Lurid Nagamaal stood at the edge of the obsidian cliffs, his four clawed hands gripping the dark stone. Below him stretched the realm of Zaar, a vast kingdom ruled by his divine rival. He had waited centuries for this moment. His spiral-marked face turned toward the distant palace, where the throne he would claim waited. Today, he would announce his challenge. The realm needed to know that their ruler would face him in divine combat. Lurid reached into the folds of his black coat and pulled out a small bronze token. He pressed it between his claws and whispered ancient words. The token shattered. Within seconds, the ground trembled beneath him. A creature emerged from the cracked earth—massive, four-legged, covered in swirling patterns that seemed to move across its dark hide. The primordial messenger deity towered over Lurid, its breath hot and sulfuric. He spoke his challenge clearly, each word a command. The creature turned and bounded toward the capital, carrying his declaration to every corner of Zaar. No one could ignore what was coming. Lurid watched the messenger disappear into the distance. Beyond the palace, he could see the floating sphere of temples hanging in the sky, their mismatched structures pressed together in impossible angles. Soon those temples would fill with witnesses. They would watch him walk through the cosmic archway that led to the throne room. They would see him take what should have always been his.