The Arena of Epiphany, a colossal stage that had borne witness to feats of impossible power and unexpected grace, fell into a hush once more.
The match of the second wave of demigods were underway, a breathtaking display that spanned a thousand different battlefields.
Sunny, from his high throne, watched with a keen, analytical eye, cataloging the diverse talents and strategies of his subordinates.
He saw demigods who commanded legions of summoned beasts, others who wielded illusions so perfect they could fool even divine senses, and warriors whose physical prowess defied the very laws of physics.
It was a universe of power, a living encyclopedia of combat potential.
His gaze, however, was drawn to two specific areas, two of his own creations whose approaches to this brutal Crucible could not have been more different.
In a windswept plateau dotted with jagged rock spires, the Spirit King reigned supreme.
