Chapter 414 — The Blue Anomaly
The silence that followed Nightmare's impact was not an ordinary silence.
It was the silence of a system that had just encountered a critical error.
Cyrus adjusted his holographic glasses. The numbers scrolled so fast they looked like digital parasites.
— *Oh…*
He tilted his head slightly.
— *A suicidal one has stepped in.*
Nightmare pulled on his blade.
It didn't move a single millimeter.
He slowly lowered his eyes toward the young woman standing before him.
She didn't look like a deity.
Nor a spirit.
She simply looked like a warrior who had just finished warming up.
Clara raised her eyes to him.
Her blue aura didn't just shine.
It vibrated.
The air around her oscillated at a strange frequency that made breathing difficult for lower-ranked fighters.
— *Your thing's a bit heavy,* she said calmly.
Nightmare narrowed his eyes.
The mass of his blade increased brutally.
100,000 tons.
200,000.
500,000.
Then:
1,000,000 tons.
The ground cracked under the pressure.
Clara sighed.
Then she yawned.
— *Ah…*
She stretched her neck.
— *And you insist?*
She looked at the blade she was holding.
— *You should put more heart into it.*
With a sharp flick of her wrist, she sent a surge of blue mana through the weapon.
**BOOOOM.**
The wave shot up the blade like a reversed lightning strike.
**CRACK.**
Nightmare's bones shattered from shoulder to wrist.
The giant was hurled backward.
He crashed through three reinforced walls of the Sanctuary before stopping in a cloud of rubble.
Clara shook her hand lightly.
— *Shameless…*
She looked at the others.
— *Ten against one?*
She raised an eyebrow.
— *Ganging up on a woman to kill a woman already dead.*
Samaël straightened slightly in his seat.
For the first time…
The boredom vanished from his eyes.
— *And who are you?*
His voice was cold.
— *Another mistake of nature?*
Clara didn't answer him.
She turned toward Elena's trembling spirit.
— *Hey, lady who's screaming.*
She shoved her hands into her pockets while her blue aura still crackled around her.
— *Looks like you've had a rough day.*
She nodded toward Samaël.
— *But if you want to kill that guy…*
She pointed at Samaël with her thumb.
— *…you'll have to wait in line.*
She tilted her head.
— *Or maybe we can work something out.*
Azraël chuckled softly, spinning his mirror between his fingers.
— *An intruder?*
His smile widened.
— *In the Sanctuary? That's bold.*
He tilted his head slightly.
— *Do you know you're surrounded by the most dangerous beings in this world?*
Clara slowly turned her head toward him.
Her gaze shifted.
The blue aura grew denser.
At its edges, it almost turned to dark indigo.
— *"Dangerous"?*
She repeated the word with a provocative smile.
— *You mostly look like a bunch of spoiled brats squabbling over an inheritance.*
She shrugged.
— *I just came to see if the legendary SSS Ranks bleed like the rest.*
Mister Mind rose slowly.
His eyes gleamed with analytical light.
— *Her mana…*
He observed Clara with fascination.
— *It doesn't follow any standard circulation law.*
His fingers trembled slightly.
— *It's as if she possesses…*
He whispered:
— *Two different heartbeats.*
In Clara's mind, a cold, ancient voice resonated.
— *Clara… be careful.*
— *The one with closed eyes… Seth.*
— *He's watching us, even without eyes.*
— *And the Patriarch…*
The voice grew deeper.
— *His power is a void. Don't be too arrogant.*
Clara answered mentally.
— *Don't worry, Vespera.*
She smiled faintly.
— *If they're that strong…*
Her blue aura crackled even more.
— *It'll just make for a bigger explosion when I hit them.*
Brakk, still slumped at the table, sighed.
His head half-resting on the cracked wood.
— *Great…*
He lazily raised his hand.
— *Another psychopath.*
He looked at Clara.
— *And this one looks like she could lift the Sanctuary with her bare hands.*
He sighed again.
— *Did anyone think to order pizza?*
He glanced at the cracked ceiling.
— *Because this is going to take a while.*
Samaël was finally about to rise.
But Azraël raised a hand.
— *Leave her to me, father.*
He stepped forward.
Space around him began to twist slightly.
His smile widened.
— *Very well…*
He inclined his head toward Clara.
— *"The Eclipse."*
His eyes gleamed with dangerous light.
— *Let's see if your blue can survive…*
He snapped his fingers.
Space around Clara folded violently.
Thousands of dimensional fragments closed in like a cage.
— *The Spatial Burial.*
Chapter 415 — The Game of Variables
Azraël's attack was not an explosion.
It was a sonic implosion.
Space itself closed in on Clara like an invisible jaw.
Throughout the Sanctuary, only one sound was heard:
the crack of reality breaking.
— *The Spatial Burial…* murmured Azraël.
In his hand, a black cube floated.
Compact.
Silent.
— *I present to you your coffin.*
His smile widened.
— *Inside… an infinite void.*
His eyes gleamed.
— *…containing multiple universes.*
Inside, Clara smiled.
— *Oh…*
Her blue aura pulsed.
Then intensified.
— *Here… I can finally release the surplus.*
An indigo glow began to invade the void.
It wasn't light.
It was a living pressure.
From outside, Azraël tightened his hand slightly.
Inside, entire universes collapsed.
Clara didn't move.
She slowly placed her hand on the hilt of her gigantic blade.
Then she smiled.
— *Thanks for the training room.*
**CRACK.**
A blue fissure appeared.
Then a second.
Then thousands.
The spatial cage began to tremble.
To vibrate.
To give way.
Then—
**BOOOOM.**
The cube exploded.
Fragments of pure reality were hurled throughout the Sanctuary, crashing against the walls like cosmic glass.
Clara stood there.
Intact.
Her blue aura had become heavy.
Oppressive.
Almost… physical.
— *Nice trick.*
She brushed off her shoulder.
— *But I've lived in tighter places than your box.*
Elena stared at Clara, lost.
— *Why… why help me?*
Clara never took her eyes off Samaël.
— *I'm not helping you, lady.*
Her voice grew colder.
— *I just hate guys who think "perfection" is an excuse to be trash.*
In her mind, Vespera whispered:
— *Clara… to your left. The Master of Probabilities.*
Seth.
Still motionless.
Still eyes closed.
A faint smile on his lips.
As if he were watching a play whose ending he already knew…
But had decided to make interesting.
Azraël burst out laughing.
— *Oh… You survived that?*
His eyes gleamed with excitement.
— *Let's see how long you last against your worst nightmares.*
Clara clenched her fists.
Her blue aura wrapped around her arms like chains.
— *Your nightmares don't scare me.*
A smile stretched across her lips.
— *I've got one for company that talks to me all day.*
She vanished.
Then—
**BOOM.**
She appeared before Azraël.
Her strike shook the entire Sanctuary.
But—
Nothing.
Her fist stopped in the void.
Immobile.
Blocked.
Azraël tilted his head slightly.
— *Between me… and any thing…*
His voice was calm.
— *No matter its nature…*
Space around him distorted.
Stretched.
To infinity.
— *If I decide it cannot touch me…*
He smiled.
— *Then it does not touch me.*
Clara observed.
Then she smiled.
— *Your whole power rests on that?*
Her mana crackled around her fist.
Space vibrated.
Bent.
Twisted.
In her mind:
— *Be careful, Clara. He's the Master of Reflections. He manipulates the layers of space.*
Clara exhaled.
— *Don't worry, Ves.*
She raised her hand.
Her mana concentrated there.
Then—
She drew a line in the void.
**SCHRAAAAAK.**
Space was sliced.
Not once.
But in depth.
Infinite layers of space tore apart one after another.
Invisible barriers.
Impossible distances.
All cut.
The attack continued.
Again.
Again.
Until—
It found something.
Azraël.
His arm was severed.
Blood splattered the air.
He stepped back slightly.
Then smiled.
— *Interesting.*
Clara reappeared before him.
Instantly.
She raised a finger.
A blue sphere formed.
Small.
Dense.
Silent.
Azraël stared at it.
For a fraction of a second.
Then—
**BOOOOOOOOOOM.**
The blue explosion swallowed everything.
Space.
The ground.
The air.
The Sanctuary trembled as if it were about to collapse.
Meanwhile…
Cyrus watched Seth.
— *Don't think we didn't notice what you did.*
A silence.
Then—
A light split space.
Descending.
Fast.
Precise.
— *Judgment Cross.*
Two crossed luminous slashes tore reality.
They struck The Root head-on.
But—
His arms instantly covered with nanomachines.
He crossed them.
**BOOM.**
The impact shook the area.
But he held.
A silhouette descended slowly.
With elegance.
As if the chaos around was nothing but scenery.
— *Where is that young lady…*
His voice was calm.
Almost amused.
— *She is far too impulsive.*
He set foot on the ground.
— *I should teach her patience.*
Alaster had just appeared.
Cyrus growled.
— *Great…*
His glasses flickered.
— *Another insect.*
Chapter 416 — The Administrators of Chaos
Alaster brushed off an imaginary speck of dust from the lapel of his jacket.
Around him, space—still torn apart by the clash between Clara and Azraël—tried to stitch itself back together…
but his mere presence imposed something else.
A stability.
Rigid.
Sharp.
Almost… authorized.
— *Patience is a virtue that is fading…* he sighed, adjusting his gloves.
— *Especially among young women with such… noisy auras.*
Cyrus pushed away the smoke rising from his arms.
His nanomachines crackled, repairing the damage left by the Judgment Cross.
— *An insect…?* he repeated.
His voice vibrated with contained rage, distorted by his modulator.
— *You just attacked the very root of the Guild, Alaster.*
His holographic glasses flickered.
— *Your chances of leaving here intact have just dropped to zero.*
A little further away, Mister Mind tilted his head slightly.
— *Two new parameters…*
His voice was fascinated.
— *Clara, the Anomaly… and Alaster, the Judge…*
He turned his gaze toward Seth.
— *Your chessboard is becoming… delightfully crowded.*
Seth did not answer.
But his smile widened.
Barely.
Everything was unfolding as planned.
Alaster's arrival… was no accident.
It was balance.
While Clara occupied Samaël's "arms"…
Alaster held back Cyrus.
At the center of the crater…
The blue smoke slowly dissipated.
Azraël was still standing.
His severed arm floated in a spatial distortion, suspended between existence and nothingness.
No blood.
No visible pain.
He observed the void left by his limb.
With curiosity.
— *You touched me, Clara…*
His voice was calm.
— *You cut… infinity.*
He raised his eyes to her.
And for the first time…
His smile vanished.
A black aura.
Macabre.
Crushing.
Further away…
Samaël rose.
Finally.
His throne of rubble collapsed behind him.
His shadow spread.
Immense.
It covered everything:
Elena.
Seth.
Alaster.
Even the battlefield.
— *You play… in my house…*
His voice made the air itself vibrate.
— *You insult my blood.*
— *You defy… my perfection.*
His gaze passed slowly over each of them.
Then stopped on Clara.
Then on Alaster.
— *The Venom…*
A silence.
— *…does not simply kill.*
Space seemed to freeze.
— *It erases.*
A crash.
Nightmare rose again.
His broken body reconstituted in a mix of metal and flesh.
His arm swelled.
Deformed.
Became a monstrous mass.
Two million tons.
Gravity around him twisted.
— *Let me crush her…!*
His voice was a roar.
— *For you, grandfather!*
Mister Mind raised his hand slightly.
— *No.*
He smiled.
— *Just watch.*
Haya. Mira. Bloodweaver.
— *For now… we observe.*
Cyrus stepped forward.
Calm.
Cold.
— *A.I.D.A…*
A digital echo answered in his mind.
— *Take care of the Sanctuary.*
His glasses vanished.
— *I'll handle the rest.*
Alaster fixed him.
A polite smile.
— *Oh…*
He inclined his head slightly.
— *To whom do I have the honor?*
Cyrus placed a finger against his temple.
— *Cyrus.*
A pause.
— *The Root.*
Alaster extended his hand.
Elegant.
— *Charmed.*
A calm smile.
— *I hope our clash will live up to your expectations.*
Cyrus gave a slight laugh.
— *Oh…*
His gaze turned icy.
— *Don't worry about that.*
In his mind…
A version of A.I.D.A analyzed.
Simulated.
Calculated.
Billions of lines of code scrolled.
Possible realities.
Errors.
Exploits.
Ariel whispered, tense:
— *Cyrus is dangerous… He is not The Root for nothing.*
Her gaze never left the scene.
— *His powers rest on four domains:*
She clenched her fists.
— *Cheats.*
— *World Editing.*
— *System Management.*
— *Final Commands.*
A silence.
— *And his technomancy…*
She inhaled.
— *For him, reality is a program.*
— *And everything a hacker can do in a game…*
She fixed her eyes on Cyrus.
— *…he can do in reality.*
A heavy silence fell.
Alaster slowly drew his blade.
The metal sang.
— *Perfect.*
A calm smile.
— *Then let's see…*
He raised his weapon.
— *If you are truly the administrator…*
His gaze sharpened.
— *…or just a user with too many permissions.*
Cyrus smiled.
Coldly.
— *We'll see what you're worth, Alaster.*
The Sanctuary held its breath.
Because what was about to follow…
was no longer a battle.
It was a clash between two entities capable of redefining the rules themselves.
Chapter 417 — Pages, Fractures and Bad Ideas
Clara stretched her shoulders slightly, her blue aura vibrating like an engine too powerful for its own frame.
— *Looks like things are about to get serious… right, Ves?*
In her head, Vespera's voice answered, calm, almost weary:
— *I'll handle the spells for you.*
Clara shrugged.
— *Doesn't matter, I don't know how to do that anyway. Me, I hit… and it works.*
Silence.
Then Vespera sighed inwardly:
— *…What a waste. She has an absurd amount of mana… and she uses it like a hammer.*
Azraël, meanwhile… smiled.
His aura had vanished.
Not weakened.
Suppressed.
As if it had never existed.
He ignored his severed arm completely, as if it were an administrative detail.
Then he produced a book.
A simple book.
But Clara immediately felt it wasn't normal.
Azraël slowly opened the tome.
— *See this book?*
He placed his finger on a page.
— *Imagine each page… is an infinite universe.*
He turned a page.
— *And me… I'm here.*
Another page.
— *And you… there.*
He closed the book gently.
— *To reach me… your attack must pass through every layer.*
He fixed her with a smile, almost pedagogical.
— *Even if your speed is infinite… you won't reach the first page.*
A silence.
— *At best… you'll reach the second.*
He took a step.
— *I can be two meters from you…*
Pause.
— *…while being a thousand pages away.*
Clara blinked.
— *…*
Then she looked inward at Vespera.
— *Ves… was that a lecture or is he just trying to confuse me?*
— *Both.*
Azraël raised his hand.
And reality… shattered.
Not exploded.
Not destroyed.
Fragmented.
Like a mirror smashed against the floor.
Thousands of shards floated around them.
And in each shard… something appeared.
Clara looked around.
One fragment showed a ruined desert.
Another, a futuristic city collapsing.
Another still… a memory.
Her. Younger. Laughing.
She frowned.
— *…What the hell is this?*
Vespera murmured:
— *These are fragmented dimensions. Each shard… is an independent reality.*
Another shard passed before Clara.
She saw Azraël.
But not the one in front of her.
Another. Younger.
Slaughtering an entire army.
Another shard.
Azraël sitting, reading calmly.
Another.
Azraël… dead.
Clara blinked.
— *Okay… I don't like this thing.*
Azraël's voice resonated.
Everywhere.
— *What do you do… when each shard becomes a dimension?*
A silence.
— *When every direction is a universe?*
Suddenly.
A movement.
A streak.
Absurd speed.
— *He's there!* Vespera shouted.
**BOOM.**
Azraël's fist struck.
Clara crossed her arms.
The impact echoed through the Sanctuary.
The floor cracked.
The air exploded.
She was hurled backward.
But she remained standing.
— *Not bad…* Clara growled.
She swept the air with a gesture.
Blue slashes tore through space.
Azraël dodged.
The cuts continued.
They sliced through the shards.
Entire fragments of reality were severed.
Clara vanished.
Reappeared before him.
A punch.
Charged with mana.
— *Take this.*
**STOP.**
The blow halted.
Blocked.
Not by Azraël.
By… space itself.
Clara forced forward.
The mana veins on her arm burst with light.
— *Come on… COME ON!*
Azraël bent down.
Calm.
And—
**BAM.**
A kick to the stomach.
Clara was sent flying back.
She slid.
Stopped herself with her hand.
The ground tore apart for several meters.
She raised her head.
Smiled.
— *Okay… now it's getting interesting.*
She extended her hand.
Mana condensed.
A sphere.
Blue.
Dense.
Too dense.
The air around began to warp.
The shards of reality vibrated.
Vespera panicked slightly:
— *Clara… be careful—*
— *Don't worry, Ves.*
Clara smiled.
A dangerous smile.
— *This time…*
She pointed the sphere at Azraël.
— *…I won't try to go through his pages.*
A pause.
Her aura exploded.
— *I'll burn the entire book.*
In the distance, Brakk watched the scene.
— *…*
He took a deep breath.
— *Okay. So now she's going to blow up universes.*
He turned to Bloodweaver.
— *Is this normal here or did I miss an episode?*
Bloodweaver shrugged.
— *No. This is clearly off-script.*
Azraël, meanwhile… smiled.
Even wider.
— *Perfect.*
He raised his hand.
— *Show me…*
The shards around them began to spin.
— *…how far your absurdity goes.*
And the blue sphere… grew larger still.
As if it refused to obey the laws of size.
Or of reason.