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Celestial Dominion Monarch

For ten thousand years, the world of Aetherion has lived under the shadow of a myth: the Last Palace, an eternal seat of power no living soul has seen, and the sovereign who planted a colossal blade — the Mandate — into the heart of the planet to impose order on chaos. They call him the Celestial Dominion Monarch. They whisper his true name only in terror or desperation: Lucian Thaloryn. Most believe he is legend, a tale told to frighten ambitious sect masters and arrogant kings. The Seven High Sects rule continents, kingdoms pay tribute, and cultivators climb the Ladder of Dominion — from Ember Vein to the unreachable peaks — never suspecting their entire system was once forced upon a wild cosmos by one man’s will. But the cosmos remembers. Ancient primordials, beings who once warred across shattered realms and lost to Lucian, have waited ten millennia in the outer dark. Now they probe — subtle tears in the sky, whispers of rebellion, foreign qi that does not belong. They do not dare confront him directly. Not yet. They erode from the edges, testing the seams of the Ladder, tempting the arrogant, corrupting the ley lines. At the frontier outpost of Ashfall, a frightened boy speaks the forbidden name in rage. Thunder answers. In the hidden heart of the Last Palace, Lucian Thaloryn opens his eyes for the first time in centuries. Beside him sits Valeria, his eternal consort, the only one who shares his silence. Their twelve heirs — each a terrifying force in their own right — begin to stir. The Mandate sword, unmoved for ten thousand years, brightens ever so slightly along its runes. The world has forgotten obedience. The sects have grown proud. The primordials have begun to scheme. And the emperor who ended the age of chaos has not forgotten how to remind them who still rules. A slow-burn epic of imperial majesty, cosmic dread, family burden, and the loneliness of absolute power. When the Mandate finally stirs… the heavens themselves will kneel.
Luminish · 0 Views

Marvel: God of Spotlight, The Homelander

"I am not Superman. I am Homelander." The whisper was an internal prayer, a caustic reassurance. Outside the glass tower, the world saw only the Homelander, the Icon, the Man Who Flew the Bomb. They saw the perfect, smiling face of the hero who, in the chaos of the Battle of New York, carried a nuclear warhead through the wormhole and saved a city. The cheers from the streets below—the deafening, worldwide adoration—were the fuel for his ascension. He was crowned their king, a savior in star-spangled spandex. In this new reality, fame wasn't just influence; it was power. He had a system now: the Superstar System. The higher the popularity, the stronger the abilities. It was a viciously simple contract, one he embraced completely. "Matt," he purred into the spotlight, curing the blind lawyer's eyes on live television. "Your city needs an icon, not a devil. Let the light in." He assembled his own team—a perfectly marketed, perfectly managed Super Seven—with Spider-Man now running PR and Daredevil as his reformed protégé. Every action was a performance; every enemy, a prop. When the news of a purple alien named Thanos reached his gilded penthouse, Azu smiled, a blinding, dangerous flash for the cameras. "Thanos," he murmured, the adoration of billions surging through his veins, making his skin feel like charged steel. His eyes flared with a dazzling red light that promised annihilation. "I heard you're going to wipe out half of my fans?" He was trapped in the Marvel universe, now its most powerful celebrity. And the show had only just begun.
HeroicVerse · 287.8k Views