The Might of the First Born

The writhing, grotesque mass of the Rakshasa abomination slithered toward the Beyond, its sickening body undulating like a nightmare come to life. Its shape was an affront to nature itself—an endless maw of gnashing teeth ringed by grotesque, pulsating limbs that terminated in fleshy suction cups. As it moved, the air around it grew thick with the sickly fog the Rakshasa fed on, darkening the skies with the palpable weight of destruction.

The creature was an enormous, star-eating entity of living flesh that dwarfed even planets. Each pore on its foul body exhaled the poisonous Rakshasa fog, a gas that thickened the very air of the battlefield, infecting all who were unfortunate enough to breathe it. For the cultivators below, each breath felt like swallowing molten lead.

And yet, despite its monstrous size and terrifying presence, it was still advancing. Every strike from the Suns was dissipating upon impact, barely slowing its relentless march.