Above the Forbidden Continent, a faint tear had begun to form—a thin, almost imperceptible rift that shimmered with unnatural light.

Yet even its subtle presence sent a shiver through the very fabric of the world.

Crimson streaks ignited across the skies, crackling with volatile energy that turned clouds into jagged, glowing shards.

The heavens themselves seemed to groan, vibrating with an angry resonance that made even the most ancient mountains tremble.

Below, the oceans reacted violently.

Waves erupted like living titans, crashing against cliffs and shorelines with earsplitting fury.

The water twisted into whirlpools, spiralling upwards as if trying to escape the pull of the rift.

The smell of ozone and brine filled the air, carried by winds that screamed like a chorus of countless spirits in torment.

Even the earth itself protested.

Trees bent and snapped under invisible forces, rocks levitated and spun in chaotic orbits, and the very ground beneath the rulers' feet cracked, sending small fissures of molten earth across the battlefield.

The rulers' eyes widened.

The Demon King's shadowed aura flared higher, twisting with anticipation.

"The world…it's reacting. Not to us… but to the rift itself!"

His voice was low, yet carried over the wailing wind.

Melira's scales glimmered as her aura surged.

"The planet… it's angry. The rift isn't welcome. Everything… everything is trying to repel it!"

Sylthara's wings spread wide, feeling the raw push of the world's resistance.

Sylvene's golden eyes narrowed.

"This is the warning. The rift's emergence isn't natural. The World… the very essence of existence… is resisting it. If it continues to grow unchecked, it will tear the balance itself."

Thrain tightened his grip on his hammer, sparks of lightning and molten fire crackling along its shaft.

"Then we'd better make every strike count. If the world is already resisting, any hesitation… and we'll all be torn apart along with it."

From the tear above, the rift pulsed, rippling outward like a heartbeat of forbidden energy.

Its glow intensified, bathing the continent and its surroundings in a blinding light tinged with red, violet, and black.

The sound was indescribable—a roar, a scream, and a vibration that struck the very soul.

The rulers understood the magnitude: the rift wasn't just a passage or a crack in reality.

It was a signal, a cosmic alarm that the world itself had raised in protest.

Melira's eyes burned with determination, crimson against the crimson-lit storm.

The Demon King let out a bellow, and the energy around him warped reality itself, bending the screaming winds to his will.

Sylthara's wings created vortexes of divine force, while Thrain's hammer ignited the atmosphere with stormfire.

Even as the world pushed back, the rulers advanced.

Their combined might surged toward the rift above the Forbidden Continent—a defiance not just of the barrier, but of the planet's own warning.

And all the while, the rift pulsed, crimson and hungry, as though anticipating their next move.

Suddenly, the crimson-lit skies twisted violently.

From the sky, an immense invisible hand descended, larger than any mountain, its presence radiating the weight of the planet itself.

It reached toward the rift, fingers stretching wide, as if to seal or crush the tear—a gesture of the world trying to heal the wound it had rejected.

For a moment, it seemed as though even the combined might of the rulers might be insufficient to oppose it.

Then—a voice.

Deep, resonant, and eternal.

A tone that seemed older than the planet itself, echoing across the sky, the seas, and the very bones of the world.

It carried disdain, dominance, and infinite authority, so overwhelming that it made the invisible hand shudder.

"Ho…?" the voice rumbled, reverberating through the atmosphere.

"A mere planet's will… daring to oppose my will after aeons of solitude?"

The air itself vibrated, crackling with energy that made the ground split beneath the rulers' feet.

Even the Demon King Xerath felt the oppressive gravity of the voice clawing at his essence.

"Pathetic," the voice continued, dripping with contempt.

"How audacious. How… insulting."

With that word, the invisible hand shattered as if it had never existed—obliterated by a force beyond even the planet's authority.

Energy erupted in all directions, tearing at the very sky and creating a shockwave that pushed all the rulers to their knees.

The seas below boiled and recoiled, the wind forming chaotic storms that threatened to lift ships and mountains alike.

From the rift, the world itself seemed to tremble, recoiling as if afraid.

The voice, deep and infinite, resonated once more, cutting through the howling storm:

"You presume to interfere… to rip open what is mine to take? How daring you are… mortals, rulers… dragons, demons…"

Melira's eyes are burning like twin suns.

"Who… who is speaking?!" Her voice was a mix of fury, disbelief, and raw, desperate curiosity.

Xerath's shadowed form surged, tendrils of molten darkness coiling around him. His voice boomed like thunder: "It is not the world… not the World Order… this is something… higher''

The rift pulsed, the invisible remnants of the hand dissipating into pure energy, leaving behind a void of nothingness—the kind that threatened to erase reality itself.

And from within that void… a figure—or perhaps, a presence—emerged.

Its size defied comprehension, its form beyond mortal perception, and its aura radiated absolute dominion over worlds and laws alike.

The voice echoed one last time, reverberating across the cosmos:

"Your defiance… will be your undoing."

The rulers exchanged grim, tense glances.

Even with their ultimate forms unleashed, even with their planet-shattering powers, they now faced something that made the World Order itself seem like a child's toy.

Melira and the other rulers could only stare their expressions of disbelief.

Every instinct screamed that this presence was not merely dangerous—it was existential.

The air itself seemed to curl away from it, bending reality subtly, a warning etched into the fabric of the world.

A voice, smooth and dripping with sarcasm, cut through the charged atmosphere.

"Hmm? It seems there's a gathering of fools here to greet me. How… delightful."

Even as it spoke, the air shimmered around the rift, the faintest tremor running through the very souls of the rulers.

And then, for the first time, it stepped out of the rift.

The ground beneath its foot cracked and splintered as if the planet itself recoiled.

Rocks shattered into dust.

The oceans churned violently.

Trees snapped like twigs, and even the atmosphere seemed unable to fully contain the pressure of a being that existed far beyond the endurance of this world.

It was a sight utterly contradictory yet horrifying.

The creature's attire resembled a butler's suit—immaculately tailored, precise, almost quaint.

Yet nothing about it was quaint.

Its humanoid lizard features were both alien and elegant.

Scaled skin that glimmered like obsidian under moonlight, elongated limbs with joints bending in unnatural angles, and eyes that radiated an intelligence older than stars, crimson and gold swirling.

The rulers instinctively braced themselves, a primal sense of dread crawling over their spines.

Even Xerath, who had torn the fabric of worlds in his wrath, felt the oppressive weight of this being pressing against him.

Melira's claws flexed, her aura blazing brighter, yet even she faltered under the sheer authority emanating from the creature.

"You… you dare approach me," it continued, tilting its head with an almost imperceptible smirk, "as though this world—or its rulers—could matter to one such as I."

The Spirit Empress's eyes narrowed, her hands raising subtly to maintain the balance of the world below.

"This… this is beyond the World Order. Far beyond. Whatever that is… it surpasses even the first ancestors."

Kaelgor growled low, a primal rumble of unease escaping him.

The lizard-like figure adjusted its posture, straightening like a servant welcoming guests—but the air quivered with cataclysmic intent.

"You stand here, showing off your little displays of power," it said, voice smooth and cultured, yet every word carried the weight of planet-shattering authority.

"Your little storms, your dragons, your abyssal kings… amusing, yes, but utterly insignificant."

The dimensional fragments around it groaned and cracked further, the rift quivering as though even the universe feared this presence.

Melira's eyes burned, rage and determination blazing in equal measure. "You dare mock us? I will not let you stand in our way!"

Xerath's shadows writhed, molten darkness and storm-lightning coiling like serpents around him.

"He's beyond… everything we've faced. But we can face him together!"

The creature chuckled softly, a sound like glass shattering across infinite space.

"Together, you say? How… quaint. Very well. I shall indulge your enthusiasm… for a short while."

It seems like that Being was ready to battle against the rulers; however, something else had happened instead.

"Hmm...? It seems this world is not ready yet… but what do you expect?" the being's voice echoed one last time, smooth yet saturated with disdain.

"You people rejected the… idea of evolution, choosing to seclude yourselves for thousands of years."

A tense silence fell over the battlefield.

The wind itself seemed to hesitate, the air charged with lingering dread.

"Well… at least, now that the annoying seal has been shattered," the being continued, its words almost casual despite the weight behind them, "be prepared for what's coming."

And with a single snap of its clawed fingers, reality seemed to shiver.

In a heartbeat, the being vanished back into the rift, the very fabric of the dimensional tear folding itself neatly behind it.

Yet the aftershocks of its presence lingered—the oceans churned violently, the skies bled streaks of crimson, and even the Forbidden Continent seemed to tremble as if it had exhaled in relief and fear at the same time.

None of the rulers moved or spoke.

Even Melira, whose voice could shake continents, felt the oppressive weight of silence pressing down.

They all understood—if they dared to strike now, if they unleashed even a fraction of their power, the consequences might not only destroy the rift but could shatter the planet itself.

For long moments, only the sound of the quivering ocean and the whisper of wind filled the void where the presence had just been.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, all eyes turned toward the Spirit Empress.

But instead of calm authority, they found her… panicked.

Her eyes, usually steady and radiant, flickered wildly, pupils dilating as if absorbing the incomprehensible scale of what had just occurred.

Her hands, pale and delicate, shook as they hovered over the currents of the world she usually commanded with unerring precision.

"Spirit Empress…" Melira's voice was low, cautious, almost afraid to break the fragile tension.

"What… what just happened?"

Sylvene's breath came fast, uneven. Her voice, when it came, was almost a whisper, but the weight behind it was crushing.

"That being… it…it isn't just powerful," she murmured, trembling.

"It's… it's beyond anything I've ever measured… beyond the World Order… beyond even the First Generation…"

Her hands clutched at her chest as if trying to hold herself together.

Melira's crimson eyes narrowed, her claws flexing.

"Explain! What is it? What are we facing?"

The Spirit Empress' gaze swept across all of them, her expression stricken with dread.

''....'' she refused to answer.

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