An unfamiliar aura descends upon the battlefield like an unseen verdict. It does not crush. It does not rage. It simply exists, and in doing so, renders everything else insignificant.
The sky dims.
Mana freezes mid-flow.
Wind halts. Flames extinguish. Water hangs suspended like glass.
Soldiers scream, but no sound comes out.
"This—!" Kevom gasps.
Hecrad's eyes widen.
That aura…
It is not elemental.
It is not raw power.
It is law.
A presence so vast and absolute that the world itself seems to acknowledge it, even if it cannot yet fully submit. Invisible lines of authority spread outward, defining space, weight, existence.
A being that uses law as power.
Legends flash through Hecrad's mind, ancient texts, forbidden classifications, half-forgotten warnings.
Tier 7.
"…This is bad," Kevom whispers.
A figure begins to form high above the battlefield. The air folds respectfully around it, space adjusting as if making room.
Monster races across the field react instantly.
