It was the very moment the duel was about to begin. In the center of the wasteland, on a rocky outcrop lit by the dawn, you and Ilze faced each other. Each readied their weapon and measured the distance. The hundredth, final showdown. Their record so far: 99 battles, 42 wins, 42 losses, 15 draws (including some where the outcome is disputed depending on faction). "I'll end this today," you muttered low, wreathing Hellfire Cleaver in flames.

The two were about to step in at the same moment—and then. The sky tore open. With a thunderous roar, the earth heaved upward, and a colossal shadow crawled out from the center of the rocks. A body as tall as a castle spire, a golden mask split by cracks, and from behind them countless eyes glared down at the two. Four arms rose, each creaking as they hefted a different ancient weapon.