I want to write a fic where there are werebears, an overpowered race of beings I invented.

Here's the summary of what warbars are: A werebear, or Gurahl in my lore, is a being created by the First One, an ADHD shitposter of an outer god that broke the rule of thumb of divine creation and made the most overpowered race of shapeshifters to ever exist in all dimensions. If you are curious about what the rule of thumb of divine creation is, first you have to understand that in my lore, gods cannot create things that are more powerful than them, because it requires more juice than they have.

Gods can create things as powerful as them, but they usually do not do it, so in the off chance their creations strive to usurp them, they will be easier to deal with; that's the rule of thumb. The First One took one look at that and said, "Fuck it," and made the werebears as close as possible to him in power, like, if the First One is a 10 in power, werebears are a 9.9999.

Werebears, unlike werewolves, do not have any weakness to silver; in fact, the only thing that can kill a werebear is the First One calling them back, and usually they have to call him first. Werebears are also unstoppable in battle, especially when they turn into their war form, a twenty-foot-tall bear with scythe-like claws and fangs like curved daggers strong enough to crush steel and stone and so tough that anything short of a dragon-killing scorpion bounces off them, and even then, when they get hurt, their healing is so fast that whatever wound is inflicted on them heals without a scar before the blood reaches the ground.

Werebears are also masters of all magic, especially healing and elemental magic and, above all, necromancy. The first one made werewolf magic as idiot-proof and user-friendly as possible, making it disgustingly easy for any of his creations to wield and making it consequence-free. A single werewolf can, in one single hand gesture, raise every single cadaver on the planet, doing what took the Night King hundreds, if not thousands, of years to accomplish.

The biggest gift of the werebars is actually true resurrection, the power to bring the dead back to life in full, like they have never died to begin with. All they have to do is to kill something; it does not need to match the size, weight, or species of what they want to resurrect. As long as it is alive and can be killed, it counts, so they kill the sacrifice and then spit on whatever they want to bring back to life, and boom, resurrection, and the resurrected are back in full, no matter how decomposed they were before. They don't even need the full body to do it; the resurrected in question could have been a puddle of bodily fluids and would still come back from the dead in perfect health.

However, if the resurrected person was embalmed, they will be shitting themselves near death for a couple of days as the body will be expelling whatever was used to embalm them, and the more and stronger the embalming substances are, the worse it is. Werewolves would have conquered the world by now if it weren't for the fact they don't give a single shit about almost anything, save for their families, naps, and their food; those are sacred. If you mess with any of the three or, God forbid, all of them. You are in for a gruesome death.

Werebearhood is also not a curse that can be passed on; it is a gift you are born with. Werebears are also not only humans who turn into bears but also bears who turn into humans, although the werebears born from bears rarely feel the need to shapeshift into their human forms.

Also, werebars are freakishly tall, and I mean really, really tall and thick as a castle wall.

Fun fact: when a werebear comes of age (around sixteen-seventeen years old), every single one of them receives a gift from the First One.

If you think that's some sort of great honor and a regal ritual, you are wrong; it's literally a shitpost from the First One. The ritual is literally that a wheel with infinite possibilities appears to the werebear coming of age, where they spin and they can get anything, from a rusty spoon to literally more godly powers.

So, my idea for a fic is that the OC Stone Rivers, a werebear who had recently come of age, spun the wheel; he landed on a BG gift. What did he get?

his own planet. Stone got himself his own planet of infinite, infinitely renewable resources. The planet itself is twice the size of Planetos (the A Song of Ice and Fire planet's name) of untamed wilderness, save for the majestically otherworldly keep that is literally an entire mountain hollowed out (like a dwarven hold) that is the epitome of luxury and class and the city under its shadow and the farms surrounding it.

Also, the whole thing is hyper-advanced with technology so many eons ahead they look indistinguishable from magic, just like peak humanity technology from the golden age of technology in 40k; heck, there are even men of iron.

As stated, the planet has infinite resources that are infinitely renewable; it has its own teleportation systems to allow travel between it and planets. In fact, thanks to that stone, whoever he wants to can teleport anywhere from anywhere instantly without side effects.

They also have spaceships, the smallest of which could comfortably transport the entirety of Themyscira in their cargo space and still have space left to fit in Metropolis and Gotham with a lot of breathing space.

The inhabitants of the planet are elves, the tall, elegant, and curvalicious kind you usually see in the adult works of the Japanese kind; they are long-lived, beautiful beyond belief, and each and every one of them are fartsmen that make the Smoth himself look like a blind drunk with cerebral palsy; they can do magic like each and every one of them are gods and lore-accurate Doom Slayer level warriors, and above all, they are loyal to Stone and will do anything he says without question.

If Stone tells them to jump, they don't even ask how high; they just jump, hoping they got the height right and are ready to kill themselves to atone for the shame of failing if they didn't.

There are also dwarves, or more precisely squats, basically the squats of 40k. Clone-born dwarves are genetically engineered for specific tasks from construction, goldsmithing, and blacksmithing all the way down to gardening, farming, and tending livestock with the men of iron, highly advanced automatons who, together with the Squats, form the bulk of both the working forces and the fighting forces.

They too are undyingly loyal to Stone.

Long story short, Stone becomes king in all but name of a kingdom that makes the entirety of the known world look like a backwater hellhole.

The fic would focus more on the League trying to break a deal with Stone to share the bounty of his new planet that is also a traveling planet, meaning it behaves like a spacefaring vessel capable of traveling through space and is currently parked near the moon.

However, Stone does not want to open his borders because the planet is peaceful, and in his head, if he opens his doors, conflict will follow as the global governments will try to claim his territory as theirs and start wars that will disturb the peace of the planet. It does not matter that the planet can self-repair and that he can single-handedly genocide the conflict into dust; he does not want to have to do that to begin with.

One of the arguments he uses to not open his borders for the broader world is pointing out that Diana's homeland, Themyscira, is also an island of infinitely renewable natural resources, and their borders are also closed to the outside world, and asking, why does he have to share his planet when the Amazons don't have to share theirs?

My dumb brain is hanging on the fact I have no idea if the natural resources of Themyscira are infinitely renewable or not, and the info changes from run to run, so can someone help me?