Thunder cracked across the heavens.
The Lord of the Thunder Kingdom surged into action, a figure of defiance against the apocalyptic boulder descending from the skies. He leapt into the air, wielding Thor's Hammer, his gaze locked on the mountainous threat. In that instant, he was no mere mortal; he was a force of nature.
With a roar that shook the heavens, he unleashed the mightiest strike of his life. Lightning converged at the hammer's core, an ocean of thunderous power roaring to life. The air crackled, splitting as the divine wrath of the hammer descended upon the world-destroying boulder.
For a fleeting moment, he was the incarnation of a Thunder God, his presence unmatched, his power boundless.
"He's done it! His Majesty has taken action!"
"Yes! There's hope yet! The Lord of the Thunder Kingdom will save us all!"
"Thor's Hammer is supreme! No mere boulder, no matter how destructive, can withstand His Majesty's strike!"
"He'll shatter it in one blow! He must!"
The voices of the masses swelled in desperate hope. Their king, Wu Yong, had achieved countless feats before, each one a legend in its own right. To destroy this apocalyptic boulder was impossible—for anyone but him.
They believed, for had he not made the impossible possible time and time again?
But belief shattered as reality struck.
The hammer's devastating force connected, thunder exploding like a celestial symphony, but the boulder remained. A small crack, a scatter of rubble—that was all.
Wu Yong's eyes widened in disbelief. His power, his mastery of lightning, his greatest blow—and yet, this monstrous boulder remained nearly untouched.
"How… how can this be?" he murmured, voice trembling. "Why is it so unyielding?!"
The boulder's material was unlike anything he had ever encountered. Not even meteorite iron could compare to its density and hardness. What he had assumed to be merely another challenge was a force beyond comprehension.
In truth, this was no ordinary stone. It hailed from a world of grander proportions, a realm where materials dwarfed their miniature-world counterparts in both size and density. His strike was monumental, but against such a colossal force, it was as insignificant as a candle against a storm.
The boulder did not stop.
It continued its relentless descent, indifferent to the defiance of the Thunder Lord. It was like watching a mortal attempt to halt the fall of a planet—a futile struggle against the inevitable.
Despair seeped into Wu Yong's heart. The weight of heaven's wrath bore down on him, crushing his once-unyielding spirit. He was a hero, yes, but even heroes had their limits.
"If only… if only I had known Tang Guo had the protection of the Ancient Gods…" He clenched his fists, regret stabbing deep into his soul. "I would never have provoked them… never."
But regret was a bitter medicine that came too late.
"No!" His voice erupted in a guttural roar. "I am the Lord of the Thunder Kingdom! I have conquered fifty nations, expanded my lands, and forged my legend in blood and thunder! I am invincible!"
His eyes blazed with defiance. "If the heavens wish to end me, then I will defy the heavens themselves! You hear me, gods? You dream if you think I'll fall so easily!"
Yet, even as his voice carried across the skies, the truth was clear. His power was spent, his strength insufficient. The might of the Ancient Gods and their apocalyptic boulder was beyond him.
Thunder roared one final time as the massive boulder descended. The heavens did not answer, nor did they need to.
In the next moment, the world-destroying boulder fell.
It descended like the wrath of heaven, crashing into the earth with a force that defied comprehension. The impact obliterated everything in its path. The Lord of the Thunder Kingdom, his armies, his dreams of conquest—nothing remained.
In an instant, their forms were reduced to pulp, their existence wiped from history. Not even the intervention of gods could salvage them now.
Boom!
The ground beneath the colossal boulder gave way, groaning under the impossible weight. A deafening roar erupted, as if the world itself cried out in anguish. The land quaked violently, as though caught in the throes of a magnitude eight earthquake.
Hundreds of miles trembled.
The earth split apart, vast chasms tearing across the landscape like the scars of an enraged deity. A crater of unimaginable size formed at the impact site—a pit so deep it seemed to pierce the bowels of the earth. The surrounding terrain, once dotted with mountains and forests, was reduced to rubble.
From the center of the devastation, cracks radiated outward like veins of destruction, plunging into unseen depths. Smoke and dust billowed into the sky, obscuring the sun and shrouding the world in a suffocating haze.
The scene was apocalyptic.
Dozens of miles were veiled in darkness, the air thick with ash and debris. The shockwaves carried the echoes of annihilation, flattening everything in their wake. Forests were splintered into kindling, rocks shattered into dust, and rivers diverted as if the world itself recoiled from the destruction.
It was no longer a battlefield—it was a graveyard.
Silence followed the storm.