Cornea struggled against her enemy—an echo woven by Mnemos, wearing Arlen’s face.

  She knew it was a copy.

  It lacked Arlen’s cunning, his cruelty-in-calculation, his instinct to turn weakness into traps.

  And yet—

  She couldn’t strike.

  She defended. She dodged. She countered.

  But every time her staff rose to attack, their eyes met—and something foreign tightened around her heart.

  Hesitation.

  The echo did not tire.

  Cornea did.

  The longer the battle dragged on, the more the scales tipped against her.

  She forced distance, twisting her body mid-air, hurling a sphere of compressed darkness straight toward Mnemos. But the echo intercepted it—again. Mnemos stayed far back, careful, cowardly. A non-combatant hiding behind reflections.

  And still… Cornea was stalled.

  Against something so weak.

  Then a voice cut through the arena.

  “You can’t even kill a puppet because it looks like Arlen?

  If you’re that weak, I’ll leave you behind.”

  Cornea’s eyes snapped sideways.

  So did Mnemos’s.

  Tethys stood at the far end of the coliseum—victorious. Termina lay broken at her feet.

  Mnemos clicked his tongue. “Hah. So the child beat Termina. That only proves how weak the goddess of boundaries truly was. She’ll be stripped of her position and serve as a lesser god here for the rest of her life.”

  His gaze turned back to Cornea.

  “Well then… what can the demon queen—”

  He froze.

  A step backward—pure instinct, as if he has sensed a monster.

  Cornea rose.

  Darkness poured from her like a tide barely held in check.

  “How disgraceful of me,” she said calmly.

  “A child—one not even half my age—finished her battle before I did.”

  Her staff warped in her grasp, reshaping, condensing, sharpening—until it became a pitch-black blade.

  “And I hesitated,” she continued, voice low, steady, lethal,

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  “against something that only like Arlen.”

  Her eyes burned.

  “The real Arlen would never raise his blade against his queen.”

  The blade flicked.

  That was all.

  The echo’s head fell from its body before the sound even reached the stands.

  Mnemos staggered back, terror flooding his face.

  “What—what are you?! A monster?!”

  In panic, he summoned more echoes.

  Solon.

  Lysander.

  Nyx.

  Dryas.

  Tethys.

  Astrea.

  Caelus.

  Grom.

  Aura.

  Faces meant to break her.

  They didn’t even slow her.

  Cornea walked forward.

  One step.

  One flick.

  One echo erased.

  Again.

  And again.

  Each vanished before it could lift a hand.

  When she finally stood before Mnemos, he understood.

  The darkness around her wasn’t attacking him.

  It was .

  If she let go—he would be devoured without even leaving a scream.

  Mnemos fell to his knees.

  “I… I lost,” he whispered.

  Cornea turned to Tethys.

  She didn’t even glance at her fallen enemy.

  “You’ve got some nerve,” she said flatly, “repeating my line back at me.”

  She walked toward the child.

  “But thanks to that,” her voice lowered, steadier now, colder, “I came back to my senses.”

  Then she lifted her gaze to the stands.

  “Now then, God of Gravity,” Cornea declared.

  “The fight is over. It’s time to bind you all with Oath Binder

  Astrea dropped down beside her and placed the relic into Cornea’s hand.

  Barys’s lips twitched. The dissatisfaction was obvious—yet he forced a smile.

  A political smile.

  “Demon Queen,” he said smoothly, “we acknowledge our loss. We will aid your battle against the God of Time.”

  Then—his tone shifted.

  “But understand this: we cannot be bound by that relic. We protect the cosmos from . Our freedom is… necessary.”

  Cornea’s answer was immediate.

  “I don’t care.”

  Her voice rang across the coliseum.

  “You should have considered your ‘duties’ before

  Her obsidian eyes ignited.

  “The moment you challenged me,” she said coldly,

  “you accepted the possibility of extinction.”

  Barys clicked his tongue.

  “Tch. Stubborn brat,” he muttered. “Just like her father.”

  Then he raised his voice.

  “Guards. Dispose of them.”

  The arena exploded into motion.

  Hundreds—no, thousands

  Astrea’s eyes widened.

  “Wait—what are you—”

  The ground .

  “GRAVITY — BIND.

  The weight of existence itself slammed down on her.

  Astrea was forced to her knees—pinned, crushed, unable to teleport.

  The power of Barys.

  Enough to hold the Goddess of Space long enough to kill Cornea and Tethys.

  For the two of them, each enemy was weak.

  But together—

  They were ants. Endless. Crawling. Swarming.

  Cornea didn’t panic.

  “Tethys,” she ordered, calm and absolute.

  “I take the centre. You flank from both sides.”

  They fought.

  They slaughtered.

  But for every body that fell, two more took its place.

  Their previous duels had already drained them.

  Astrea struggled violently, but gravity denied her escape.

  The arena became a slow, suffocating collapse.

  Hopeless.

  Then—

  A black teleportation gate

  The temperature dropped.

  Every god—greater and lesser alike—felt it.

  A primal chill.

  A warning carved directly into their instincts.

  A voice echoed from the darkness.

  “So this is a buffet of parasites.”

  The gate widened.

  “So many of you,” the voice continued casually.

  “Good. I needed a warm-up.”

  Arlen stepped through.

  Not rushing.

  Not posturing.

  Like he already owned the place.

  Cornea turned—

  And her breath caught.

  Those eyes.

  The eyes she loved more than anything.

  They were still crimson.

  Still sharp.

  But something was .

  And something far worse had taken its place.

  These weren’t the eyes of someone consumed by darkness.

  These were the eyes of someone who had accepted something beyond it

  Something irreversible.

  Something catastrophic.

  Cornea’s instincts screamed.