The gravity around the flying platform collapsed.
The luxury wood, the decorative metals, and even the winged beasts pulling the platform... everything began to dismantle and float in the air, as if the planet's gravity had lost its meaning in this small space.
Amidst this collapse, Clayman was crawling backward, his eyes wide with a terror he hadn't experienced even when facing Rimuru at the Walpurgis. The young man standing before him, in his dark cloak and calm eyes, emitted no spiritual pressure. There was no anger, and no killing intent.
There was only... a blind void.
"Stay away from me!" Clayman roared hysterically. He waved his magical cane, unleashing a barrage of nuclear-tier destructive spells. Orbs of black fire, bolts of lightning, and wind blades capable of cleaving mountains.
But Akira didn't even blink. He didn't move an inch.
The moment the spells approached his body, they silently faded away. They didn't explode, nor were they deflected... they were wiped from existence as if they had never been cast.
Clayman realized that physical and magical attacks were a mere joke against this entity. But he remembered the trump card granted to him by the Higher Administration.
"You rely on an absolute physical defense?" Clayman smiled a twisted smile, breaking into a manic laugh as he staggered to his trembling feet. "What a fool! I am the Puppet Emperor! I don't need to scratch your flesh... I will seize your soul directly and make you my eternal slave!"
Clayman raised both hands toward Akira, his entire body glowing with a corrupted golden light.
**[Ultimate Skill: Puppet Emperor, Mephisto - Activation: Absolute Spiritual Domination!]**
Thousands of transparent golden threads shot straight toward Akira's chest. These weren't threads to control bodies; they were threads meant to pierce the core of the soul, capable of brainwashing a Demon Lord or a True Dragon if they lacked an equivalent spiritual defense.
Akira didn't evade. He didn't raise a magical barrier. Instead, he completely relaxed his defenses and opened his arms slightly, allowing the threads to pierce his chest and connect directly to his soul.
"Hahahaha! Fool! You arrogant fool!" Clayman screamed in the ecstasy of victory, pulling the threads with all his might. "I've entered your soul! Now, show me your fears, show me your memories, and let me crush—"
Clayman's voice was suddenly cut off.
He was no longer standing on the collapsing platform. He could no longer see the sky of the Jura Forest, nor the legions of angels.
Instead, he found his consciousness pulled entirely through his own threads into Akira's inner world.
When Clayman opened his spiritual eyes, he found himself standing on an endless surface of black water, under a gray sky devoid of any light. There were no memories to destroy, and no emotions to manipulate. The place was cold, quiet, and completely devoid of meaning.
"What... what is this place?" Clayman muttered, his voice trembling. "Where is your consciousness? Where is your mind for me to shatter?!"
*"You are standing on it."*
The voice echoed from all directions. It wasn't Akira's human voice; it was a multi-layered voice, possessing a bone-crushing cosmic resonance.
Clayman slowly raised his trembling gaze.
Before him, amidst the black waters, was the "Throne of the Void." The black hole materialized in the form of a royal seat. And upon that throne sat Akira... but he was not human. His eyes glowed with a darkness that swallowed light, and his aura was vaster than the world itself.
Faced with this sight, Clayman's instincts realized the horrifying truth. This wasn't a human, nor a monster, not even a Demon Lord. He had tried to invade the soul of a "God" that transcended the boundaries of comprehension and logic.
Azathoth's cosmic pressure crashed down on Clayman like a mountain of lead.
Clayman fell to his knees, coughing up spiritual blood. His mind, which prided itself on being a cunning puppet master, began to crack and shatter under the weight of pure psychological terror. He forgot his pride, he forgot the Higher Administration, and he forgot his grudge against Rimuru. All he wanted now was to escape.
"Please..." Clayman whispered as he crawled on the black water, his tears mixing with his blood. "Please... let me go... I don't want... I don't want to be noth—"
*"You knocked on my door, Clayman,"* Akira said in his cold cosmic voice, looking down at him with utter disdain. *"But in this world, there are no exit doors."*
Akira didn't raise his hand, and he didn't cast a spell.
He simply snapped his fingers.
*Snap.*
In the real world, atop the flying platform, Clayman's physical body completely froze.
The golden threads connecting him to Akira turned black, then evaporated.
Clayman's eyes widened, and his body began to turn to ash... but the ash didn't scatter in the wind; it was disappearing. It was simply being swallowed from existence.
In a matter of seconds, not a single trace of the "Puppet Emperor" remained. No body, no soul, no echo. He was completely erased from the records of the world.
The moment Clayman vanished, the control threads binding the millions of human soldiers lost their source, and the remaining troops began to collapse to the ground, permanently freed. As for the sky, the angels who had lost the "anchor" that brought them into existence (Clayman's Administration-granted skill) saw their spiritual bodies crack and fade away like misty illusions.
The war stopped.
Akira stood alone in the open air, as the platform crumbled beneath him. He slowly turned toward the artificial golden sky, its color already beginning to fade.
"Your first plan failed, 'Weavers'," Akira said in a quiet voice carried by the wind. "Send everything you have... the Void is still hungry."