I Can Assimilate Everything

Away from the budding Adrastia Continent.

An unknown thousands of miles away!

The waters of the Thalassphere Arx were not simply blue- they were living.

Currents of bioluminescent light traced elegant, spiraling paths around towering coral spires and crystalline domes that floated weightless in the abyss. The underwater cities here shimmered with layered citadels of translucent pearl and coralized stone, each structure crowned with streaming banners woven from kelp and ocean-thread. Great turtles the size of galleons drifted slowly between structures, carrying cargo and Atlantians alike on their carapaces, while schools of silver-scaled fish moved like liquid starlight around them.

And yet- beneath the beauty there was a a solemnity.

A stillness.

As if the ocean itself held its breath.

Atlana moved gracefully, the folds of her flowing aquamarine robes trailing behind her like liquid silk. Her hair, a blue and gold cascade, floated in the water, framing her regal face. Her eyes. once alight with laughter and power, now bore the deep pressure of knowledge she could not unsee.

Behind her trailed a retinue of armored guards, each bearing tridents and war-fans of coral and shell, their eyes cautious as they led her into the Grand Hall where the different Tribes were clustered.

It was a place of reverence, carved into the heart of an ancient, living coral mountain. The ceilings soared, and the bioluminescent murals along the walls told tales of ages long past- of battles won, of alliances forged, of betrayals buried.

At the far end of the hall, seated upon thrones carved from the oldest pearls, were the Tribe Kings and Queens of the Thalassphere Arx- figures older than memory, draped in ceremonial kelp-robes, their eyes sharp and ancient.

Atlana bowed.

Not by choice.

Her body obeyed the command of another- Achilles.

A woman among the Tribe Kings, her face a mask of serenity and iron, spoke.

"Princess Atlana," she said. "You departed under the light of glory as you return with news. Speak of the threat rising against us."

Atlana's voice- calm, melodic- answered without hesitation, though deep inside her, the tiniest flicker of terror coiled around her heart.

"A place called the Kingdom of Neon rises. It holds multiple human cities float above the sea of stars. The enemy should have obtained an extremely powerful treasure from gathering so many humans under him. We were not able to get too close without alerting him but…we did observe him decimate Luminblood Stage Astral Core Ascension entities with ease!"

She spoke of what Achilles instructed her to speak- truths interwoven with subtle omissions.

She did not mention that it wss no longer a Kingdom, she didn't mention that even a Celestbone Stage Astral Core Ascension entity had fallen under Achilles, or the Living Cataclysmic Star Weapons forged under the Sea of Thalassara.

She did not mention the dynasty's rapid growth.

She did not mention the spreading dominion of a force none could yet comprehend.

As she spoke, unseen to all, Achilles watched.

Through her.

His mind, vast and calm, sensed the faint thrum of fear in Atlana's heart, the hesitations she fought to bury.

And yet, she obeyed as she could not do anything else.

And in the golden aura of Achilles' mind, he felt her fear. Her urgency.

A single thought brushed through his mind.

She understands the stakes.

At the same time, another force moved as he willed it.

Invisible threads, finer than spider silk, unseen and unfelt even by the Tribe Kings and Queens ancient senses as he did not target them yet, and even in their invisible state, they would feel like atmospheric particles of Primordial Energy if found.

Draconian Spores.

Drifting on microcurrents.

Settling into the airways, into the robes, onto the skin of the Atlantin Commanders nearby and their guards- delicate tendrils anchoring themselves in silence.

It was conquest.

Silent.

Absolute.

Irrevocable.

A war waged without blood.

And the Atlantian Tribe Kings- for all their might, for all their wisdom- did not know it had already begun on those weaker than them.

Atlana finished speaking, her heart hammering.

She waited.

And the lead Atlantian Tribe King nodded slowly.

"You have done well, Princess Atlana," the woman said. "You will remain. Until the Sea Tribes decides how we shall proceed."

Atlana bowed again, hiding the storm in her chest.

But deep inside her mind- where Achilles' influence brushed against her soul- a single, chilling thought formed.

The day of conquest has already been decided.

---

Near the Thalassphere Arx.

Far above the smoldering lands of the Everburn Aerie, flames rose in towering pillars, painting the night sky in hues of ember and crimson.

The continent had many regions, and some were an endless series of volcanic isles- floating, drifting on tectonic plates of obsidian and molten stone. Rivers of fire flowed between cities sculpted from black glass and basalt, their spires crowned with eternally burning pyres. The air was thick with smoke and power, the heat oppressive enough to make weaker beings combust.

But Libya, an Ancient Millennium Acheron Phoenix, flew untroubled.

Her massive wings of crimson flame beat slow, measured strokes against the thermal currents. Beneath her, a city of phoenixes knownas Erythraean Pyra shimmered in the heat a metropolis of flame, a stronghold of the Phoenix Clans that wasn't too far from the central region of power.

At the center of Everburn Aerie stood the Throne of Ashen Echoes, where the twin sovereigns reigned- Azuryan the Verdant Flame and Solmyron the Golden Pyre.

She now answered to both as this land was used for that.

As she descended, a welcoming party awaited- flame-cloaked figures of authority, adorned in armor of volcanic rock and plumes of burning feathers.

At their head stood many members of the Assembly, their gazes piercing, their bodies exuding the ancient, smoldering aura of Phoenixes who had endured the endless turning of the sun.

Libya bowed her head slightly, the embers from her wings scattering like dying stars.

One of the Astral Core Ascension Phoenixes stepped forward, his voice a low rumble as hellish flames danced around him.

"Libya…what have you seen?"

She spoke not with words, but with thought. Telepathic, resonant, majestic.

"A force unlike any that now walks these lands. A power old and new, clothed in forms unseen before our Long Slumber. He calls himself Emperor King Achilles. And he raised landmasses to the skies as of he seeks to imitate our glorious continents! A mere imitator, but he has power!"

They listened, weighing her words.

They asked questions, prodding, cautious.

Libya answered as instructed.

Only what Achilles allowed.

Only what would keep them blind for now.

And all the while…

Spores.

Unseen, unfelt.

Drifting on the thermal updrafts.

Embedding in feathers, settling upon scales pf weaker Phoenixes as Achilles did not target the strongest ones yet out of caution of being discovered too early.

Quiet. Patient.

Irrevocable.

And above, hidden by the black smoke of the volcanic night, Achilles watched.

Through her.

Through the ancient creature he now controlled.

The Phoenix Clans, proud and mighty, they did not know their extinction had already begun.

He felt Libya's sorrow.

Felt the urgency burning in her soul like a second sun.

Achilles' mind, vast and cold, understood.

Good, he thought.

She, too, understands.

As Libya finished, thr Phoenixes murmured amongst themselves.

Far away, in the Sea of Thalassara, Achilles Adrastia Maxwell lifted his hammer once more, finishing the forging not just weapons.

But history!