Standing bulked in armor atop a cliff next to the clouds, the King of all, stares down at his army. The sky is blue and his eyes are gleaming with ambition. His men can see it. A yellow glow in his eyes that shines on them, brighter than the sun. A beard long, with the hair on his head even longer, rubbing across his shoulders with the zealous breeze of the gods. 

The darkness in his aura, hair and leather armor brings fear to every corner of the world. The spear he takes support of, is covered in the enemies' blood at the tip. There is no emotion on his face; nothing of him remains, and yet, the world is his. The sun lowers with the passing of time and centers his spearhead. The sun is in his power, and his final battle is won. 

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Standing perfectly straight, he lifts up his red spear slowly, into the sky. The earth rumbles, the sky rejoices, as his army roars across the kingdoms. An army covered in iron, that extends beyond the horizon. An army, under the King's command. All that rejoice, show their respect through voice and action. Some beat their weapons on the ground while some yell at the sight of victory. All kingdoms, united under one banner.

United, under the Innumerabilis. The uncountable. The innumerable.