The rot.
Decay, putrescence, putrefaction, corrosion, necrosis, what which is decomposed, which is spoiled, which festers with countless, unknown ailments… It was also ruins, the degeneration of what which was once great, of things that once stood tall and strong, but has now deteriorated to an unrecognisable state, utter decline, pure corruption.
Like a malignant disease, it spreads, transforming all that it touches into something new, something awful, something destructive.
Indeed, rot is–Should be– The personification of destruction itself, and yet, its greatest, primeval form, wielded by the only one qualified to even touch it, was capable of the total opposite, creation.
The stone beneath shattered and collapsed under the weight of creation, the latter kept on expanding, no matter how many times attacks of indescribable power, each imbued with an energy that was anathema to anything opposing it, it simply kept on growing to impossible proportions.
