I Can Assimilate Everything

Thousands of miles away...

Above clouds saturated with Primordial radiance, a colossal golden vessel soared silently through the skies.

It was shaped like a radiant sun, its form constantly aflame with tendrils of Primordial Energy.

Celestial rings pulsed along its perimeter like the rhythmic breath of a living star, illuminating the skies below in eternal daylight.

This was not merely a ship.

It was akin to a throne of the skies!

Its surface was paved in molten gold and obsidian crystal, runes of Living Script crawling across its hull gloriously.

Though whether they were at the level of the ones a certain Adrastia Emperor King could design…was a different matter.

Great plumes of golden fire trailed behind it from sheer willpower and purpose.

And within this radiant colossus stood forces of grand origin.

The Myrrnith Dynasty Throne and the Drakorith Dynasty Throne.

Clarana, she of sea-blue hair and deep sapphire eyes, stood poised like a song woven from the sea itself.

Power rippled beneath her pale skin as if all things around her were merely projections upon the weaving of her will.

Her Astral Core glowed within her chest like a crystallized sun, her Celestbone humanoid skeleton lit from within with serene constellations.

Beside her, Leonidas, the Drakorith Throne, was a stark contrast.

Dark-haired. Broad-shouldered. Silent and unrelenting.

He spoke little. But when he did, the surroundings shifted to obey.

His steps left behind faint burns upon the floor of the radiant vessel, his Celestbone frame pulsing with molten starlight.

They stood side by side upon the highest balcony of the golden sun-vessel, gazing down at the swirling clouds below.

Around them within this vessel pulsed the combined Auras of a few hundred Humans and Ancient Ones.

The Humans wore their Dynasty marks with pride, banners of Myrrnith and Drakorith flowing behind them like wings of light.

But the Ancient Ones... were far grander.

The Ancient Royal Panthera.

Beasts born of tyranny and power, their forms towered over even the mightiest humans.

Regal lions with molten-gold manes, wings formed of shimmering starlight, and voices that carried the echoes of Judgment itself.

This was the Golden Pride of Aeonthar.

One of the Nine Supreme Forces that had endured since the Long Slumber.

A Force that commanded reverence, and more often, fear!

"Prophecy" Clarana said quietly, her voice calm and clear, speaking into the windless sky. "The prophecy… the vision the honored Lord of the Panthera shared. Of a being who walks in innovation, but leaves plagues. Whose creations turn minds to beasts…"

She turned to Leonidas, her sapphire gaze unwavering.

"Do you believe it could be him? The one we are receiving information about who is going colony city to colony city? If it is… and if the time comes- will you move to kill him?"

The air stilled.

The question lingered like a drawn blade.

Leonidas did not answer right away.

He looked forward.

And then, simply said.

"…We will do what needs to be done."

WAA!

He raised his hand.

Before them, like three titans etched from the spine of the Plane, three mountains appeared upon the horizon.

Not distant.

Not faint.

Colossal. Imposing. Near.

The Triarcan Dynasty Keeper Mountains.

Auremount. Veyrspire. Duskaran.

Each towered into the skies in a perfect equilateral triangle, their icy ridges and crystalline peaks enclosing the sacred cradle of the Plane,

The Triarcan Keep.

Forged from blackstone and Evolutius Crystal, the Keep was a citadel of legends. Its walls stood tall like unsheathed blades, casting shadows that whispered the memory of wars long past.

Its ceiling was open- a wound in the skies where starlight poured down without end, blessing the sacred space within.

This was where Thirteen Dynasties once bent their knees in a pact forged in the ashes of nuclear fire.

This was where peace had been bought through blood.

This was where the future of the world would be weighed once again.

The golden sun-vessel did not slow as it approached the center of the three sacred mountains.

Rather, it blazed even brighter.

The Royal Panthera stood poised behind Clarana and Leonidas, their golden wings stretched in ceremony.

Even without roaring, their presence filled the Keep with pressure.

Order had arrived.

Whether others would accept it or not!

—

Elsewhere in the skies above the Triarcan Mountains…

Another vessel unlike any other descended from the obsidian dusk, cutting across the skies.

It did not shine with golden brilliance like the sun-forged vessel of Aeonthar's Pride.

No, this one shimmered with lunar gravitas- a colossal crescent-shaped ark carved from silverslate obsidian, its hull laced with glowing moondust veins that pulsed with radiance.

The Half-Lunar Vessel of Lunaris.

Upon its curved edge, towering crescent blades of polished crystal arched like fangs, humming with condensed Primordial resonance. Glowing runic sigils rotated across its surface in hypnotic rhythm, each whispering of control, of dominion, of perfected rule.

And at the very heart of its open deck stood a man who embodied all of this and more.

The Lunaris Throne.

His tall frame was robed in an asymmetrical mantle woven from midnight velvet and reflective threads that mimicked the stars. His skin glistened with Celestbone brilliance, silver luminescence emanating from the bones beneath his flesh.

His hair was dark silver, flowing to his back like falling starlight. And his eyes…

His eyes were silver furnaces, twin orbs of burning ambition that saw only conquest and design.

He did not speak immediately.

Instead, he gazed downward toward the distant golden sun vessel carrying the mighty Golden Pride of Aeonthar, and the Dynasties who groveled under its shadow.

Drakorith. Myrrnith. Careful names he knew very well. Calculating names.

His lips curled.

He was surrounded by three other Astral Core Ascension entities, each clad in dense silverspun armor etched with lunar insignias. Silent. Powerful.

And behind them stood a regiment of Dharma Kings, elite Judges bearing the silver crescent of Lunaris upon their chests.

They were Judges like Zerrion Draal, who once rules gloriously!

But Draal was dead.

Killed.

Archaon's smile tightened as the thought passed through his mind, his sharp features becoming colder, more glacial.

"I wonder..." His voice was soft, but it cut through the void like steel silk. "...if my dear daughter and that little despot who illegally declared my Colony of Neon as his own would even know about a place like this."

…!

"You torture you daughter just a few times to make her stronger, and she thanks you by plotting against you? What has this world come to now…?"

He shook his head with a smile.

He stepped forward, his boots ringing softly on the polished lunar crystal beneath him. The crescent vessel slowly arced downward toward the gathering mountains.

"It would've been fun," He mused aloud, his smile turning brutal, more beast than man, more Tyrant than King. "To see their expressions had they actually come to this place."

He didn't expect them to. Not really.

But part of him wanted them to.

He raised a single, gloved hand and waved calmly to his people, motioning toward the distant shapes of the Myrrnith and Drakorith Dynasties gathered below.

"Go," he commanded coldly. "Let us take our place besides them. No harm in using the powerful as shields…"