This was Thunderlord's second ability —
To summon the Tempest Seraphex.
Its body was long and sinuous like a primordial serpent, scales layered in overlapping plates of deep indigo and silver, each one veined with faint lightning that pulsed like a heartbeat. When it coiled, the air tightened around it, heavy with ozone and prophecy.
From its spine rose vast wings — not leathery like a dragon's, but feathered in luminous white, each plume tipped in electric blue. The feathers shimmered like moonlight on restless water, yet between them flickered thin arcs of lightning, snapping softly as if whispering secrets of the storm.
Its head bore a crown of swept-back horns, smooth and spiraled like polished ivory. Between them burned eyes of molten gold, slit-pupiled and ancient. They did not glare — they judged. To meet its gaze was to hear distant thunder rolling behind your thoughts.
When the Seraphex inhaled, clouds gathered. When it exhaled, thunder answered.
From its elongated jaws extended elegant fangs that dripped not venom, but condensed electricity — each drop striking the earth in a flash of blinding white. Yet despite such terrible power, there was something almost sacred in its presence. Its call was not a roar, but a deep, resonant sound — like a dove's coo stretched across the heavens and amplified into rolling thunder.
It moved without sound until it chose otherwise. One slow beat of its radiant wings could shatter silence into a sonic wave. One tightening coil could summon a spiraling tempest.
And when it claimed the sky entirely, it would wrap its immense body into a circle among the clouds, forming a living halo of storm. Lightning would dance along its scales. Thunder would kneel beneath it.
For the Tempest Seraphex was not merely a creature of thunder.
It was the breath between lightning and sound. The calm before ruin. The sacred coil of the storm itself.
Silver, however, was completely dazed by what he saw. Having grown up poorly, he had never known that someone could possess two entirely different abilities. This was far beyond anything his imagination had ever conjured.
Now he truly understood: Thunderlord was out for his blood.
"F*#k… she really wants to kill me," Silver muttered under his breath, panic tightening his chest. "Here I was, thinking she was being… nice."
Misfortune clung to him like a second skin that day. Unwittingly, he had stumbled into the territory of another terrifying beast—one even more powerful than the Seraphex.
Thunderlord had followed him here, yet none of them realized how precarious their situation had become.
Just as Silver began to turn, ready to flee, the ground shivered beneath him. A sound like molten rock cracking split the air—a sound that made the very bones of the earth quiver. It was not the Seraphex.
From the shadows of a jagged cliff, a colossal figure emerged. Feathers of molten gold and burning crimson shimmered like fire caught in a whirlwind. Its wings were massive, each beat stirring the air into roaring gusts that carried the scent of smoke and brimstone. Eyes like molten coals pierced the horizon, unblinking, unrelenting, and ancient. Every step it took left the ground scorched, every movement a promise of cataclysm.
It circled above, wings slicing through clouds of ash, feathers trailing sparks like falling stars. The fire that clung to its body did not consume it; it was alive, aware, and thrumming with feral intelligence. Even from a distance, its presence radiated raw, primal power, suffocating Silver's courage with a tangible weight.
Then, with a voice that shattered the air itself, it roared:
"ROAR"