Libinea watched as the spear of the Fallen General advanced towards her. She remained utterly still, neither flinching nor blinking. Her animosity was too intense to show even a momentary hint of vulnerability to her sworn adversary.
Her goal was not merely to defeat him; she sought to diminish him utterly.
This was not for her own pleasure, but because the Heavens needed to be held accountable for their transgressions with equivalent severity.
She elevated her arm, her palm facing the advancing General. Her voice resonated, intended not only for him but for every soul present in the banquet hall to remember.
"You shall NEVER ... harm my Kin again!"
Beneath the table, the Divine Emperor tightened his fist. The notion of a mere Phoenix posing a threat to his existence was unheard of. Around the room, other Immortals ground their teeth in aggravation, their murderous intent flaring up but immediately subdued.
They longed to shout, to strike her down, yet they were immobilized by the detached gaze of the man clad in black seated at the guest table.
Her pronouncement reverberated beyond just the Divine Realm.
RATTLE.
The Ring of Azure Feathers, spinning behind her, resonated in response to her command.
Four feathers detached from the ring, darting forward like arrows. The General, his combat instincts honed by desperation, deflected them one by one, sending them spinning into the air towards the ceiling.
He believed he had thwarted the attack.
He was mistaken.
The feathers did not collide with the ceiling. They hovered mid-air, magnetized by Libinea's mana. They snapped together, merging tip-to-tip to form a small, radiant circular formation.
BLAST.
A beam of concentrated Solar Flame burst from the formation, screaming through the hall straight towards the General's head.
He hurled himself backward, the heat scorching his eyebrows as the beam liquefied the stone floor where he had just stood.
His head jerked up. The formation had not stopped functioning. It rotated, tracking him like a mechanical eye, then fired again.
He evaded... not just once, but twice... and once more.
He knew this pace was unsustainable. He needed to close the gap. With a roar, he gripped his spear, infusing it with blinding Light Magic, and hurled it with a force potent enough to breach a fortress.
The spear hit its mark, punching a hole straight through Libinea's chest.
Yet, no blood followed.
POOF.
Libinea's form dissolved into a swirl of grey ash and burning embers. The spear passed harmlessly through the cloud, embedding itself in the distant floor. The General blinked, teleporting to his weapon to retrieve it, skidding to a stop as he turned.
The cloud of ash swirled and reassembled a few steps from her original spot, reforming Libinea's body without a mark.
She hadn't even broken eye contact.
She afforded him no reprieve.
He hurled his spear again, then was compelled to roll aside to evade another beam attack from the ceiling formation.
The conflict became a cycle of frantic projectiles and effortless evasions. They streaked across the room, the General a blur of golden light, while Libinea remained a phantom of ash and azure fire.
To the spectators, the contrast was strikingly evident.
The General was struggling for survival, his movements growing sluggish as his mana waned.
Libinea was simply orchestrating a symphony.
That sluggishness proved costly.
He planted his foot to pivot, but was a fraction of a second too slow.
The General cried out in agony as the solar beam pierced cleanly through his thigh, instantly cauterizing the wound and dropping him to one knee.
Libinea responded without a moment's delay. She transformed into a swirling mass of grey ash, reappearing behind him before his knee even made contact with the ground, her arm poised to deliver a blow.
WHAM.
She struck him with the back of her hand, not with the precision of a martial artist, but with the authority of a Queen chastising a disobedient servant. The force sent him hurtling through the banquet tables, scattering wine and panicked Immortals alike, until he collided with the distant wall with a sickening crunch of stone and bone.
A shocked silence enveloped the room, punctuated only by hushed, urgent whispers.
"Too powerful..." one Immortal murmured, wiping wine from his cheek.
"Is that truly the same Phoenix from a millennium ago?"
"We must discern the technique she employed," another Elder hissed, his eyes alight with curiosity. "To ascend from the Early Divine Stage to the Peak of True Divinity so swiftly... it defies the principles of cultivation."
As the Immortals marveled at the formidable being Libinea had become, the dust obscuring the General began to glow. From the debris, a burst of brilliant light sliced through the haze.
"DIE!"
The General propelled himself from the wreckage, a comet of desperation channeling every ounce of his remaining life force into the tip of his spear. The weapon flared unpredictably with unstable Light Essence, on the brink of detonation upon impact.
It was unmistakably his last stand, a suicidal strike intended to bring her down with him.
Libinea observed his approach without lifting a shield or attempting to evade.
"If you are so eager to meet your end, then let it be," she proclaimed.
Her eyes shone with the azure flame of the Void. The Essence of Time began to emanate from her, denser than gravity, colder than the void of space.
She uttered a single word.
"Pause."
SNAP.
The colors of the room inverted. The General's roar was abruptly silenced, cut off as if by a guillotine. He hung motionless in mid-air, a grotesque figure of fury. His spear was suspended mere inches from Libinea's throat.
It wasn't just the General who was affected; the Emperor, the Guards, and the Elders were also caught in a greyscale stillness.
A goblet falling from a table hung in the air, the wine suspended like solid glass.
Only three beings remained conscious in this suspended world.
Raiking sat calmly, swirling the wine in his cup. He watched his sect member with quiet pride, admiring the results of the rigorous training he had put her through in the Void.
The Goddess of Creation, however, leaned forward, her eyes wide with the thrill of a scholar.
"Nirvana truly is the closest thing to Time Magic!"
Libinea didn't glance at the disgraced soldier's face. She simply raised her fan.
With a single, fluid motion, she slashed.
There was no sound.
She slit the General's throat.
In the frozen time, the blood didn't spray. It oozed out, thick and glowing with the potent spiritual energy of a near-True Divinity.
Under Libinea's will, the blood didn't fall to the floor. Instead, it began to uncoil from the wound, slithering through the air like a crimson serpent.
Libinea guided the blood, painting the air. She crafted a complex, ancient formation that encircled both her and the frozen General.
The trap was set. Now came the sacrifice.
Libinea reached a hand into her own chest. She winced, her fingers phasing through her own flesh to grip the core of her existence.
She pulled.
A sphere of blinding orange light emerged—her Phoenix Pearl. It pulsed with a warm, rhythmic beat, the very essence of her immortality.
She held the Pearl in the center of the blood formation.
"Rewrite," she hissed.
She slammed the Pearl into the Law of Time.
BOOM.
A shockwave of rejected reality rippled outward. The concepts of "Time" and "Life" clashed violently, sparking lightning that tore through the frozen banquet hall.
Blood seeped from Libinea's lips. Her skin cracked, golden light leaking from her veins as the backlash threatened to tear her apart.
Yet, she did not relent.
She thought of the Guards who stood watch outside her shrine, how fewer remained each year when she peeked out the window. She thought of the hatchlings hunted for their essence. She thought of the emptiness in her chest that Raiking had helped her fill.
She let out a scream, her voice intertwining with the call of a primordial bird, as she drove the Pearl deeper into the Law.
"Allow me to assist you."
The voice, ethereal and gentle, came from beside her.
The Goddess of Creation entered the circle, placing her hands alongside Libinea's trembling ones and channeling the white-gold light of Genesis into the chaotic melding.
The pain in Libinea's body vanished instantly, replaced by a warm, stabilizing hum.
"W-why?" Libinea stammered, her voice straining against the roar of the magic.
"Because..." The Goddess smiled, her eyes reflecting the memories of a thousand lifetimes. "As the Goddess of Creation, I do not just mold clay. I live through my creations."
She looked at Libinea with a strange, melancholic gratitude.
"Through you, I was able to live the life I had forsaken. Every smile he gave you, every laugh you shared, every moment of anguish... I felt it all. Without your journey, I would not have found the courage to create Faye."
Libinea stared into the deity's eyes. The seriousness in that ancient gaze told her everything she needed to know. The Goddess hadn't just been watching from a throne; she had been yearning from it.
"And what of my wings?" Libinea asked, her voice hardening slightly. "You clipped them. You allowed my people to be hunted. Do you feel no remorse?"
The Goddess let out a subtle, enigmatic smile. She glanced at the magnificent, fiery wings that now spanned the hall—wings far more powerful than the ones Libinea was born with.
"They grew back, didn't they?"
Libinea paused briefly, her eyes wandering past the Goddess to focus on the table where Raiking was leisurely swirling his wine. A rush of memories washed over her:
The Void koi.
The sect's training halls.
And that crucial moment when her cultivation ignited, evolving into the flames of a True Divinity Realm.
The trauma had been hell. But it had led her to him.
"They sure did," Libinea whispered, a fierce pride igniting in her chest. "And much stronger, too."
"Then let us finish this," the Goddess commanded.
"Together," Libinea agreed.
She focused fully on the ritual. With the backing of the Creator, the resistance of the Universe shattered.
"FUSE!"
Libinea unleashed the rest of her magic.
BOOM.
A burst of azure flame and golden creation magic erupted from the center of the hall. It didn't just ripple; it roared. The shockwave sent the banquet tables flying, turning the feast into a hurricane of wine, roasted meats, and expensive silverware.
In the center of the storm, the Law was etched into the cosmos. The concept of the Phoenix Pearl dissolved, its nature altering forever.
The chains of fate were broken at last.