Uriel stopped. Behind him, tens of thousands of his subjects stood frozen, an extension of his own will. He waited.
The silence was broken only by the flow of the great river, whose waters seemed to hold a held breath. He waited until finally he felt it with crystal clarity.
A tyrannical and terrifying will sought to undermine his own, to snatch away the dominion he had forged with such effort. But Uriel had secured his will like enormous chains binding his army together, link by link, mind by mind.
He transformed the small boat into a sword. His fingers closed around the hilt, feeling the latent power in the weapon, and he stepped into the waters of the great river. He summoned the water pearl and placed it in his mouth, allowing him to breathe beneath the surface as if it were his natural element.
His eyes settled ahead, several tens of kilometers away. There he saw it.
It was not simply a creature. It was the river itself made will.
In the distance, amid the murky waters and the bluish twilight filtering a ghostly light from the surface, a colossal mass stirred.
Each of its movements seemed to make the entire world breathe, as if reality itself held its breath.
Its body, if that could be called a body, stretched across entire kilometers. A living abomination of dark, moist flesh that appeared to have neither beginning nor end. At least five kilometers in length, and yet much of it remained hidden in the depths, as if that magnitude were merely what it deigned to show, a mere suggestion of its true scale.
From its body emerged dozens… no, hundreds of tentacles. Thick as towers, they snaked in all directions like blind serpents seeking prey. They moved with a slowness that seemed unnatural, but Uriel understood instantly that it was a deception of the senses. Their movements were swift, terrifyingly fast. The tentacles completely ignored physics, cutting through the water with a grace they should not possess. Some were covered in small spines that glistened with poison; others, in suckers that opened and closed like hungry mouths, like ulcers pulsing with their own life.
And at the center… its "head."
A grotesque, deformed structure, crowned by multiple gleaming eyes. They were scattered without apparent order, but all open, all watching with an ancient and hungry consciousness. Those eyes emitted a faint bluish glow that pierced the river's darkness like lighthouses in the deepest abyss.
Beneath them, a mouth. An enormous vertical crack splitting the tyrant's flesh, filled with long, uneven fangs like broken spears that slowly opened and closed. From it escaped currents of violated water and a pressure that made the entire surroundings vibrate, that made Uriel's bones tremble even from kilometers away.
Each of its movements raised tides. Each contraction of its muscles churned the river as if it were a mere puddle instead of the vast expanse of water it was.
It did not swim. It dominated with its will.
The water did not surround it… it obeyed it.
The spiritual pressure emanating from it was monstrous. It was not simply raw power, not mere strength accumulated over countless years. It was an ancient, tyrannical will, like that of a forgotten god who never accepted being replaced. It tried to infiltrate Uriel's mind, tear apart his control from within, subjugate his army, absorb every one of his creatures and turn them into part of itself.
Around him, Uriel observed the army following the tyrant. A tidal wave of corrupted abominations emerged from the shadows of the riverbed, accompanied by large abominations that moved with a clumsiness that was deceptively lethal.
So a great tyrant, Uriel thought.
For the first time in a long while, nervousness nested in his chest. It was, by an abysmal margin, the largest and most terrifying thing he had seen in his entire existence. Larger than the beasts he had subdued, more ancient than the domains he had absorbed, more powerful than any will he had faced.
He looked away from the great tyrant and observed his own army.
Most were of the corrupted rank, loyal but fragile compared to the beast before them. Here and there was a great abomination, creatures of considerable power though not comparable to the tyrant's grandeur. They were numerous, that was true. They could fight, or at least keep the enemy army occupied while he dealt with the great tyrant.
He traced strategies in his mind, considered options, discarded possibilities.
Finally, he decided to summon the Beast of Winter and Gunlaug. The former for its terrifying powers, capable of freezing the very essence of its enemies. Gunlaug for his combat abilities, his unbreakable ferocity, and his absolute loyalty.
He looked at the Beast of Winter. The creature raised its titanic body over the great river, emerging from the depths where it had been waiting. Its scales gleamed with a glacial brightness, and an icy mist began to spread from its body, freezing the water's surface around it. It awaited his order to begin turning the river into an icy graveyard.
Uriel used his transcendent form. Power flowed through him like a flooded river, transforming his essence, elevating him beyond his usual limits. Then he took the form of a titanic creature. A sea dragon of eastern style, serpentine and majestic.
His body extended beyond two hundred meters using the essence provided by his domain, expanding to reach a monstrous size: eight hundred meters long and fifty meters wide. His head alone measured ninety meters, crowned by a pointed black horn protruding from his skull like a spear raised toward the invisible skies.
Behind him, his army waited. Tens of thousands of wills connected by the invisible chains of his dominion, all beating in unison with his own.
Meanwhile, the tyrant's will and his own clashed on an invisible plane, a silent war of minds where every moment of distraction could mean ruin.
He summoned Nyx and absorbed her into his dark body.
Her abilities would be vital for the battle, more specifically her Curse ability. Since Nyx was a creature of darkness under his natural dominion, her capabilities extended to him, focusing on his enemy with absolute precision. The curse wove around Uriel like a second skin, invisible but lethal, waiting for the moment to pounce on the enemy army.
After having everything prepared, he moved his enormous new body, adapting to the strange sensations of scales, of internal tentacles he had not possessed before, of a length that distorted his perception of space. He stared fixedly at the great tyrant and let out a roar. The sound shook the great river, creating shockwaves that displaced tons of water, that pushed back the weaker creatures on both sides.
The great tyrant responded with a much more powerful roar, a sonic explosion that shattered the rock of the riverbed and sent its army forward like a living tide.
Uriel did the same. He deployed his entire army in a wave of flesh, fangs, and forged will. His subjects clashed with the tyrant's in a collision that dyed the water darker shadows, that made the riverbed tremble. A brutal battle began between both sides where hundreds of abominations died every instant.
Uriel felt the death of his subjects.
Each of those deaths resonated in his domain like a funeral bell, like a wound in his own extended flesh. But he did not lament them. He could not allow his domain to be reduced, otherwise he would lose essence until he had to consume his own, weakening himself at the critical moment ahead.
Using his transcendent form and maintaining such an enormous construct as the sea dragon consumed essence at a ridiculous rate. Added to the battle that had barely begun, the expenditure would only increase further, devouring his reserves as the tyrant devoured the river.
He tensed his body and shot forward like a projectile toward the great tyrant's army.
His scales, hardened by countless layers of essence, smashed the weaker creatures in his path as if they were paper. Each movement of his tail split abominations in two. Each tail strike raised waves of death.
The voice of the spell resonated in his mind, but he ignored it. All his attention was focused on two things, and only two.
The first: maintaining absolute control over his army. Every thread of will, every connection with his subjects, had to remain intact. If the tyrant managed to undermine his dominion and snatch away even one of his creatures, it would be the beginning of the end.
The second: killing the great tyrant before him.
Nothing else mattered at that moment. Not the voices, not the spells, not the promises. Only the battle. Only the bloodied river and the two titanic wills preparing to collide.