Bearer of the Ultimate Sin

The humid air was thick, a venomous shroud. The hero stood alone yet fiercely

proud. Against the black embodiment of hate and of sin. A nightmare made

flesh where the true war could begin. The shadow tyrant's presence was cold

and intense. The sum of all malice without recompense. A tempest of

black blood, a horrifying sight, where a thousand dark lies devoured the light.

Each claw was pure torment, each tooth was a lie, and the hero

knew well that this evil must die. But the shade in his marrow,

a cold hungry gleam, echoed the tyrant's voice in a terrifying dream.