Zzzzt~

The colossal gate of the main battleship, positioned at the very heart of the defensive formation, slowly began to open. A wave of blinding white light burst outward, followed by the emergence of nine figures — each stepping out with an aura that rippled through the very air.

Three of them, in particular, possessed a distinct, awe-inspiring energy that separated them from the rest, yet it was the one standing in the middle who drew all attention — the towering and composed presence of Marshal Fargus himself.

Zzzzt~ Zzzzt~

Moments later, the other motherships stationed across the formation followed suit, opening their heavy metallic gates one by one. From within emerged generals, commanders, and every captain who had reached a recognized threshold of power. They all advanced with measured pace, their movements synchronized by silent discipline, until they assembled behind Marshal Fargus.

Their arrangement wasn't perfectly tight — it was scattered, even casual — yet the pressure they emitted was suffocating, like a storm sealed behind glass. Anyone who dared to look upon that handful of men and women, each radiating silent dominance, would instantly realize that facing them in battle was pure madness.

At the forefront stood six individuals — six Nexus States, including Marshal Fargus himself.

Behind them gathered thirty-five World Cataclysms, each one a being capable of rewriting the landscape of war with a single strike.

Their mere arrival, their simple appearance without even the hint of a move, reshaped the entire battlefield.

The atmosphere turned heavy and electric, the stars around them seemed to dim under their combined presence. Countless enemy ships faltered and began retreating to what their captains hoped was a safe distance. Even the aggressive attempts to breach the defensive formation abruptly came to a halt — as if every opposing commander suddenly remembered the meaning of fear.

To face a World Cataclysm head-on with a simple warship was nothing short of suicide.

Perhaps a few of the larger motherships could manage to injure one, but thirty-five?

And in the presence of six Nexus States? That kind of force could crush fleets, planets, and perhaps even hope itself.

Zzzzt~ Zzzzt~

Several of the allied motherships responded in kind. Their own gates opened one after another in a grand, thunderous sequence, releasing more figures, dozens — each surrounded by an energy that tore through the void like a silent storm. One by one, they gathered, forming an organized tide of power behind a single colossal being.

"Haha, Fargus! You've finally decided to show that smug face of yours!"

That was the one — the being around whom the Alliance's World CaTaclysms and Nexus States assembled.

Unlike Fargus, whose appearance carried the calmness of strategy and restraint, this one was raw, primal, and terrifyingly alive. His mere silhouette was enough to shake the battlefield. He stood no less than three meters tall, a giant among warriors. His physique wasn't sculpted like a weapon but carried the density of raw destruction, his broad belly rising and falling like the bellows of a great forge. Yet his enormous arms — thick as pillars — carried the kind of power that could, without doubt, crush planets into dust.

His face was that of a bull, fierce and unrelenting, with a massive metal ring swinging heavily from his nose. Compared to Fargus, who looked almost like a youthful officer fresh from an evening with his beloved at the academy, this one resembled a beast returning from a feast drenched in blood.

"What new calf did Zarion have to put down today?" Fargus's voice was cold and taunting as his eyes met his opponent's. He seemed entirely unbothered by the growing number of powerhouses gathering behind the bull-faced warrior.

"And what gives you the confidence to stand before me as if you're my equal? Have you already forgotten what happened to the last fool who tried?"

"…Even as you stand before death itself, you brag about your past victories," the bull-faced Marshal growled, a deep vibration rumbling through the air with each word. "No matter… no matter at all, Fargus… for tonight—"

his grin widened, revealing thick teeth gleaming like ivory—

"you shall sleep inside my belly!"

MOOOOOOOOOO~~~

The void shook with that thunderous roar.

At the final word, the Marshal of the Allied Forces began to transform, his body expanding outward in waves of dark energy.

No matter how advantageous his position seemed, not even he dared to underestimate Marshal Fargus — nor the overwhelming might of the Secondary Law of Shattering that flowed through him like a divine curse.

In the blink of an eye, his form completed the metamorphosis. He became a colossal bull, coated in a deep, earthen brown hide that radiated brutal strength. Three massive eyes opened along his face, glowing with chaotic energy, and from his skull rose three horns, curved and layered with cosmic markings. Around his enormous body wrapped swirling bands of primordial chaos, glowing like molten ribbons of power that burned through the atmosphere.

From horn to tail, the beast spanned over three hundred meters, and every breath it took sent tremors across the void.

The air itself bent around his form, his presence warping reality — a monstrous bull that looked as though it had risen to challenge the very heavens themselves.

Hoooooooommmmm~~~

A deep, resonant hum rolled across the battlefield like the heartbeat of a slumbering ancient beast.

From behind the Allied Marshal, the void rippled violently — and one by one, dozens of figures began to shift and twist, their bodies warping into monstrous silhouettes.

In only a few moments, ninety-seven World Cataclysms and sixteen Nexus States began to transform simultaneously. Each and every one of them, without exception, revealed their beastly, true forms.

The transformation was a terrifying sight to behold.

Their skin hardened, their bones expanded, and their auras surged upward in explosions of primal energy. In this state, their bodies weren't merely stronger — their blood pulsed with purer essence, their control over the Heavenly Laws became sharper, and their resistance to the void's insanity reached unnatural levels.

For beings of this magnitude, transformation wasn't an option; it was an evolution, the difference between survival and annihilation.

In a final war like this, waiting until the last moment to transform would be a foolish gamble, one that only a naive soldier would make.

"This trick isn't yours alone!" roared one of the generals standing near Marshal Fargus, his voice reverberating like thunder. As his body began to distort, his skin split apart, revealing pulsating light beneath.

"RaaaAAAHHH~~!"

The World Cataclysms and Nexus States under Fargus's command spread out across the sector, each taking their own position in the formation. At the same moment, they too began their metamorphosis.

But unlike their enemies — who each assumed unique, chaotic shapes — Fargus's side transformed as one, unified in both form and essence.

Their new bodies towered high: over 200 meters tall for the Nexus States, and more than 70 meters for the World Cataclysms.

Each became a colossal stone beast, sculpted from cosmic rock and bound by faintly glowing runes.

They had dozens of long, crushing arms and four heavy, grounded legs that radiated the weight of mountains.

At the center of each chest gaped a single, enormous mouth, brimming with jagged, crystalline teeth that shimmered faintly in the starlight.

Across their stony skin were scattered hundreds of tiny, luminous eyes, each one blinking like a distant star, giving the horrifying impression that the universe itself was staring back.

This was no random shape — this was the perfected form of the creature from which Lord Hedrick had drawn the Minor Law of Crumbling for his followers.

They were the guardians of destruction itself.

They were known across the galaxies as—

the Doomsday Wardens.

"...!!"

Their emergence sent waves of terror rippling through the opposing side. Even among the hardened World Cataclysms and the ancient Nexus States, hearts began to tremble.

Anything that stemmed from the Path of Destruction was inherently dreadful, but these beings… these things went beyond fear.

They looked as though they had been torn from the fabric of a nightmare, monstrous relics that had no place in reality.

In mere seconds, that stretch of space transformed into a kingdom of monsters — a theater of gods and beasts.

The clash of fleets continued somewhere far away, the exchange of fire lighting up the cosmos, but both sides knew instinctively to steer clear of that growing storm. Slowly, then completely, that section of the battlefield was cleared of every ship, leaving behind only the titans — World Cataclysm and Nexus States, now facing each other in eerie, silent tension.

The Marshal of the Allied Forces, in his massive beast form, lowered his head. His three burning eyes gleamed like molten suns as he exhaled a breath that made the void itself tremble.

Then, with a deep rumble that shook every soul in the area, he let out a thunderous roar:

"Fargus! Won't you transform as well?! That tiny, fragile body of yours won't even make for an appetizer!"

Fargus's reply came calmly, almost mockingly. His lips curved in a faint smile as his voice carried through the void, calm yet piercing.

"I won't degrade my beautiful form just to look like an ugly brute like you," he said coldly, turning his gaze across the battlefield.

His eyes swept over the faces of his officers and generals, each of them ready to die at his command. He exhaled quietly.

Most of them won't survive this day, he thought, his tone solemn, but they'll die as warriors, not as beasts.

"You still dare to insult me?!" the Allied Marshal bellowed, fury shaking his titanic frame. His voice tore through the air like an explosion.

He threw his colossal head upward and roared with rage:

"KILL Them!!!"

"Now!" Fargus shouted sharply, his tone switching from calm to commanding authority. He turned toward a narrow gap between the warships.

"Move! All of you — now! Go! Now!!"

Whoooosh! Whoooosh! Whoooosh!

Dozens of the Doomsday Wardens abruptly broke from the battle, ignoring their immediate foes. Their massive bodies surged forward in unison, tearing through the void as they escaped from the center of the battlefield, scattering like meteors streaking toward the distant fleets.

"What?!"

The Allied Marshal's killing intent flickered and vanished for a moment, replaced by disbelief. His glowing eyes widened in alarm.

"They're heading for the other fleets attacking the planet! Stop them before they do any damage, the fleets aren't ready to defend themselves! Intercept them, now!"

But before his order could even echo across the comms—

BAAAANG!

The space before him shattered like a mirror struck by a divine hammer, fragments of cosmic glass scattering in all directions.

Through the gleaming cracks of distorted reality, a deep and resonant voice echoed — the unmistakable voice of Marshal Fargus, calm yet filled with unshakable power:

"Not so fast."

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