Korgar stood before the altar, his eyes looking complicated, flickering with a mixture of profound grief, desperation, and a burgeoning, madness-tinged resolve.
The structure was a jagged monolith of obsidian and bone, pulsating with a rhythmic, sickening violet light that seemed to drink the very shadows of the camp.
This is the ritual provided by that human Tang Shan, which would allow him to forcefully breakthrough to the legendary Saint Realm, at the cost of the lives of millions of his tribesmen.
Korgar looked at his hands, massive and scarred, then turned his gaze back to the sea of red-skinned warriors who had followed him across the burning wastes of the Wilderness in search of a home.
He stared at the dwindling numbers of his tribe, saw their broken formations and the way they were being harvested by the Central Region geniuses, and he gritted his teeth until they bled.
