size, while the crimson blood that touched it rapidly grew black, the shade of night creeping across the lake like a plague until there was nothing left but viscous black blood.

The black globule, which had grown to dozens of times its original size, started to shift and warp as the ball of black blood started to compress and alter its shape. Gaining arms and legs, as well as a head, as it started to take on a human appearance.

Pale skin, like that of the many corpses surrounding the emerging figure, grew out of the figure out blood and wrapped around it like the bandages of a mummy.

The details of a body were brought into being, especially around the face. A mouth and a nose were grown from the skin wraps. But before anyone could get a good look at the face that was developing, the hook of a cloak wove itself from shadows and shrouded the face in darkness.

More shadows rose from the ground, wrapping around the floating nude body and weaving themselves into a set of midnight black armour, that immediately hardened and became shining steel.

The only part of the body that did not gain any skin was the right arm, which stayed completely formed of black blood, but was shrouded in the armour before anyone could notice. Not that they were paying attention to such details in a moment like this.

A cloak of wispy, smoke-like shadows poured forth from the base of the simple cloth hood. It poured down from the floating figure like a blanket, easily reaching the ground and spreading outwards for dozens of metres.

With the appearance of the cloak, the manifestation of the figure was complete and, all at once, the awaiting army of corpses and empty armour slammed their hands against their chest in salute. All of them moved in such perfect sync, that the hundreds of hands slamming in salute sounded like one singular clap of thunder, before the army dropped to one knee in greeting to their king.

"Lightbringer. Your fight... is with me."

The voice that emerged from beneath the hood sounded like little more than a whisper, and it was a whisper that sounded like it came from directly next to every single person there. A whisper directly into their ear and which turned the blood in their veins to ice.

The Lightbringers cocky and smug expression had been banished to the shadow realm, being rapidly replaced by a look of abject horror and blood curdling terror. He tried to stagger backwards, only for one of his legs to get stuck in place.

Whipping his head down, he found the half dead Storm Goddess holding his leg tight, stopping it from moving. A sinister, sadistic smile graced her lips, which were red with the fresh mouthful of blood she coughed up. Yet even still, she smiled.

She couldn't help it, with the horrified look on this smug assholes face. It was an expression made to be enjoyed. Astra just hoped she lived long enough to see that face beaten to a pulp.

In any other situation, the Lightbringer would simply burn a hole through her head or blast her into a million pieces for daring to touch him without permission. But there were more pressing things on his mind.

Mainly the shadowy figure who had appeared out of nowhere, and seemed to be able to channel and weave Divine energy. It was that point that shook him to his very core and caused him to tremble in fear as he stared at the hovering, malevolent form of Lord Corvus, Ruler of the Dead.

'It's not possible, It can't be possible. How?! How can he do that?! It's supposed to be mine! Mine alone! I am supposed to be the only god of this miserable world, that is why I was chosen by that woman!

He... He can't do this! What... What else can he do?!'

A thousand different scenarios raced through the Lightbringers panicked head as he stared at the floating figure as if it was the most terrifying sight in the world. And he was not alone in that stare, as many eyes were on the new challenger to the battle.

With all of these eyes on him, some in fear, some in awe and some feeling a mixture of both, it was understandable that none, not even the great Lightbringer, noticed the singular figure in pure white robes moving through the crowds, doing his best to stay unnoticed despite his unfortunate outfit choice.