Sepulchral Nocturne/Atmosphere of Death
Fear twists the land, bends the flesh, and commands the will of all who dare draw breath. The world does not move by justice, by faith, or by strength—it moves by terror.
Those who wield fear rule. Those who cannot, serve. And those who resist are consumed, their screams feeding the endless cycle. Truth itself rots beneath its weight; memories fracture, reality distorts, and even the mind becomes a battlefield where terror gnaws at sanity.
The weak perish, the powerfull strive for self preservation. Sects, cosmic horrors, powerfull beings all battle in this last realm of insanity