Birth of the Ruler: The Emergence of the Primordial Race

A day later, as evening bowed to the creeping embrace of night, the Northern frontline stood in a haunting silence. Just a few meters away from the halted beast flanks' rear, a colossal primordial metal tree loomed like a forgotten relic of a bygone era, its metallic bark glinting under the dimming light.

Around its monstrous steel-like roots, the Aqua Astro and Gravity Astro forces lay in wait, their forms pressed against its cold, unyielding body, blending into the tree's rigid form like shadows cast by an unseen flame. Their presence was a whisper in the air, masked beneath layers of silence, as they concealed themselves from the senses of any lurking enemy.

Unlike the Nihilith Clan's land, where marble rocks and glistening mountains sculpt the landscape into an ornamental masterpiece, their sands as precious as star-forged relics, rich with rare minerals, could command fortunes in the outer worlds, this place held a stark contrast.

The Enerath Clan's lands, known for their harmonious balance of rolling mountains and shifting climates, seemed almost mundane in comparison. Their grassy plains, some scattered and sparse, others lush and dense, held a fragile beauty. Yet, even those landscapes paled before the Structurith Clan's domain. Here, vegetation was a defiance against nature itself, trees with iron-forged trunks, their leaves sharper than blades, their roots tangled like veins of steel through the crust of the world.

Some stood even more defiant, their tempered bark resembling unbreakable rock, silent sentinels of a land forged under a law unlike any other as if the cosmos had sculpted them in the crucible of time. Every realm was a reflection of the cosmic law governing it, the land infused with its ruling force, reshaping reality in its own image.

A fitting example lay in the Void Archon Castle, where Zephyrion, the Nihilith Archon, resided. Constructed from the Nihilith Clan's crystal mountains and translucent glass-rock formations, the structure was not merely built, it was born. Its very foundation pulsed with the essence of the Void, bending reality, shifting and warping around its existence. To the untrained eye, it was an artifact, but to those who understood its essence, it was a living creation, a construct of purpose woven into the very fabric of existence.

Now, beneath the vast shadow of the metal colossus, Lumina and Dunstan led their forces slow and deliberate movements, weaving through its massive girth, approximately 11.5 feet in diameter, as though moving through the arteries of some ancient titan. Their bodies pressed tightly against the unyielding steel-like bark, their immortal energy forming a fragile barrier around them like armor against the insidious force emanating from the tree itself. This was no ordinary plant.

The oppressive Structure and Material Law crawling at their very essence like an unseen parasite, seeking to invade their bodies attempting to rewrite their existence, disassemble their bodies down to the smallest particle, and reconstruct them into something alien. The law gnawed at their resistance, whispering promises of dissolution and rebirth.

Sweat beaded on their furrowed brows, trailing down their strained faces like liquid silver. It dripped from the edges of their noses and jaws, staining the cold steel below as they fought against the unseen force trying to invade them. Muscles clenched, breath held, every heartbeat a war against the relentless restructuring force that sought to unravel their very being. But they had no choice. To step away from the tree's suffocating grasp was to invite attention of the unknown and so, they endured.

Lunara stood at the front, her heart stirring as the divine consciousness within her pulsed, a silent whisper guiding her senses toward a particular direction. Her gaze locked onto the vast darkness ahead, swallowed by the endless abyss of the night. For a moment, she was lost in thought, until a slow, deliberate voice crept toward her ear like a breeze carrying an unspoken warning.

"Lumina," Dunstan's voice called from behind.

She flinched, the sound dragging her back to reality. Her gaze shifted slightly to the side, her breath shallow.

"Hmm," she murmured.

"I don't think they can hold on much longer," Dunstan said, his tone weighted with concern. His eyes remained fixed on the ominous, towering trunk of the primordial metal tree, its presence radiating an oppressive force. "The offensive law emanating from that thing... it's breaking them."

Before Lunara could respond, a sharp, unnatural noise cracked through the air, a grotesque blend of metal grinding against bone, only to be swallowed by silence a moment later. The sound sent a jolt through the gathered warriors, shocking their nerves as if they had been struck by a bolt of lightning.

Whipping around, Lumina and Dunstan turned in unison, their subordinates mirroring their horror. A figure stood frozen among them, a soldier from Dunstan's ranks. The oppressive law radiating from the tree had overwhelmed him. His very genetic code had begun to twist and mutate, his body petrified by an unholy force. His skin had hardened, taking on a metallic sheen, his limbs locked in place as if he had been sculpted into an unyielding statue. His lips remained parted, yet he could not close them, for his jaw had grown too heavy to lift. His eyes, wild and terrified, rattled within their sockets like marbles in a shaken glass.

Fear rippled through the group. Terror dug its claws into their spines. The air crackled with the suffocating weight of dread, and for an instant, their collective energy flickered, threatening to fade and leave them vulnerable to the very force that had claimed one of their own.

Lunara and Dunstan stared at the unmoving figure, beads of sweat carving slow trails down their cheeks. They held their breath, waiting, as if their silence could delay the inevitable.

"Everyone, let go. Stay focused," Dunstan commanded, his voice firm but not unshaken.

One by one, the Astro members forced themselves to comply, attempting to swallow their fear and steady their minds. Yet their trembling bodies betrayed their resolve.

"For now, we retreat to the old cave. We will proceed once we've regrouped," Lunara declared, her voice steady despite the turmoil gripping her chest.

From the rear to the front, the subordinates began their retreat, each step away from the cursed metal tree feeling like a battle against the unseen force that sought to claim them.

"Wouldn't it be wiser to press forward to the distant cave?" Dunstan questioned, keeping pace beside her.

Lunara hesitated for a heartbeat, her fingers brushing the bow at her back. It thrummed with an unsettling energy, reacting to something beyond her comprehension. Her grip tightened.

"My bow... it's restless," she admitted in a hushed tone, ensuring the retreating subordinates would not overhear. "It's pulling toward something ahead, as if it's eager to strike."

Dunstan's breath caught. His eyes widened, his parted lips struggling to form words. But instead of speaking, he swallowed the weight of his thoughts, forcing his expression to remain neutral.

"Are you saying...?" His voice barely rose above a whisper.

Lunara gave a curt nod, her eyes glinting with something between caution and certainty. "Yes. We're close."

A moment of silence passed between them before Lunara exhaled and squared her shoulders. "Let's regroup and decide our next course of action."

With that, she stepped forward, leaving Dunstan behind. He lingered for only a few seconds, his gaze drifting toward the dark horizon before he turned and followed her retreat.

Behind them, the motionless member stood as a monument to the unforgiving force of the primordial tree, left to his fate, abandoned to whatever cruel destiny the laws of this place had carved for him.

At the southern frontline. The air buzzed with an electric tension, a silent symphony of sharpened steel and quiet determination, as the first day of the two-day countdown faded into memory, each Astro and their respective members began their final preparations, steeling themselves for the impending tidal wave of primordial beasts. The air crackled with anticipation, a mixture of focus and quiet tension settling over the encampment.

Only Vega remained apart from the preparations, her fractured right leg binding her to stillness. Seated at the corner of the encampment, she watched in silence as her comrades meticulously refined the Celestial Convergence Formation, their movements precise, their murmurs and chattering weaving a low, rhythmic hum in the background, like a ritual before battle.

Beyond them, at the Bonedust Fog Barrier, an ethereal wall of slow-moving death. It coiled and shifted like a living entity, thick clouds of pale ash swirling with an unsettling grace, as if whispering secrets only the infected could understand.

Hung hovered mid-air, his six celestial wings unfurled like the pages of a sacred tome, their pristine whiteness illuminated by the ghostly shimmer of starlight. Against the canvas of night, his silhouette stood as an ethereal sentinel, his piercing gaze locked onto the ever-shifting wall of bone dust before him. It moved slowly yet ominously, twisting and writhing like the restless spirits of the fallen, an unnatural force stretching across the horizon.

"A day left," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper against the vastness of the night, the weight of what lay ahead pressing upon him like the still air before a storm.