The figures above noticed what had happened, and for the first time, their composure wavered.
"Thirteen peak Astral Saints… and only one of them died? What kind of absurdity is this?"
"That man from the Asura Vansh absorbed everything to protect her," another said, his tone sharpening. "A Mythical Soul Astra… even under the suppression of a Warden Deity, he could still wield such power. Monstrous."
"A pity," a third voice replied, indifferent. "But it changes nothing. We finish the other one. This has gone on long enough."
They reached a silent agreement. Power began to gather once more.
—
Suddently, a soft voice echoed.
"Eidryx, Forsaken Karmic Entanglement."
The words were quiet. Yet something in them felt… irreversible.
From the depths of the ruined land below, something stirred. Something long buried, long forgotten, answered the call.
The figures froze.
The calm silhouette turned sharply toward Nyxvi. "What are you—"
Before he could finish, the ground trembled.
Threads began to rise.
Countless of them.
They emerged from the earth in waves, each thread a different hue, shimmering faintly as though carrying fragments of something lost. They moved like living things, writhing and weaving through the air, before surging upward with sudden force.
In an instant, they reached the figures above.
The threads wrapped around them, coiling and tightening, binding their limbs, their bodies… their very presence. More threads followed, layering over one another, forming an intricate web that sealed them in place.
The gathered power shattered.
Soul Astras flickered and dispersed before they could take form.
The figures struggled, but their strength failed them.
This was not mere suppression.
The golden prison below had restrained power.
These threads went further.
They pressed upon existence itself.
"Nyxvi… what are you doing? Stop this at once." The calm voice was no longer composed. It carried a trace of agitation as he tried to break free.
The others turned toward her as well, their gazes cold, their power surging in resistance. It made no difference.
The threads held.
—
Nyxvi did not respond.
She simply moved.
Drifting down toward the ground, her expression remained unchanged.
With the owner of the golden prison bound, the prison itself began to fade. Its glow dimmed, its authority weakening, until it no longer suppressed the space within.
Vaelira could feel the pressure lift.
—
She looked up.
At Nyxvi.
Her tears had not stopped, but something in her gaze changed. The softness vanished, replaced by something raw and burning.
"You…"
Her voice trembled.
"This is all because of you."
Her hand tightened into a fist as she stepped forward, raising it to strike.
But before it could reach—
"Do you want to save him?"
Nyxvi's voice was soft.
Calm. Unwavering.
Something small was tossed toward her.
Vaelira froze mid-motion and caught it instinctively.
It was a stone.
Rough, uneven, about half the size of her fist. There was nothing remarkable about it at first glance. No glow, no aura. Just an ordinary fragment of rock.
Vaelira stared at it.
Then her body went still.
Her pupils shrank, and disbelief spread across her face.
"…Aeonshard of Paradox?"
The words left her lips in a whisper.
Impossible.
That artifact… it had been sealed away by her clan. It was never meant to resurface.
Her grip tightened.
Slowly, she looked up at Nyxvi, her expression shifting into shock.
"You… you want me to use this?"
Her voice rose.
"Have you gone mad?"
Nyxvi met her gaze, unshaken.
"Do we have another choice?"
There was no force in her tone, only quiet certainty.
"I know you would never agree under normal circumstances."
She stepped closer, her eyes lowering briefly toward the still body in Vaelira's arms.
"But tell me…"
Her voice softened further.
"Do you truly wish to let him die like this?"
Her gaze returned to Vaelira.
"To leave him with regret?"
The words were gentle.
Yet they lingered like something far heavier.
Vaelira's fingers tightened around the stone.
She looked down at Kaelrath.
No breath. No movement. No warmth.
For a moment, everything else faded.
The Aeonshard of Paradox rested in her palm, silent and unremarkable, yet heavy with a presence that pressed against her very soul. It was the forbidden relic of the Kaalarin VoidCrest clan, a power said to bend reality itself and reverse the flow of time.
A power that should never have existed.
It was not merely dangerous. It was absolute.
Five hundred years ago, during the Calamity, her clan had refused to use it.
Even five years ago, when their clan was annihilated, they had not touched it.
It was a power that defied consequence. A power that did not belong to the living.