(24 Hours Ago, Righteous Fleet Commander Bobby’s POV)
Bobby did not expect the Cult civilization on the other side of the Time-Stilled Portal to be anything special.
After all, the Time-Stilled World had long been dismissed as a dead realm, its mana corrupted, its air unbreathable, its soil blackened beyond repair.
He had imagined it as an arid wasteland where only ghosts could linger, a desolate scar of time where nothing truly lived.
And hence, when he led his fleet of a thousand warships through the swirling portal, he expected ruin, silence, and decay.
However, what he saw as he entered the veil was something completely different instead.
The transition hit like a plunge through molten glass. The world bent and twisted as light and time folded over each other, the sensors screaming in alarm before steadying into clarity—and when the distortion finally cleared, Bobby found himself staring into a horizon that defied every expectation.
A modern city that was alive, radiant, and impossibly vast stretched before him.
Tall towers made of beautiful shapes rose like divine spires into a sky that looked dull gray and stagnant in comparison.
Suspended highways glowed faintly in circular patterns around the central core, and channels of pure mana cut through the landscape like arteries, feeding power to structures that pulsed with life.
It was the very opposite of an arid and desolate world, as what laid before them was the best metropolitana that the universe had ever seen.
"What... in Lord Mauriss’s name is this?" whispered his second-in-command, eyes wide as the readings flickered wildly across his screen. "There’s no tainted mana in our vicinity. No rot. No decay. Commander, this isn’t a wasteland. It’s—"
"A thriving metropolis," Bobby finished softly, his throat dry.
He watched the silver spires on the tower tops emit light that mimicked the effect of sunlight in this sunlight-less world, as apparently the Cult people had even thought of this aspect to make the life of those living here as normal as possible.
"Deploy the tapes," Bobby ordered after a long pause, his tone steady once more. "All squadrons. Scatter them across every major district. The Cult heretics need to be shown the downfall of their Dragon."
"Aye, sir!"
The command echoed through the fleet as hatches opened and thousands of small metallic capsules descended toward the shining city, burning like comets through the air.
For a brief moment, the world seemed calm.
Then—
*BOOOOOOM*
A streak of green light erupted from the city’s center, cutting straight through the formation.
Twenty ships vanished in a single instant, their hulls turning to molten debris before the sensors even registered impact. The calm skies erupted in chaos as waves of emerald mana flared upward, forming a radiant dome that fired back at the fleet with unrelenting precision.
"What? What was that? Where did that attack come from?!" Bobby shouted, gripping the rail as the ship shuddered beneath his feet. "Are they firing back? All units locate the source of the attack and fire back!"
He ordered, as all around him, more and more ships were cut apart by undetectable mana slashes that cut through the fleets formation like butter.
"Commander, it seems like we can’t locate the source of that attack, our radars don’t work in this world.
What now sir? What are your orders?" the captain cried, his voice breaking through static.
But before Bobby could answer, the clouds above the metropolis parted and a shape massive and unnatural rose from within.
At first, it looked like a green mist gathering into form, but as it ascended, the mist condensed into something tangible, something alive.
A frog.
A monstrous, emerald-skinned giant, easily the size of a destroyer-class ship, its golden eyes glinting with intelligence and fury. Its body was sleek and armored in natural carapace, and from its back extended a colossal sword nearly a kilometer long, forged entirely from condensed mana that hummed like a living storm.
"Dear God..." someone whispered, their voice trembling. "It’s... it’s looking right at us."
The frog raised its sword slowly, the air itself vibrating as it gathered power, the blade glowing brighter until its light drowned out the glow of the city spires.
Then came the swing.
*SKRRRRRHHHHHH*
The heavens screamed as a single slash of blinding light tore through the fleet, splitting space itself.
Hundreds of ships disintegrated instantly, vaporized by the shockwave as alarms blared and metal screamed.
"Evade! Evasive maneuvers! All ships break formation!" Bobby roared, his voice drowned beneath the sound of explosions. "We can’t fight this thing.... It’s too powerful.... retreat, damn it, retreat!"
The fleet scattered, but it was too late. The creature’s second swing cleaved through another formation, its attack cutting through armor like paper.
Everywhere Bobby looked, his ships were falling, bursting into silent fireballs that vanished into the shimmering sky.
"Commander, we’re not going to make it out alive!" the captain shouted, gripping the controls.
"Punch the coordinates—get us out!" Bobby barked, slamming his fist against the console. "Now!"
*FZZZZZZZTTT*
The exit portal inched closer into view, flickering erratically as their Destroyer Ship accelerated towards it.
At this point, nobody knew whether they would make it out alive or not, however, in the end, they were the only ship to do so.
As out of the 1000 ships Bobby led into the Time Stilled World on this operation, they were the only one to make it back out, while the others were neutralized by the Big Green monster inside.
"W-what the hell was that? What was that Urban City? What was that Big Green Monster?"
Someone aboard the ship whispered those words, their voice trembling, as Bobby swallowed hard, the sound of his own gulp echoing in his ears louder than the explosions that still roared beyond the hull.
Though he himself was a Monarch and a veteran of countless campaigns, even he felt the chill of death crawl down his spine as he remembered that monstrous frog’s gaze.
For in those golden eyes, there had been no malice, no hatred — only the calm assurance of power so absolute that resistance itself seemed laughable.
And in that moment, Bobby knew, beyond any shadow of pride or denial, that even ten of him together could not have stood against that single being.
That creature was no beast.
It was dominion incarnate.
And the Cult... was not dying.
It was evolving.