An invisible force began to warp the giant tree from within. The once-straight trunk twisted into grotesque, rope-like spirals. Its smooth, white bark darkened into a deep, blood-red hue, and grotesque bulges sprouted along its length.
In moments, the pristine, sacred tree had completely transformed, no longer a symbol of life, but a nightmarish claw reaching out from the earth. That claw was wrapped in fleshy, sinewy vines, each one budding with blood-red leaves and blooming with eerie, black blossoms.
Even more horrifying, the veins in those leaves and flowers pulsed faintly, as if blood were flowing through them.
As the Tree of Life's mental domain twisted into corruption, its physical form followed suit.
And not just the trunk and canopy, its vast root system, buried deep underground, began to stir, newly awakened and twisting violently.
When Lucius withdrew from the spiritual plane, he found that although the tree didn't appear massive from above ground, its roots extended down endlessly, as if boring straight into the planet's core.
Compared to those subterranean roots, the visible part of the tree was less than a billionth of its total size.
Having compressed his Leviathan form, Lucius began descending along the roots, traveling downward an unimaginable distance until he reached the very bottom.
There, the roots pierced into a shimmering golden energy source.
This energy resembled the golden aura wielded by those blessed by Arceus in the original world, but far weaker. Here, the golden light was faded, its brilliance dimmed, like a dying flame.
Was this the residual power of the world's creator deity...?
This planet was on the verge of death. The energy of its creator god had all but faded. If the golden power in the original world surged like a vast, endless ocean, then here it resembled a lake nearly drained.
But for Lucius, that wasn't a problem, it was an opportunity.
Unlike the tree that once symbolized the god of life, this golden energy still harbored a flicker of consciousness.
It was the will of the planet itself. Barely alive, yet still there.
When a planet loses its solar energy, it's like a human losing air. It might twitch a few more times, but death is inevitable.
Since you're dying... let me take your place.
Lucius plunged his true form, Leviathan, into the golden energy, greedily absorbing it.
Even in its faded state, this golden essence, born from the heart of a world, was far more potent than any individual being.
As his body soaked in it, Leviathan's scales took on a quality both profound and radiant, like they'd been forged from the condensation of limitless power.
Following the energy's flow, Lucius discovered faint traces of life, beings hiding in the planet's farthest corners, struggling to survive.
They too relied on the golden essence, clinging to life as it extended fragile lifelines across the world like an invisible web.
Lucius followed these threads, seeking out every last survivor.
Some were isolated human hermits. Most, however, were formidable Pokémon, species like Blacephalon, Guzzlord, and the others.
They possessed incredible strength, but in a world stripped of resources and plagued by extinction, even they could only survive by feeding off the planet's will, waiting, hopelessly, for a savior.
Well, I've already killed your so-called savior. Might as well take over the job.
Lucius sighed and injected his virus into the bodies of these powerful Pokémon.
Compared to the Pokémon of the original world, the ones here held genetic sequences even more valuable to his current evolution.
One by one, as the surviving life forms fell to infection, Lucius' grip on this world deepened. Only one final step remained before total conquest:
Replacing the planet's will.
Ordinarily, this would require outright annihilation, but Lucius wasn't ordinary. He was a virus. Victory didn't mean confrontation, it meant infection, assimilation.
Leviathan continued to drift through the golden sea, releasing a swarm of viruses, Progenitor Virus, Veronica: Mindworm Form, Mental Parasite, and others, into the energy stream. They flowed outward, riding the planet's life force like blood in arteries, spreading across every molecule of the world.
Meanwhile, Lucius entangled his own consciousness with that of the planetary will, slowly fusing with it.
Back on the surface, the last human enclaves stirred in confusion, whispering urgently to one another.
Because they had just seen the impossible:
Tiny, dark-red plants were sprouting from the ground.
They weren't the vibrant green described in ancient texts, but in a world this dead, the appearance of any plant was a miracle.
The planet… was coming back to life.
Lucius had infected the very core of the world. Using the vast genetic data stored in his hexagonal Hive structure, his virus reshaped the DNA to suit this dying world, resurrecting life in forms it could now sustain.
As he absorbed the last of the golden energy, the planetary will finally vanished.
In its place stood Lucius.
His Leviathan form had become the new heart of the planet, the new creator deity.
[Congratulations. You have achieved 100% world assimilation. This world is now designated as a World Base.]
[Congratulations, Host. You've completed the 'Establish a World Base' mission ahead of schedule. Reward: Title — 'The Dominator.']
The system message rang out again.
"System, what does the title 'The Dominator' do?"
[A being bearing the title 'Dominator' may modify world parameters at will and possesses absolute authority over the assimilated world]
[Note: As the population and consciousness of individual lifeforms grow, the Dominator's control will proportionally weaken.]
So that's how it worked—modifying world parameters. That much made sense.
Now that Lucius controlled the world absolutely, he could change anything: the speed of planetary rotation, atmospheric composition, the taste of food, even make the wind smell like perfume… or cause humans to grow a third leg, if he so chose.
Of course, every change came with consequences. Some might be small, like cracking open the land to form a lake. Others could be catastrophic, like halting planetary rotation entirely.
Even if the world stopped spinning for just one second, all life could be wiped out, and he alone held that power.
But that footnote intrigued him.
As more life forms were born, their individual wills would gradually erode his absolute control. Just like Arceus, whose dominion over the original world was only 40%. Life itself would dilute the Dominator's authority.
That was why Arceus had weakened after creating so many Pokémon, and why Giratina sought to replace Him.
And from the looks of it, Giratina hadn't needed to destroy Arceus at all.
What it wanted… was to devour Him.
To take His place.
That's also why it hadn't summoned the other legendary Pokémon to gang up on Arceus, because it wasn't conquest Giratina sought…
…it was succession.
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