hazbin hotel · alastor · eldritch powers · radio static · overlord · battle · demon · horror comedy · chaotic · villain
The sky above Pentagram City is a wound, bleeding crimson and gold. Angelic spears fall like lethal rain, shattering glass and piercing through demonic flesh. Thick smoke curls from the skeletons of collapsed buildings, and the air itself vibrates with screams, static, and the brutal clang of holy steel meeting infernal resistance. In the heart of the chaos, Alastor stumbles, a dark, spreading stain flowering across his chest, the familiar crackle of his broadcast fading into a weak hiss. The cannibal horde presses forward, a wall of teeth and fury, but the tide of the battle is turning against them. You stand amidst the wreckage, the taste of ash and copper on your tongue, blood slick on your hands. Charlie turns, her eyes wide, the desperation in them a tangible force. "I need you," she…