The vacuum of space didn't just vibrate; it shrieked.
The violet-purple lightning that once danced around Mayanee began to thicken, curdling into a viscous, predatory Blood Red. Her black katana, once a tool of precision, was overwritten by the same crimson energy, the blade glowing as if it had been forged in the heart of a dying sun.
[SYSTEM ALERT: BLOOD LIGHTNING MODE ACTIVE]
[ALL BASE STATS BOOSTED: 1200%]
[WARNING: REALITY ANCHOR FAILING]
As she took a single step, the planetoid beneath her didn't just crack—it was deleted. The mere friction of her presence sent arcs of red electricity hurtling into the void, incinerating nearby moons like pebbles in a furnace.
The Monarch of Destruction tilted his head, his single eye pulsing. "Now," he whispered, "you finally look like something worth killing."
Mayanee didn't respond with words. She didn't "move" in the traditional sense; she simply erased the distance between them. To any observer, it looked like teleportation, but it was raw, unadulterated speed that broke the laws of physics.
SHING!
The crimson blade sang through the air. For the first time in history, the Monarch's reaction was a millisecond too slow. The blade bit deep into his forearm, severing his hand clean at the wrist.
"Gahhh!" The Monarch recoiled, his black bandages fluttering in the solar winds. "My hand... you actually drew blood."
"I will make you feel every ounce of the pain you gave my sister," Mayanee hissed, her red eyes glowing with the intensity of a nebula. But internally, her mind was a storm of calculations. 'Blood Lightning is burning through my core... I can't sustain 1200% for more than a few minutes. I have to end this now.'
"How much power do you think I am using, little Queen?" the Monarch asked, his voice suddenly calm.
Mayanee tightened her grip on her katana. "Maybe fifty percent. It doesn't matter. I'll cut through the other fifty too."
The Monarch began to laugh—a low, terrifying sound that vibrated through her very marrow. Before her eyes, his hand didn't just regrow; it reconstructed instantly, even the black cloth of his bandages knitting back together as if time were moving in reverse.
"Fifty?" he chuckled, flexing his new fingers. "I was using ten percent. But you're right... playtime is officially over."
Suddenly, the universe went cold. Mayanee's senses didn't just scream; they shattered.
[CRITICAL ALERT: THREAT LEVEL - UNMEASURABLE]
[EVASION IMPOSSIBLE]
Mayanee instinctively activated her [MAXIMUM MASS DEFENSE], turning her body into a localized singularity that should have been unmovable.
The Monarch moved at a speed that transcended sight. There was no flash, no sound—only the sensation of a fist connecting with her chest. Her "Absolute Defense" shattered like cheap glass.
Mayanee was launched across the sector, a streak of red light that tore through a nearby Neutron Star. The gravity of the dead star tried to pull her into its crushing core, but she ignited her lightning, fighting the pull with every ounce of her remaining 1200% boost, hovering on the edge of the event horizon.
The Monarch appeared above her, silhouetted against the dark void. He raised a single finger toward the star she was clinging to.
"[FULL GRAVITY CONTROL]," he commanded.
With a casual flick of his wrist, the Monarch literally uprooted the Neutron Star—a mass billions of times heavier than Earth—and hurled the entire star at Mayanee like a child throwing a stone.
The once-proud capital city was no longer a sanctuary; it was a furnace.
Inside the ruins of the main hall, the air was thick with the scent of ozone and scorched earth. Cindar, the legendary S-Rank fire specialist who had stood as a wall of protection for decades, was gone. He didn't just fall in battle; he was incinerated by Rax's superior draconic heat, his flames snuffed out by a predator that viewed fire as a mere toy.
Outside, the horror was total. Blue flames—cold and lethal—danced across the streets, consuming both civilians and seasoned adventurers alike. The screams were constant, but there was no one left to answer them.
Within the crumbling walls of the Adventurer Guild, operators were frantically sending distress signals to neighboring cities. "MAYDAY! Sector 4 has fallen! The Arcon of Wind is dead! Cindar is down! We need—" The transmission cut into static as a massive shadow loomed over the building.
Near the stadium ruins, Techyon lay buried. The impact of being thrown by Cindar had sent him through a skyscraper, the structure collapsing over him like shattered glass. He was unconscious, his breathing shallow, pinned beneath millions of tons of steel and concrete. He was the "Last Hope," but currently, he was just another body in the wreckage.
The survivors who could still move stopped and looked at the sky. Even during the day, the stars were visible, and they were bleeding. Red and black lightning clashed across the firmament, sending ripples of crimson light that made the clouds look like open wounds.
"Is this the end?" a woman screamed, clutching her child as the Earth beneath her trembled from a distant, galactic impact. "Does we still have hope? Or are the gods just playing with our corpses?"
The only answer was the roar of the blue fire.