Rank within Vexarian society is not inherited.
It is earned—forged through hunts, ascension, and conquest.
Every male Vexari lived for the hunt. It is through the spilling of essence and the claiming of prey that one climbed the social ladder. Their tentacles, those living records of conquest, are far more than biology—they are the measure of existence itself.
Each kill, each defiance crushed, extended their tentacles in thickness, color, and length. The deeper the shade of crimson-purple, the greater the strength and the prey's will taken—the higher the reverence the hunter commanded.
Tentacle count and color were the twin currencies of status.
At their pinnacle, the mightiest Vexari bore fifty tentacles—the edge of legend.
To reach that number was to stand one breath away from divinity.
At the very base of this hierarchy were the Lower Soldiers, possessing zero to four tentacles.
They were not hunters and could only become one through ascension. Their tentacles grew only during planetary invasions, feeding on the slaughter of weaker prey rather than true hunts.
They patrolled the outer colonies, maintained order, and oversaw the ranches—facilities where captured runners were housed, conditioned, and trained.
These soldiers were the spine of the empire—necessary, loyal, ready to rise through the ranks.
Above them stood the High Soldiers, distinguished by six to eight tentacles.
They served as elite enforcers of nobility, commanding regiments of Lower Soldiers and leading suppression raids across occupied worlds. Their purpose was to maintain planetary control and crush resistance before it could rise.
Yet, for all their might, they too were denied the sacred right of the hunt.
Then came the Command Guards, bearing ten to twelve tentacles.
They were the highest-ranking non-hunters—warriors of immense strength and discipline.
Command Guards oversaw planetary landings, led legions, and enforced the Queen's will with absolute authority.
Their loyalty was legendary, their efficiency unquestioned, but they were still bound to the limitations of their station—They only hunted by ascending in Starter Hunters.
True ascension began with the Starter Hunters.
They too bore ten to twelve tentacles, though many already showed streaks of crimson-purple compared to Command Guards—remnants of early kills achieved in their days as Command Guards.
Stationed aboard the great hunting vessels, they were the newly awakened predators, ready to shed the last vestiges of servitude and embrace their biological awakening.
Above them were the Trophy Hunters, wielding twelve to fourteen tentacles, most already drenched in crimson hues.
These were hunters of renown—those who had slain prey so powerful, so desperate to live, that their essence forever changed the hunter who took it.
Trophy Hunters adorned themselves with relics from their kills—bone, metal, and fragments of armor worn as marks of glory. Their names were whispered with awe among their kin, their presence casting long shadows across the hunting grounds.
Next came the Command Hunters, bearing sixteen to eighteen tentacles.
They ruled operations on a single ranch, overseeing the selection, conditioning, and release of runners.
Though they rarely hunted themselves, they possessed the right to intervene whenever a runner displayed exceptional strength or defiance.
Their mere arrival was enough to silence rebellion. To defy a Command Hunter was to invite annihilation.
Then stood the High Hunters, crowned with eighteen to twenty tentacles.
They commanded entire stasis fleets and governed all ranches across a single planet.
Each High Hunter was a strategist and executioner, responsible for maintaining balance between spectacle and slaughter.
They determined when hunts began, how long they lasted, and which runners would be released.
Their word was final, their judgment absolute.
Above them, the air grew thin with power.
The High Guards, bearing twenty-two to twenty-six tentacles, served as the personal sentinels of the Queen herself.
They resided aboard her divine command vessel—the Zek'Nar—protecting her throne, breeding sanctums, and chambers of command.
Each one was chosen not only for physical prowess but for unwavering loyalty.
Their devotion bordered on worship.
To fail a queen's guard duty was not dishonor—it was death.
Then came the High Lords, the generals of galaxies, crowned with twenty-eight to thirty-two tentacles.
They commanded planetary fleets, orchestrated invasions, and coordinated the vast expansion of the empire.
Each High Lord controlled entire sectors of space, their command vessels rivaling cities in scale.
Their word could raise worlds—or erase them.
Above them were the Command High Lords, whose thirty-four to forty tentacles gleamed with transcendent color.
They were the architects of conquest—the ones who wove the tapestry of Vexarian expansion across galaxies.
Each oversaw multiple planetary systems, balancing war, diplomacy, and spiritual integrity.
They were masters of domination, generals to be feared.
Each commanded their own fleet and answered only to one being higher than themselves: their assigned Grand High Lord.
And at the summit—where gods breathed and mortals ceased—stood the Grand High Lords, the supreme hunters of the Vexari race.
Bearing between forty-two and fifty tentacles, each searing in radiant crimson-purple, they were legends given flesh.
They had slain the strongest prey in existence—creatures whose will to live defied the stars themselves.
Only they could receive command directly from a Queen.
Only they were permitted to mate with the Queen.
Their command vessels were monuments to war—massive, radiant, adorned with trophies of conquered worlds.
Each Grand High Lord ruled multiple galaxies, serving as the Queen's will made manifest.
Only Starter Hunters and above were permitted to participate in the sacred hunts.
The higher the rank, the greater the prey—and the rarer the opportunity.
At the top, the Grand High Lords hunted only when something extraordinary appeared.
A prey unlike any other.
A prey that could make even gods tremble.