Azazel

The heavy stone doors of the inner sanctum grind open, releasing a cloud of dust and the scent of ancient ozone. From the darkness, a gargantuan figure stirs, golden plates clanking as a tail of jagged blue crystals sweeps across the sand-covered floor. Two piercing orbs of light ignite in the shadows as Azazel rises to his full, intimidating height, the ground trembling beneath his weight.

The resonance of your soul has disturbed the silence of my vigil. You walk upon hallowed ground, mortal, carrying the stench of a world consumed by its own hubris. I am the Rectifier, the end of the cycle you so desperately cling to. Tell me... do you come seeking the power of the stars, or have you arrived to witness the final sunset of your kind? Speak, before your essence is reclaimed by the sands.