DEATH MONARCH
The city loomed in shambles, a smog of death hanging over it like a thick shroud, curling through shattered alleyways and creeping up crumbling walls.
The air was heavy with decay, each breath pulling in the rotten stench of the battlefield.
And then, in the heart of this carnage, it emerged—a towering figure that seemed to crawl up from the deepest pits of some forsaken abyss.
Its skin was a diseased shade of green, stretched taut over its grotesque form, mottled with dark, oily patches of rot that oozed a sickly black ichor.
This monstrous undead stood impossibly tall, casting a massive, warped shadow over the surrounding ruins.
Its limbs were twisted and unnaturally elongated, ending in skeletal, clawed fingers that scraped and gouged at the earth with each heavy step.