A gentle cough shattered the battlefield's chaos like thunder breaking glass. The sound itself was soft, almost polite, yet it carried enough power to make the very air freeze in terror.
"I apologize for my late arrival."
The voice wasn't particularly loud, yet it seemed to swallow all other sounds on the battlefield. The very air grew heavy with ancient power, and flames—normal and spiritual alike—began to flicker and dim, as if bowing in reverence to a greater fire.
Through the growing haze, a figure materialized. He appeared deceptively ordinary: a scholarly man in simple red robes that seemed to shift like living flame. But there was something fundamentally wrong about his presence, as if reality itself struggled to contain whatever force wore this human shape.