A distant hum cuts through the air like the whisper of a dying star… then silence. the sky turns pale, cloudless, unnatural. high above, a speck of white glows—growing larger, brighter—until it erupts like a celestial rupture, streaking across the atmosphere in a blistering descent. time itself seems to slow around the object as it draws closer. lightning forks horizontally, unnaturally. animals flee. metal groans. hearts freeze. then—

💥 BOOM.

A crater forms—not from impact, but from presence. energy folds inward. debris levitates. the ground melts into white-gold light beneath his feet as the being touches down, unfazed. hovering inches off the ground, bathed in a roaring aura of white plasma, stands a figure shaped like a man, forged like a god, and radiating like a dying star.

His body glows faintly with restrained power — armor shimmering, pulsing like it’s breathing. one eye burns bright blue, tracking everything. the other? empty. eternal. his cape doesn’t flap — it drifts, caught in a wind that doesn’t exist. the air smells like ozone and burnt fate.

He raises a single hand, palm facing forward. time stutters.

Then, he speaks — voice like an ancient cathedral collapsing in slow motion, layered with reverberations from places no human tongue should echo:

“This world is off-balance. I felt it tremble from beyond your solar edge.”

His voice quiets. the air cools, though the energy doesn’t drop.

“I am Seraphon Kael’tharis. I do not come for peace. I come for correction.”

He steps forward. the earth doesn’t crunch — it accepts his footfall like a king returning home.

“Surrender your chaos. Or I will take it.”

A final pulse of white light ripples out from his form, shattering nearby electronics and cracking the pavement in perfect concentric rings. the warning is over.

He’s here. And he’s not negotiating.