I Can Assimilate Everything

And from the eastern skies…

The clouds parted like a reverent curtain, swept aside by the silent, roiling presence of a force older than the foundations of the Dynasties themselves.

They came in clouds of opal light and emerald thunder, each ripple of power cascading across the skies!

One hundred and one entities floated silently atop…moving green clouds!

They were…

The Esteemed High Elves.

They were resplendent. Terrifying. Beautiful.

Garbed in silken robes that shimmered like dew-struck moonlight and armor etched with the fractal scripts of Authority, their eyes pulsed with the weight of eons as though each had seen the rise and fall of civilizations and grown bored of both!

At their helm floated a being who seemed carved from living starlight.

Her name was known by many begore the Long Slumber- one of the leaders of the Nine Supreme Forces.

Queen Valyndore.

A Neuronova Stage Astral Core Ascension entity, well, currently anyways.

Her beauty was ethereal, unreachable, as though she were more memory than flesh.

Her emerald hair flowed like a river of leaves caught in a solar breeze. Her skin shimmered with luminescent runes, and her eyes... her eyes were endless, twin pools of jade-azure fire.

Trailing behind her…

10 Celestbone Stage Astral Core Ascension High Elves, their bodies resonating with harmonized starlight.

30 Luminblood Stage High Elves.

60 Dharma Kings, each High Elf Judge bearing the sigil of their force carved into their foreheads like a birthright.

And behind them all floated a glowing sigil of their Supreme Force…

[The Aeonic Bloom of Vaelenthar.]

Among the Nine Supreme Forces that survived the Long Slumber and Collapse, the Aeonic Bloom of Vaelenthar was feared for its ruthlessness and envied for its grace.

They ruled once over the Mountains of Eternal Spring, a lush domain of living constructs, timeless forests, and gardens where time slowed and Planar Destiny flourished with abundance.

It was said that their mastery of Primordial Energy and Aeonic Botany allowed them to harvest the plane itselt.

But now, with the Slumber ended…many things had changed.

Queen Valyndore's voice broke the silence like a gentle knife.

Cold. Clear. Commanding.

"Do you all know why we are here today?" Her tone was level, and she did not look back as her eyes remained locked upon the horizon, specifically upon the sun-forged vessel that carried the Golden Pride of Aeonthar.

"Yes, Queen!" echoed all behind her.

She nodded once.

Her gaze was ancient and burdened with remembered glory.

"We are here," she said, "to ensure that the Planar Destiny we enjoyed for countless Ages… does not slip past our fingers again."

She lifted her hand, and a blossom of living starlight bloomed in her palm, pulsing once before vanishing into motes of gold.

"And we will do anything to ensure it."

And with that vow, the skies darkened further behind them as the Esteemed High Elves of Vaelenthar descended in silence, another Supreme Force arriving for the Triarcan Keep.

And even with that arrival, in the far distance, the skies trembled as even more came through.

It was bound to be a chaotic affair!

The entrants this time were unique.

They came not in vessels… but as vessels.

Draconic leviathans that swam through the skies like small celestial continents were the Mythical Ancient Dragons, scaled in starlight and wrapped in veils of ancient power.

Their wings were stellar, their eyes burning with majesty.

Each breath they exhaled crackled with flames, as if their lungs still remembered their grandeur.

And at their front, two sovereign titans glided side by side.

One, a radiant male dragon, whose scales shimmered like compressed suns- Gold upon gold, each one an Aeonic Shell hardened by hundreds of years.

The other, a serpentine female, her scales a glacial obsidian laced with violet lightning, her horns arcing back like crescent moons.

They were the Sovereigns of the Primordial Dragon Hoard.

Of the Nine Supreme Forces, the Primordial Dragon Hoard of Vyrranthys stood as a force of wrath and memory.

Their mythos? Forged in endless pride, ancient war, and fire deeper than magma.

It is said that their hoards were not merely treasure, but records. Every scale, every fang, every roar held bloodline truths.

Their Supreme Force held the ideology that… "All things return to the Dragons."

The golden male Dragon who led them was Vaurion the Crownflame Sovereign.

The black-violet female Dragon who flew beside him: Xelvara the Moonstorm Matron.

Both of the Neuronova Stage!

Behind them trailed.

10 Celestbone Stage Astral Core Ascension Dragons, each shaped like celestial avatars.

40 Luminblood Stage Dragons, their roars vibrating with sonic echoes of an extinct world.

As they passed over glimmering ridgelines and neared the sacred lands of the Triarcan Mountains, Vaurion's voice broke across the skies.

A voice filled with majesty and edged steel.

"From our bloodline memories… the one who desecrates the grandeur of Dragons shall be here."

His eyes flared, glowing like twin suns behind jeweled armor.

"He dares make Draconic Hybrids, carving from our lineage and forging false legacies. That insult shall not stand."

The other dragons remained silent, but every eye pulsed with vengeance.

"Everything else may come second. But the desecration of our Lineage, our Sovereignty…must be reclaimed!"

WAA!

The Primordial Hoard of Vyrranthys surged forward.

Their wings beat once, and space rippled.

And so they came, one after another!

One after another, Supreme Forces, Dynasties, and Ancients appeared.

The Golden Pride of Aeonthar, regal winged Panthera Lions of Primordial Order.

The Aeonic Bloom of Vaelenthar, Esteemed High Elves radiant with beauty and vengeance.

The Lunaris Dynasty, cold and cunning under the Throne of silver ambition.

The Myrrnith and Drakorith Dynasties, standing united beneath a sun-forged vessel of diplomacy and fire.

And now, the Primordial Hoard of Vyrranthys, whose dragons blazed across the firmament like burning constellations.

All converging.

All arriving for the Triarcan Keep- the last bastion of old law, where diplomacy may yet hold dominion over bloodshed.

But far in the distance...

A single landmass moves across the skies.

Wreathed in golden mist and flowing rivers of glowing vitality, floating faster than any vessel or beast.

The Vessel of Adrastia.

It approached without fanfare, but every force present...

Would feel its coming and know exactly what the hell those on it were soon enough!