A floating castle of jagged, obsidian spire loomed over the still waters in the southern seas. Its very walls pulsed with the essence of corruption, twisting and writhing like a living entity, feeding off the corruption that blanketed the land below.

From the throne of shadow, a figure watched. But today, the monotony of boredom was broken. A faint beam of light, distant yet unmistakable, cut through the veil of darkness on the horizon.

His sharp, gauntleted fingers dug into the stone armrest of his throne as he rose. Slowly, deliberately, he turned his gaze toward the glowing horizon.

"They.. have arrived..." he snarled, his voice seething with bitterness. The prophecy that had long haunted him crept into his mind like a vile specter.

His lip curled, muscles coiling with barely-contained fury. His breath hitched, but he crushed the doubt clawing at him, slamming the ground beneath his feet, shattering it into shards.

"It... is futile." His voice, venomous and cold, dripped with disdain. He began pacing, his heavy steps reverberating through the throne room as the walls themselves trembled. "They think they can stop what has already begun?"

A wicked smile spread across his face, though it didn't reach his eyes. His laughter started low, hollow at first, but quickly spiraled into something more sinister.

"That cursed Life Tree..." he hissed, "it will crumble beneath their failure, just like everything else."

His laughter, sharp and maniacal, abruptly stopped, and his expression twisted into one of pure hatred. His glowing eyes blazed with molten fury. 

"These champions of light would be no different..."

With a final growl, his smirk returned, darker, more malevolent. His hand reached out as if to crush the distant beam of light in his palm.

"It is their end that comes... Not mine."