Creation Of All Things

With the base now complete and the motherships humming quietly like sleeping titans, Raphael stood at the edge of the command deck, the wind brushing against his coat.

He glanced up once at the glowing towers that now reached into the sky, then turned back to the crystal tablet in his hand. With a flick of his finger, glowing lines of golden text lit up and disappeared into the air—sent across galaxies in an instant.

The message was simple.

"To all vassals under the banner of the Celestial Monarch Faction—send your best. Warriors, scholars, engineers, strategists. The new HQ is ready. The planet now known as Virelia awaits you."

The moment it was sent, space rippled.

Across distant systems, the message arrived in bursts of golden light, unfolding into Raphael's voice and seal.

On a planet with floating forests and crystal skies, an elven general read the letter and nodded without a word before stepping into a glowing portal.

In the volcanic halls of a dwarven empire, hammers paused mid-swing as the message echoed through their forges. Their leader grinned. "'Bout time," he said, slamming his fist on the table. "Prep the elite."

On a moon wrapped in chains of metal and light, cloaked figures read the summons in silence. One of them, their eyes hidden under a smooth mask, whispered, "We ride at dawn."

And on a quiet cliff overlooking a star-soaked sea, a woman stood barefoot, hair blowing gently in the breeze.

Reila.

She opened her eyes, read the message once, then vanished without a sound—leaving behind only the shimmer of light where she had stood.

Back on Virelia, portals started blinking open in the Transport Zones—like stars falling onto the land.

One by one, they came.

The elite.

The chosen.

The future of the Celestial Monarch Faction.

And at the center of it all, Adam stood on one of the Monarch Towers, arms crossed, eyes glowing faintly as he looked down at the arriving warriors.

A grin tugged at his lips.

"Showtime."

portals flared brighter as more figures stepped through—each one carrying the weight of their world, their hopes, their strength.

From all across the universe, they arrived.

Tall warriors in golden armor that shimmered like suns. Silent assassins cloaked in smoke. Beast tamers walking beside creatures that pulsed with power. Scholars whose eyes glowed with ancient runes. Even children—young geniuses with sparks of something greater in them—stepped onto Virelia's sacred soil.

The ground trembled—not in fear, but in anticipation.

Above, the motherships rotated slowly, casting long shadows across the new world.

Freya stood at the central tower's balcony, arms folded, her eyes scanning the newcomers. "It's happening faster than I thought," she said softly.

Raphael joined her, nodding. "They're ready. They've been waiting."

Below, Adam had already descended, walking between the arrivals, greeting some with nods, ignoring others, watching all.

The ten Monarch Towers pulsed softly behind him, their glow reaching into the skies like lighthouses.

Then a portal sparked.

This one was different.

Smoother. Quieter. Colder.

From it stepped Reila.

Black cloak. A presence that silenced the area around her for a moment.

"Who are you?" Adam asked, his tone flat, eyes barely lifting to meet hers.

The girl smiled faintly, cloak swaying in the breeze. "I'm Reila Virellian," she said, stepping forward. "Destroyer of the Skyveil Titan. Daughter of the Monarch of Mirrors."

There was pride in her voice. Just enough to catch attention.

Adam blinked once, unimpressed. "Cool." He turned, already walking past her. "Which means you can't drive a mothership. So, pretty much useless."

That stopped her in her tracks.

Her hand tightened around her sword.

The others nearby glanced her way, sensing the shift in the air.

"You little—" she growled, pulling her sword in a flash of silver. She turned, striking at Adam with speed that tore through the wind.

But—

She never made it.

Before the blade even got close, she dropped.

Hard.

Face-first into the dirt.

And she wasn't the only one.

Everyone on the field—warriors, leaders, even the ones watching from a distance—all dropped to their knees, gasping as an overwhelming pressure smothered the planet like a wave crashing down.

Kael'Thar's wings stretched wide from his perch in the sky, his glowing red-gold runes pulsing like a heartbeat. His aura spread like wildfire—heavy, ancient, untouchable.

The world itself seemed to freeze.

Adam didn't even turn around.

He just stood there for a second. Then slowly looked back over his shoulder, eyes sharp and cold.

"You're lucky you're still breathing," he said, voice calm but sharper than a blade. "But don't ever pull that stunt again."

His gaze lingered on her, half-buried in the dirt, trembling under Kael'Thar's presence.

"Next time, I won't stop him."

Then he walked off, hands in his pockets like nothing happened.

Behind him, Kael'Thar folded his wings and let the pressure fade. The skies lightened. The people slowly rose, panting, eyes wide with disbelief.

Reila stayed on the ground a moment longer, face flushed with rage and humiliation.

Her sword lay beside her, untouched.

And in that silence that followed, one thing was clear:

Adam wasn't just some guy who came back.

He was the one they'd all been warned about.

The one whose name was spoken with both reverence and fear across systems.

The Supreme Monarch.

Reila finally pushed herself up, hands shaking, dust clinging to her cheeks. She didn't say a word. Just stared at Adam's back as he disappeared behind the crowds, swallowed up by the shadow of the towering command spire.

Kael'Thar hovered above, his eyes glowing like twin suns, still watching her—just in case.

Freya leaned over to Raphael at the balcony, raising a brow.

"She drew her sword at him? Who the hell told her that was a good idea?"

Raphael smirked slightly. "She'll learn. They all will."

Back outside, more arrivals were stepping through the portals. The Transport Zone had turned into a storm of energy—light, footsteps, whispers of awe.

Reila dusted herself off, forcing calm into her face. But her eyes never stopped searching for Adam.

Freya had now stepped into the crowd too, walking calmly as her cloak danced behind her. She moved like a queen inspecting her new soldiers.

And from above, Raphael's voice echoed across the towers.

"To all who arrived today… Welcome to Virelia."

A pause.

"You were not invited for comfort. Or for ceremony. You were summoned for purpose. You stand on sacred ground, under the command of the Supreme Monarch. You will not survive here by reputation alone."

He turned off the comms.

No applause. No response. Just silence and tension thick in the air.

Then another ripple—

A massive portal, different from the others, flared open at the edge of the Transport Zone.

This one pulsed like a heartbeat.

Adam looked toward it, his eyes narrowing.

"...Took you long enough," he muttered.

A figure stepped through.

Tall. Armored. Cloaked in shadows that didn't belong to this world.

And behind him—more followed.

Another faction.

Uninvited. Unexpected.

And from the way the air shifted, everyone knew—

This wasn't a greeting.

It was a warning.