The amphitheater materialised in the space between spaces, where the fabric of reality grew thin enough for gods to gather without their combined presence tearing apart whatever realm hosted them. It was ancient beyond measure—older than the oldest pantheons, carved from crystallised time itself by beings whose names had been forgotten before the first star learned to burn.
Concentric rings of obsidian seats descended toward a central platform, each tier positioned to accommodate the different hierarchies of divine power. The highest seats, shrouded in mists that obscured their occupants from lesser eyes, housed the eldest gods—beings so ancient that their true forms would drive even immortals to madness. The lower tiers held the pantheon heads, their divine radiance carefully contained to prevent the amphitheater from becoming an uncontrolled fusion reaction.
