The battles raged like unrelenting storms - fire against root, ice against light - for two grueling days and nights.
Neither side had retreated.
Neither side had surrendered.
The world itself seemed to suffer - forests burned only to be regrown, rivers froze only to be thawed. The very elements clashed like they were at war with each other.
And yet... even the strongest forces have their limits.
_ _ _
Arson's flames, once fierce and unforgiving, were now flickering - his once roaring infernos reduced to burning embers.
His molten-red skin shimmered with sweat, his breaths ragged.
Sylvia's vines, once thick and unyielding, had begun to wither - her once-vibrant green aura dimmed as exhaustion overtook her.
Their generals, too, were struggling:
Blaze's fire strikes were slower now, his flames not as fierce, his body weakened.
Thorne's roots grew thinner, his control over the land less powerful, his energy drained.
Scoria stumbled as her molten attacks barely formed, each blast weaker than the last.
Ivy's vines unraveled too easily, her strength clearly fading.
Yet... no one backed down.
Even as they swayed on their feet, glaring at one another across the charred, half-regrown battlefield - they fought.
Sylvia summoned one more vine.
Arson threw one more flame.
And still - the battle dragged on.
But then...
A sudden wave of purple energy rippled across the field.
The air shimmered - twisting and bending like reality itself was warping.
Before either side could react - the Psychic Tribe appeared.
Led by their elusive leader, Princess Zephyr - a tall figure with glowing violet eyes and silver markings running down her lavender skin, the Psychic Tribe had been watching from afar, waiting.
Waiting for both sides to exhaust themselves.
And now... the moment had come.
Zephyr's voice echoed in their minds, soft but menacing:
"You burn... you grow... but now you will fall."
With a simple flick of her wrist - an invisible force exploded.
The weakened warriors of both tribes - Magma and Nature - were thrown off their feet.
Sylvia gasped as an unseen force crushed her to the ground.
Arson roared, trying to ignite flames, but his fire fizzled out - smothered by Zephyr's psychic grip.
One by one, their exhausted generals were pinned down by telekinetic power - paralyzed, helpless.
And then, with another flick of Zephyr's hand...
A cage of pure psychic energy materialized.
Glowing purple bars formed a small, unyielding prison.
And before either could react - Arson and Sylvia were forced inside the same tiny cage.
Their tribes were left helpless - weakened, too drained to fight back.
The last thing Arson saw was Zephyr's cold smile.
The last thing Sylvia heard was Zephyr's voice in her mind:
"Rest now, rulers... the Psychic Tribe will claim what you could not."
Meanwhile...
On the other side of the war-torn lands, the battle between Glacius and Peggy had reached its breaking point.
The frozen rivers had thawed and refrozen more times than either could count.
Glacius' once-sharp ice was duller now - his frozen blasts smaller, his frost slower.
Peggy's light, once blinding, now flickered like a candle - her glowing wings dimmed, her magic fainter.
Their warriors stumbled through the icy battlefield:
Drake's frozen blade swung weakly - the ice cracking with each strike.
Dave's orbs of light faltered, their shine duller, his magic fading fast.
Frysta's icy winds were no longer howling storms - just bitter gusts.
Veronica's glowing defenses flickered like broken stars, barely shielding her allies.
But no one stopped.
Even with their bodies shaking from exhaustion - even with the cold and light battling for dominance - they refused to surrender.
Glacius' frost still spread.
Peggy's light still burned.
Until...
A deafening crack of thunder split the sky.
The air rippled - bolts of lightning striking the ground like falling stars.
Before either leader could process what was happening...
The Thunder Tribe attacked.
Their ruler, Lord Raiden, surged forward - his towering form crackling with raw electricity, his lightning-orange skin glowing with unrelenting power.
"Your fight ends now." His voice was like rolling thunder.
Before Glacius or Peggy could react, bolts of lightning struck both armies.
The Ice Tribe's warriors stumbled, their already weakened bodies spasming under the electric assault.
The Fairy Tribe's soldiers screamed as sudden jolts of power shot through their wings - sending them crashing to the ground.
And at the center of it all...
Glacius' frozen power clashed violently with Raiden's lightning - a storm of ice and electricity roaring across the battlefield.
Peggy's glowing light struggled to push back against the flashing bolts - her magic faltering under the overwhelming assault.
It wasn't a battle.
It was a massacre.
_ _ _
Within minutes...
The Thunder Tribe's cage descended - glowing with electric currents.
And before either leader could counter...
Glacius and Peggy were thrown into the a cramped cage - trapped together.
_ _ _
And Now...
On one side - Arson and Sylvia leaned shoulder to shoulder in their psychic cage, barely able to move as Zephyr's tribe were transporting them as prisoners.
On the other side - Glacius and Peggy were imprisoned by electricity, forced into a too-small space, Raiden and his warriors already advancing keeping them as captives.
For the first time...
The four leaders - who had been locked in battles of element and belief - found themselves stripped of their power.
No more flames.
No more vines.
No more frost.
No more light.
Just four rulers, exhausted and imprisoned - their tribes left shattered.
And their enemies...transporting them as prisoners.
Darkness.
That was the first thing they noticed.
Not the grand expanse of battlefields - not the glow of flames or the shimmer of ice , just darkness and the rhythmic creak of wooden wheels grinding against rough terrain.
Both trailers, covered in thick cloth, shielded their captured leaders from the world.