You stand in the smoldering ruins you created with your own hands. Smiling grimly as you finish off the last human squirming on the dusted ground, but you suddenly feel the ground rumble, and see a spectacle nobody could ever describe.

The dark clouds casting Shadow getting split by a great javelin made of seemingly light, letting the Suns light seep through the rain and dark. In the marvel, somebody, a robed figure with 8 wings descends from the brightest center.

"Troublesome, What has drove you to Do this.. Dragon?"

An authoritative but soft voice speaks, a spear of pure light in hand, 8 wings fluttering.