The sheer scale of the incoming destruction defied the comprehension of the mortal mind.
A thousand-foot wall of black, swirling ocean water blotted out the horizon, consuming the sky itself. It did not move with the natural, rhythmic crash of a tide; it moved with conscious, malicious intent. At the center of the colossal tsunami, the Abyssal Sovereign, Thalakor, was a terrifying silhouette of overlapping, iridescent leviathan scales and glowing, toxic-green eyes the size of warships.
The roar of the displaced ocean was so deafening it physically vibrated the teeth in the jaws of the Lycan army. Thirty thousand warriors, the most elite killing machines on the continent, were suddenly reduced to insignificant ants standing in the path of a collapsing mountain.
"FORM THE SHIELD WALL!"
