Burbujo of The Ship of Death

It was a rainy day. The stars were right and the Gods of Dominion were shining in our
heads. It was the day of the final sacrifice.
Millions of prisioners were in row waiting for their final. They were prisiones of Ak-
Shakl, the King of Nazca. They were waiting to give their life to him and his creation.
Ak-Shakl conquered South America starting with an army of two thousand men. Their
subdits said he could spoke with Demons. He created the ritual of Shakum, were the
souls of their sacrified victims became power to him.
It was a rainy day, were The Creation was to be made.
The sun arised from the horizon going throw the calibors of destruction. The sun... His
hated enemy. He walked through the satirs of the ziragut until he sat on the ceremonial
shair. He spoke:

-Let the ritual begin.

Then in the tables across the little valley sacerdots started to stab their knives in the
hearts of the victims.

A strange green energy started to flow to Ak-Shakl. His eyes turned white and he made
a strange face of pain.

The screams and blood fullfilled the valley.

----

It was ten thousand years after.

Ak-Shakl was sitting alone in the Ship of Death. The Stars were shining right.

He was a skull with no jag over a trapezoid biomechanich body.

The ship was the size of the solar system.

He was remebering, when he took the first ship. It was a saling ship. He terrifyed and
killed many nations. After he designed the Starship and made terror across the Universe.

He came back for one reason. The sun... His hated enemy.

But He knew he will never make it.

The enemy was infront of him. A Battle Angel, God of Thunder.

It was a rainy day, the satrs were right... when the battle begun.