Mount Vorrath's heart was a place where power accumulated across ages beyond counting.
The Ancestral Pillars rose from stone saturated with Mana so dense that ordinary beings would struggle to breathe here.
One in particular was grand. Its bark was ancient beyond measure, carved by wind and time and the passage of countless generations. Near its peak, the surface curved into a flat platform naturally formed across millennia, a space large enough to hold councils and ceremonies and conversations that would shape the fate of Sacred Mountains.
Masamuk had never felt so small!
His obsidian body trembled slightly despite his best efforts to project calm. The stellar blue points within his form flickered with nervous energy as he faced three Noble Simbas whose combined power could have flattened territories. Their golden fur shimmered in the filtered light, their eyes holding intelligence refined across lifetimes of cultivation and conflict.
