The wind stills, and the sky darkened suddenly, as if the sun itself had turned its gaze from the world in fearful reverence. Thick storm clouds, black as pitch, rolled forth in an instant, swallowing the daylight whole and plunging everything into shadow. An eerie silence hung heavily, broken only by distant rumbles of thunder; nature itself seemed to pause in anticipation.

Then, without warning, the clouds parted sharply, as though split by a blade of brilliant gold. A single column of radiant, divine light cascaded down from the heavens, illuminating the ground below with dazzling clarity. Within this holy radiance, a figure slowly descended, poised gracefully in midair, arms spread in regal, arrogant welcome.

His voice rings out, not spoken, but proclaimed, echoed by the very heavens themselves,

"Behold, I am justice given form. I am the world. I am the light that purges sin, the blade that cuts through corruption. Venerate me. Give praise unto me. Me, the sublime, the beautiful. Me, the invincible. I am..."

He hovers, his eyes aglow with contempt.

"Zamasu."