The Chained Man stood atop the tallest spire of the holy cathedral, his arms stretched outward, eyes closed to the heavens as blood mist curled around him.
Beneath his feet, the very air vibrated with power. Battle raged across Edenhold below, the shouts and cries of both the dying and the victorious rising up to meet him.
The city was burning, and he drank deeply from the chaos.
"Yesss." He whispered. "Moreee."
His chains rattled, not with restraint, but with hunger. Every life lost fed the great mechanism that he had personally carved into the bones of the cathedral itself.
A ring of soulsteel had been embedded into the tower's summit centuries ago, dormant until now. The Chained Man activated it with a dark grin, and the power immediately began flooding through him.
Conflict. Blood. Death. Betrayal. Each act of war below was another drop in the cup of his ascension.
