The Arena of Epiphany was silent, save for the crackle of residual lightning and the hiss of smoldering fire.

The very air was thick with tension, a palpable weight that pressed down on all of the souls watching across the multiverse.

In the center of the ruined, crater-filled battlefield, two figures stood, or rather, hovered, their bodies a testament to the brutal, drawn-out war they had just waged.

Lifeform5746: "Volthrax is going to win, isn't he? He's a true dragon, the apex of evolution. This is just natural selection."

Lifeform15632: "But you're forgetting, that's his father. Thalorax is the King of the Dragonborn, the first son of Lady Nova! This is a battle of legacy!"

Lifeform16371: "So what? I surpassed my father centuries ago. It's all about talent and race, and Volthrax has the advantage in both."

Lifeform16378: "Exactly! And Thalorax is just one of the first Dragonborn, born from the blood of a demigod. Volthrax is a true, natural-born dragon, a being of pure power."

Lifeform2673: "Can you all just shut up?! I can't concentrate on the fight! This is legendary!"

The lifeforms finally stopped their frantic typing, their collective gaze locked on the two battered champions.

The arena was a ruin, a testament to their destructive power. The ground was a web of massive cracks, some so deep they seemed to plunge into the void itself.

Rivers of cooling lava, remnants of Volthrax's earlier attacks, crisscrossed the landscape.

The very air was warped, shimmering with spatial distortions from Thalorax's constant space attacks and the lingering sparkle from divine lightning.

Both fighters were a wreck. Thalorax's proud, obsidian-scaled body was bruised and bleeding, his left arm completely gone, torn from his socket in a brutal exchange.

Volthrax, his massive draconic form, was in no better shape. His long, powerful tail had been severed at the base, his shimmering scales were cracked and scorched, and several of his teeth were missing, shattered by Thalorax's unyielding fists.

"Haah… Haah…" Both combatants gasped, their breaths heavy and ragged. Every movement was now an agony, a monumental effort of will.

"Why don't you just surrender, father?" Volthrax's voice rumbled, a deep, exhausted growl that was half-taunt, half-genuine concern. "You look… pitiful."

"Haha…" A harsh laugh erupted from Thalorax. "You sure talk big for someone who looks worse than me. Where is that magnificent tail you were so proud of, boy? And those teeth? Those beautiful scales?" Thalorax laughed again, a raw, defiant sound that echoed in the broken arena.

He felt the intense, throbbing pain from his missing arm, but it was nothing. He had felt worse in his long life. He would not surrender. His pride as a king, as a father, and as the first Dragonborn, would not allow it.

"What about your hand?!" Volthrax retorted, his own pride stung. With a furious roar, he launched himself into the air, his massive, bat-like wings beating a thunderous rhythm.

Thalorax braced himself, his one remaining hand gripping the hilt of his greatsword.

His Absolute Defense was working tirelessly, weaving new flesh and bone where his arm had been, but the regeneration was agonizingly slow. The time was not enough. Volthrax was already upon him.

The great dragon opened his jaws, and a new, terrifying light began to build in the back of his throat.

It was a swirling, chaotic vortex of both fire and lightening, a churning ball of plasma and flame that contained every last drop of mana Volthrax could muster. This was his final, ultimate attack.

Thalorax knew, with absolute certainty, that he could not block it.

His Absolute Defense was already strained, his body battered. This blow would annihilate him.

He had to move, to warp, to escape. But he was exhausted, his mana nearly depleted. He was too slow.

Time seemed to stop for him. His body was frozen, but his mind suddenly accelerated, a gift from his latent 'Quick Decision' talent.

He saw the blast forming, saw the look of agonizing regret in his son's eyes, and his mind raced, discarding and formulating a thousand different solutions in a single, desperate instant.

'I can't lose.'

His thoughts were no longer a plea, but a statement of fact.

'I am the first son of demigod Nova. I am the guardian of Veridia. I am the King of the Dragonborn!'

A new, profound understanding flooded his soul. He was not just a warrior. He was a king. And a king's power was not just in his fists or his sword.

It was in his will. It was his right to rule, his right to declare what was real in his own domain.

As the chaotic blast of fire and lightning finally erupted from Volthrax's jaws, a torrent of pure annihilation lancing towards him, Thalorax's epiphany, born in the crucible of his own son's fury, was complete.

He did not raise his sword. He did not try to teleport. He simply opened his eyes, which now glowed with a new, cold, and absolute authority.

"Stop."

His voice was a calm, simple command. The blast of chaotic energy, a force that could have glassed a continent, did not stop as Thalorax commanded. But its speed, its very progression through space, suddenly slowed to a crawl.

Thalorax looked at the churning, beautiful and deadly blast, now creeping towards him like a snail. And he spoke again.

"Fire cannot burn me. Lightning cannot strike me."

The slow-motion blast finally landed. A colossal, silent boom of pure white light enveloped Thalorax, blinding the entire arena.

Everyone, from the lifeforms to the demigods, shielded their eyes, certain that the King of the Dragonborn had been utterly erased.

Even Volthrax, panting and exhausted, looked on in horror, a scream of "Father!" trapped in his throat.

But as the dust and smoke settled, a figure remained. Thalorax stood in the center of a massive, blackened crater, his armor torn, his body bruised, but utterly, completely, and impossibly unharmed.

The blast had washed over him, splitting around his form like water around a stone, leaving him untouched in a bubble of his own, absolute reality.

[Master, Thalorax has gained a new talent,]

"Yes, Thea," Sunny replied, his voice a low, triumphant whisper. "I can see that. And it is… amazing."

[Talent Name: Sovereign's Domain]

[Grade: SS]

[Description: Creates a personal domain around the talent holder.

You have nearly infinite stamina and mana inside this domain

Within this domain, your will is law. You can slow or stop incoming attacks and conceptually alter the laws of reality as they apply to you.

This talent drains a large amount of soul essence to activate and maintain.]

"Another conceptual talent," Sunny breathed, his heart hammering in his chest.

His Divine Command was a permanent, costly change to reality. This… this was a temporary command that only worked in the domain.

And then, his Divine Intuition, which had been a quiet, insistent whisper for months, screamed at him. This is it. This is the one you have been waiting for.

"So this was the talent you wanted me to find," Sunny asked his intuition, a wave of profound understanding washing over him.

"I don't think it's as overpowered as Divine Command," Sunny mused aloud, "but… oh well." He smiled, his mind made up. "I will listen to you this time."

He closed his eyes. He focused his will, his Skill-Resonance talent activate, and directly guided his will towards Thalorax.

"This one… is mine."

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