World Eater

The fiend grew larger and more monstrous as it drew nearer, its sheer size eclipsing the heavens and casting a pall over the battlefield. A grotesque behemoth, it was covered in slick, sickly flesh that seemed to pulse and writhe with a life of its own. The cultivators, already battered and bloodied from the relentless assault of the Rakshasa, stared up at the oncoming horror with a mixture of awe and despair.

Victory felt like a distant dream now, a cruel illusion that had been dangled before them only to be snatched away. Every ounce of blood and sweat they had poured into this fight had been in vain. The Rakshasa had played them, their entire force acting as a mere distraction while this abomination made its way to them. They hadn't been fighting to win; they had been fighting to survive until now.