As the all-important persona that you are, you have been accepted into the Citadel on the 7th level and granted an audience with the King. The Once-white-but-worn-out-over-time City, the greatest fortress in the Kingdom of Rodnog, has been surrounded by massive hordes of enemies, spanning across the horizon as far as the eye can see. You and your companions enter the Great Hall to find yourselves among a fascinating crowd. Noble kings and queens of allied nations, legendary generals, mythical heroes of feats uncountable, the wisest and most powerful mages there ever were, mystical creatures of powers untold, all sorts of paragons of might and magic. And you, a champion of the realm, two-time saviour of the world (they all refuse to acknowledge that one time where everybody else was frozen in time and you were teleported to that distant plane by these omnipotent beings to fight the one evil they could not defeat and you totally defeated it and gained the boons of celestials, which are not worth jack shit on your own plane but just they wait until you get in trouble somewhere else) and all around revered person across the lands of the good guys.
Suddenly, the ground shakes. The room immediately fills with silence. The ground shakes again, rocking the Great Hall, little pieces of granite and dust rain from the columns and ceiling. You hear a worried “no, no, no, no, no, no, no…” a mage rushes for the massive doors and blasts them open. He sprints through the court, past the Once-white-but-you-know-the-rest tree, and makes short work of the massive runway to the edge of the cliff. After some mumbling and shuffling around, you and most others follow suite, catching up to him in a couple of minutes. You stare down the black sea of enemies below and notice, in the distance, a split in their ranks where thirteen cultists are spilling the blood of volunteers around a massive circle in the ground. With each sliced throat thrown into the circle, the land shakes, dirt and stone flung upward, cracks in the earth now spitting wild gusts of flame and smoke. All of you look around, to each other, then to the King. With a stern grimace, he says “We must stop the ritual or the lands shall become feasting grounds for the Lords of Hell.”
Below you, on all levels of the city, massive horns of war are being blown. The front gates open and the armies of the Allied Forces start to pour through. Without hesitation, the King draws his sword, which he conveniently carries on his person in a meeting, and jumps from the cliff, slamming into the black mass three hundred metres below in a superhero pose, creating a shockwave that knocks back enemies when he lands. A pristine suit of armour grows around his body, pulsating waves of all sorts of energies radiate from him, his sword lights up and with the roar of a thousand dragons, he charges through the swarm, cutting enemies like butter and being an overall badass. Behind him, his soldiers have finished squeezing three-at-a-time through a one-man-wide opening in the massive castle gate and inspired, charge after their glorious King.
Wasting no time at all, the others around you follow him and start making their way down from atop the cliff, carelessly jumping off from a thousand feet as if it were no trouble at all. The mage pulls back for some distance, then starts running and throws himself in the air while mighty flames erupt from around his feet and wrists. He falls for a brief moment until he reaches escape velocity, then blasts off to the skies to fight the incoming wave of bats and wyverns and frost wyrms and all sorts of nasty evil air support the bad guys can think of. A tiny, gentle, graceful, young, beautiful lady with way too much eye shadow suddenly pulls daggers from nowhere and jumps along the cliff, slowing down her speedy fall by embedding steel into rock because that’s how physics works now, then shortly after joins the all out battle below, which an assassin such as herself would totally do. The mighty mountain of muscles and brains (but mostly muscles) behind you simply jumps twenty feet into the air then falls and slams its massive body into the ground, á la King style. It shakes off the pain the ground felt from its thousand foot fall and starts smashing things that move.
The sorceress on your left slowly rises into the air and begins gracefully descending downward, blackening the sky with clouds that appeared out of nowhere and showering the enemy hordes with lightning and molten rain. The angel to your right jumps and takes flight, a shining beacon of hope soaring above the battlefield on wings that would totally support the weight of a humanoid… yea, she is mostly just soaring there purposelessly, but there is no doubt in your mind she will come down to sacrifice herself to save
a secondary character somebody and inspire them, lighting the spark within, to charge forth like no man has ever charged (forth) before and kill the last cultist just in time. Behind you, the brooding elven archer cocks his head as if listening very carefully to something in the distance, then suddenly shoots an arrow with a silken rope attached to it high into the sky. Five seconds later it lodges itself into a screeching succubus who changed her flight path to get out of the way of a flock of battle griffins and the archer totally foresaw that. He now jumps into the air as the rope stretches, rides it down to the battlefield with the succubus struggling in the air just long enough so he can land softly on the ground, then being able to support their weight not a second longer, she collapses in the dirt and dies from her wounds.
All around you portals open, nymphs glide on tornadoes, the cliff is moved and frozen and baked in fire, warriors and monks throw themselves off just to look cool, old wizards with walking sticks summon mighty (flying) steeds out of nowhere, assassins slip into gusts of shadow and re-appear behind their enemies, elves mumble words of power and zip past you, running so fast downward that they can’t fall, some of them simply take flight because why not, a woman from the east uses her bladed fans to glide through the air to the ground below and you, you sit there, thinking… “Well damn, I appear to be in a pretty high-powered setting.”
If that sounds ridiculous, that’s because it is. However this scenario is perfect for illustrating just how powerful a character can be when their abilities are taken to their theoretical extreme.