The temple shuddered.

It was faint, almost imperceptible to those not attuned to the flow of essence in the world, but to the five leaders, it was as clear as the tolling of a bell. A pulse of power, raw and primal, rippled through the very foundations of the citadel. Seraphiel’s wings flared wide as her eyes widened in realization. The others looked toward the horizon, their expressions darkening.

Zerathiel was on his feet in an instant, hand on his blade, while Gorak sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring.

“Tribulation,” Elandor whispered, his voice barely audible over the hum of power.

A sudden stillness washed over the council as they all felt it—the crackle of divine energy in the air. Far to the north, a wave of unimaginable force was gathering. It was a power that sent shivers down their spines, one they hadn’t felt in eons.

“That... can’t be possible,” Thurak muttered. “It’s... already undergoing tribulation?”

Zerathiel’s voice was grim. “The same power we felt a week ago. It’s evolving again.”

Gorak’s fists clenched, his voice filled with anticipation. “Damn thing’s growing fast.”

Seraphiel, usually calm and collected, spoke with uncharacteristic urgency. “If this creature survives the tribulation... it will be beyond our control.”

Elandor’s face, usually serene, was drawn with concern. “A monster that grows this quickly... If it reaches the Second Stage in a week, how long before it reaches the Third? Or Even The Sixth? No-no, a monster like this? It will break-much less challenge- the balance of the world.”

“Not to mention,” Seraphiel sensed, and analyzed the essence of the power. Her voice trembled as the weight of the realization settled on her shoulders. "An essence of destruction," she whispered, her celestial eyes narrowing with fear.

The atmosphere in the chamber grew thick as her wings shifted, a rare sign of her unease. Her golden gaze darted to each of the leaders before her, and in the silence that followed, the tension escalated to an unbearable height.

“A monster chosen by a Titan?” Thurak Stonefist grunted, his hand tightening into a fist against the table. “That’s impossible. Titans haven’t chosen anything since the dawn of the First Age.”

“Yet the essence is undeniable,” Seraphiel insisted. “I’ve felt nothing like it since the Time of the First Betrayal.” Her words echoed through the chamber like a hammer striking iron. The realization sent ripples of fear across the faces of the others, each one understanding the gravity of what she meant.

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“But... destruction?” Elandor’s usually calm voice wavered as his elven eyes gleamed with cold intelligence. “There is only one Titan tied to such a force.”

The room fell silent, each leader unwilling to speak the name. But the image loomed over them like a dark storm cloud. The First Titan. The oldest, most feared of all—the Titan of Destruction. The being responsible for countless cataclysms that had nearly torn their world apart in ages long forgotten.

“It cannot be...” Zerathiel’s steel-blue eyes darkened with the weight of the revelation. His voice was laced with disbelief, but the energy rippling across the room left no room for denial. “The First Titan vanished millennia ago. Sealed, exiled. No mortal could withstand inheriting that kind of power.”

“And yet here we are,” Elandor whispered. “A creature—a mere monster—is rising under its influence. No ordinary being could trigger such tribulation, nor survive it.”

Zerathiel leaned forward, his expression hardening. “If this is true... If that Titan has chosen a successor—then this is not a threat we can watch passively. We need to eliminate it. Now.”

Gorak slammed his fist into the table, the force of the blow reverberating through the chamber. “And how do you propose we kill something blessed by destruction itself? Even our Avatars would be hard-pressed against a monster growing at this rate!”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Each leader bore the weight of their own history, their own legacy. For centuries, they had managed to stave off wars and cataclysms with tenuous peace. But this? This was a force they couldn’t control. It was raw, primal, and—worst of all—inevitable.

Elandor’s sharp green eyes flickered with hesitation. “We might be facing annihilation on a scale unseen since the birth of our realms. We’ve fought against each other, against gods, and even against demons. But The Titan of Destruction? If this monster truly inherits its power, there may be no force in this world capable of stopping it.”

Zerathiel’s tone was cold and commanding, his leadership shining through the haze of panic. “We will stop it. We don’t have the luxury of hesitation. We act now, or we allow this thing to grow until it’s too late.”

“And do what?” Gorak growled. “Send our armies to the Badlands? To what end? Throwing bodies at a creature tied to destruction will only serve to fuel it further. You know this as well as I do.”

Seraphiel spoke again, her voice low but firm. “The balance of our world has already shifted. If we fail to act... it will tip entirely. The Five Avatars must intervene. They are the only ones capable of holding the line.”

“But even the Avatars—” Thurak began, but was quickly cut off.

“They are our best hope,” Seraphiel countered. “The Avatars of our races were chosen to act when the balance of the world is at stake. This is exactly what they were made for.”

Zerathiel stood, his armor gleaming under the temple’s light. “Agreed. We send the Avatars. Immediately. We must stop this monster before it grows any further.”

“All In Favour?”

The council, once divided, now shared a collective dread. Their course was clear.

The Council of Kings had made their decision.

“Ready the Portals. And, Summon Your Avatars.” Seraphiel muttered, fear evident in her voice. “Set course to the Badlands.”