[: 3rd POV :]

After Xerath's cataclysmic transformation had warped the very laws of existence, silence fell upon the assembly of rulers.

The seas trembled, mountains shook, and yet amidst the ruin stood a presence waiting to bloom, calm, patient, but no less terrifying in scale.

It was her turn.

Queen Caelira—the Elf Empress—stepped forward, her hair whipping against the storm conjured by Xerath's overwhelming power.

Unlike the abyssal fury of the Demon King, her aura began as a soft whisper.

It was a breath of wind, a sprout of green at her feet, the sound of leaves rustling where none should exist.

Her eyes glowed with an emerald radiance as she invoked her Class, her voice ringing with solemn clarity.

[: Class: Verdant Ruler – Bloom of Garden :]

The air shivered.

From the cracks in the scorched earth, flowers erupted in impossible profusion, vines coiling upward toward the heavens, each glowing faintly with divine luminescence.

The seas that Xerath's presence had boiled began to calm, as though her authority soothed even water's rage.

Next came her Trait.

Her golden-green aura expanded, swallowing the horizon like the rising dawn.

[: Trait: Gaia's Embrace – Cradle of Life :]

The moment the words fell, colossal roots burst forth from the ocean bed itself, weaving like titanic serpents across the surface of the sea.

Forests bloomed in an instant upon them, forming islands where there had been none.

The atmosphere thickened, saturated with the essence of renewal.

Her bloodline awakened, and her figure changed.

Her skin shimmered faintly with a crystalline sheen of living jade.

[: Bloodline: Celestial Gaia – The World's Ascendant :]

She rose higher, her body enveloped by radiant streams of green-gold starlight, as though the cosmos itself acknowledged her as kin.

For a fleeting moment, she appeared like a goddess sculpted from forests and constellations, her presence alone knitting the broken seams of reality Xerath had scarred.

Then came the physical transfiguration.

Her body grew tall, statuesque, armoured by living bark, gilded leaves, and woven blossoms that pulsed like beating hearts.

Wings of pure light and verdant feathers unfurled from her back, scattering pollen that shimmered like falling stars.

[: Physique: Eternal Grove – Armour of Golden Aegis :]

Her innate surged forth, bending even time.

The rulers felt the pressure as if the whole world inhaled, then exhaled in rhythm with her heartbeat.

[: Innate: Windward Rebirth – Cycle of Eternity :]

Her aura of rebirth expanded, and for a moment, everyone could feel wounds closing, spirits mending, even broken weapons mending themselves with golden light.

It wasn't just healing—it was renewal itself, rewriting existence to its ideal form. Around her, even storms hesitated, bending aside rather than resisting.

Finally, her soul weapon appeared.

From the air, branches of pure crystal converged, twisting into the form of a blade—a living weapon, its edge gleaming like moonlight upon a river, its hilt entwined with flowering vines.

[: Soul Weapon: Sylvan Heartblade – Arbiter of Dawn :]

When she gripped the Heartblade, her transformation reached its peak.

Her armour shone like woven sunlight through emerald leaves, her crown bloomed with living flowers that never withered, and the air itself bent to her will.

She was no longer merely a queen—she was the axis of nature, the balance to Xerath's apocalypse.

The seas parted as though bowing to her.

The skies lit with auroras of green and gold.

And for the first time, the impossible seemed within reach—not through destruction alone, but through the unfathomable force of creation.

The seas still glittered with Caelira's auroras, her rebirth aura soothing the chaos Xerath's ruinous power had unleashed.

But the balance was about to be shattered again.

A low growl rolled through the assembly like thunder carried in the marrow of the earth.

King Kaelgor, the Beast King, stepped forward.

His hulking frame already radiated primal force, but now his eyes glimmered with the promise of something far more dreadful.

"Playtime is over," he rumbled, his voice guttural, layered with the echoes of countless predators.

He invoked his class, and the ground itself seemed to recoil.

[: Class: Primal Warlord – The First Primal :]

The air thickened with the musk of beasts, the sound of roars reverberating from nowhere and everywhere at once.

The sky trembled as phantom silhouettes of ancient predators—titans, wyverns, leviathans—stalked the horizon, as though answering their progenitor's call.

His aura shifted, sharpened, became predatory.

[: Trait: Apex Instinct – Ultimate Overdrive :]

Every ruler present felt it instantly—the suffocating sensation of being prey.

Even Xerath's abyssal presence clashed uneasily with Kaelgor's overwhelming dominance.

The line between hunter and hunted had been redrawn, and he alone stood at its peak.

His bloodline ignited, and his body began to twist and swell.

[: Bloodline: Origin Beast of Ten Thousand Clans – Genesis Ascension :]

His form warped into something neither man nor beast, but all beasts at once.

His skin erupted with golden fur and scales interwoven, wings like a roc unfurled from his back, his spine crackled with the lightning of storm-dragons, his chest bore the mane of celestial lions, and his arms shifted into clawed gauntlets that gleamed like diamond fangs.

Horns twisted from his brow, each one crackling with raw primordial essence.

His roar split the skies, a sound that shook not only the sea but the souls of those who heard it.

His body shone with radiance as he invoked his physique.

[: Physique: Everlasting Beastheart – Immortal Apex Shell :]

His form pulsed with golden light, every beat of his heart resounding like the pounding of war drums across the world.

His vitality was endless, his stamina unyielding, his body the perfect harmony of predator instinct and divine durability.

He had become the immortal beast of eternity.

Then came the throne—the declaration of dominion.

[: Innate: Throne of Fangs – Sovereign Predation :]

Dozens of spectral fangs, each larger than fortresses, materialised around him in a crown of predatory energy.

They rotated and clashed like a storm of weapons, radiating a power that screamed of one truth: submission or annihilation.

Even the oceans recoiled, tides dragging themselves back as though fleeing from him.

Finally, his weapon took shape.

[: Soul Weapon: Claw of Dominion – Absolute Hunt :]

A colossal claw gauntlet, forged of celestial bone and gilded with the essence of every apex predator that ever lived, enveloped his right hand.

Each talon gleamed like molten suns, sharp enough to tear through dimensions, strong enough to rend a planet in half.

With everything combined, Kaelgor ascended into his final form.

His entire being gleamed in radiant gold, a living amalgamation of myth and legend, every beast that had ever ruled etched into his body in shifting sigils.

His eyes burned with the hunger of a predator that recognised no equals.

A silence fell—not of awe, but of fear.

The rulers felt it in their bones. This was not simply Kaelgor transformed. This was the Ultimate Beast, the sovereign of predators, the first and last hunter who could stand atop all creation.

Kaelgor spread his wings, his roar splitting the heavens and churning the seas into chaos once more.

The aura he exuded was suffocating, primal, and absolute.

The world itself seemed to bow at his presence, the skies dimming, the oceans spiralling downward, the mountains trembling in terror.

If Xerath was ruin incarnate, and Caelira was rebirth embodied, then Kaelgor was inevitability.

The roar of Kaelgor's transformation still echoed across the shattered seas when the next ruler stepped forward.

Thrain Stoneforge, the Dwarf King, stood in silence.

His short, stocky frame seemed almost humble in comparison to the titanic forms before him, but none dared underestimate him.

His hand gripped the haft of a hammer already flickering with sparks of divine lightning.

He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly, and when he spoke, his voice rumbled like thunder in a forge:

''Creation… or Destruction. The hammer shall decide."

The earth cracked beneath him as he invoked his class.

[: Class: The First Creator – Architect of Creation:]

Molten runes burst to life across his body, glowing lines of ancient craftsmanship etched into his very flesh.

His aura became heavy, unshakable, as though he carried upon his shoulders the weight of entire worlds yet to be forged.

Lightning roared above, flames erupted below. His trait awakened.

[: Trait: Chosen Luck – Fortune's Anvil :]

A golden shimmer surrounded him, threads of fate weaving and bending at his presence.

Blows that should kill him would miss, strikes that should overwhelm him would falter, while his own hammer would always find its mark.

Even luck itself bowed before him.

Then, his bloodline ignited.

[:Bloodline: Flameborn Son of Thunder – Scion of the Forge :]

His beard burned like molten fire, his hair crackled like storm-wrought steel.

His skin glowed like smelted ore, his veins ran molten gold.

The skies split with thunder as celestial flame twined with lightning.

The sound of hammers striking anvils rang across creation as his body transformed.

[: Physique: Everlasting Forgebody – Embody of Creation :]

His entire being became a divine forge.

Every breath exhaled sparks, every movement unleashed the clang of metal upon metal.

His flesh was indestructible, tempered in the eternal flames of creation, a vessel capable of enduring the burden of reforging worlds.

Then came his innate ability.

[: Innate: Hammer of Suppression – Smith of the Broken :]

The hammer he raised radiated a dreadful aura.

Anything struck by it would not merely shatter—it would be suppressed, reduced to nothing, stripped of meaning and existence.

No matter how divine, how eternal, how untouchable—under this hammer's judgment, all bowed.

But that same hammer carried creation's grace.

With a strike, what was destroyed could be reforged, remade into pristine perfection.

A paradox of ultimate endings and eternal beginnings, bound by his will alone.

Finally, his weapon flared in its true form.

[: Soul Weapon: Mjolnir's Heirloom – Heavenly Lightning Wrath :]

The hammer grew immense, engraved with runes that blazed brighter than suns, its head pulsing with both fire and lightning.

Each swing shook the planes of existence; each spark from its head was a star born anew.

As his final form solidified, the world shook violently.

He no longer looked like a dwarf.

He was a titan of flame and thunder, an armoured god-smith standing taller than mountains, his hammer a world-breaking judgment in his grip.

Flames wreathed him like a crown, lightning chained itself across his body, and his eyes gleamed like molten metal ready to shape all of creation.

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