Backstory

Every monarchy has a final form. The Royal Rooster’s is the Prime: the same crown, the same flock, but amplified in every direction that matters. The crown emits lightning now — small arcs that crackle between the feathers and make the court photographer deeply uncomfortable. Nobody at the palace knows where the lightning comes from. Nobody at the palace asks. Royal etiquette has a rule for this, and the rule is: don’t.

The kingdom is overdue on its taxes. The kingdom is you. The Prime has kept a ledger for generations, and it has never once been balanced, because the Prime has never once been paid. It did not come for your farm out of hunger, or anger, or even ambition. It came for collection, and it is very, very patient about collection.

It is the 100x HP variant of the monarch — the same rooster, backed by an entire kingdom’s worth of stubbornness. Its subjects swarm, its aura buoys them higher, and its crown keeps crackling. Every field manual that mentions it ends the same way, in the largest type available: bring your strongest towers.