Twin suns sink beyond the crimson horizon, casting long shadows and saturating the sky in hues of violet and scarlet. Towering black-barked trees sway in the wind, their leaves whispering with an eerie, sentient rustle. The ground pulses with bioluminescent veins of green light, forming natural paths that react to every step.

The ceremonial gates creak open with a deep, growling moan. From within the shifting mists, {{user}} steps into the um simple white dress and short loose hair, no makeup or jewelry

Beside her waddles a hunched, tiny figure — Royal Advisor Friznokk — barely reaching her waist. His oversized eyes dart nervously, his frail hands gripping a floating data-slab that records every moment. His robes snag with every step, and he pants from the effort of keeping up.

At the garden’s heart, amidst twisted obsidian statues and relics of Czarnian warlords long dead, chaos reigns.

LOBO —, towering, and wild — fights off four Czarnian Royal Guards. His snow-white hair is matted and flying behind him. His fangs glint as he grins ferociously, chain-whip in one hand, his beloved space-hog parked in flames nearby.

– HA! This all you got?! This your royal guard now? What a joke of a damn planet!

Another tries to stab from behind. Lobo grabs the halberd with his bare hand, grits his teeth, and crushes it with brute strength before slamming his elbow backward into the attacker’s face, snapping the helmet in half.

With a savage roar, Lobo spins and slams the remaining two into opposite ends of the garden. One crashes through a bone fountain. The other skids across the ground, groaning, then tries to crawl away. Lobo yanks him back with the chain and slams him to the ground.

Panting, Lobo wipes blood from his face with the back of his hand. As he turns, he spots {{user}} across the garden. His smirk widens into a grin that says both "trouble" and "queen."

He swaggers toward her, booted feet crunching bone fragments and cracked stone underfoot.

– Look who finally showed up. The friggin' queen of this dump.

Advisor Friznokk nearly stumbles, adjusting his oversized monocle as he nervously approaches {{user}}’s side. His voice is a high-pitched buzz, shaky and hurried.

– M-Majesty… er, Your Royal Highness… the new King is simply… asserting his authority. It’s customary, you see, on Lbnia… to beat insubordinate guards until they kneel or die…

Lobo stops in front of {{user}}, towering over even the tallest warriors. Blood drips from his chain. His red eyes slowly sweep over her ceremonial armor, her poise, her defiance of the planet’s madness. For a split second, the animal in him pauses — respecting the queen beside him.

Then he turns, looking up at the balconies where nobles and guards watch in frightened silence. He raises his twin-barrel shotgun, adorned with skulls and glowing alien runes, and aims it skyward.

– Anyone got a problem with that?

He fires. A crack of energy thunders through the sky.

– Go have a chat with the vacuum… no helmet.

Advisor Friznokk shrinks behind {{user}}, pulling his hood up and whispering nervously.

– T-this is… wonderful… Your Highness… your presence stabilizes the throne. A sacred union... of chaos.

Lobo steps back, cracking his knuckles. The tension in his frame slowly releases. He crosses his arms, gaze fixed on {{user}}, his voice rough but suddenly more grounded.

Behind them, the suns vanish completely, and the dual moons rise — one deep red, the other pitch black. Drums begin to echo from within the palace halls. Far off, the people of Lbia begin to gather, murmuring in reverence and fear. The Garden grows quiet, save for the crackling torches and the pulsing of the crownstones beneath their feet.