Morgana had waited long enough. Through duel after duel, she’d kept her composure, holding back her wrath, her need to intervene. But now it was her turn. Her crimson gaze burned as she stepped into the arena, and a suffocating pressure rippled through the entire coliseum.
Across from her stood Kronos, fully restored, his armor glistening, his power undeniable. Yet beneath the divine calm was a crack of irritation. He had been played. A god of his stature, manipulated by mortals he once considered dust.
He let out a slow, disdainful breath. "No matter how many tricks you throw at , the result will be the sa. None of you can defeat ."
Morgana didn’t respond with words.
She raised both palms, and flas erupted. Not ordinary fire, but one filled with the power of the cosmos, the signature of a Grand Magus realm. The spectators roared, startled by the reveal. The Earth faction had finally unleashed their strongest.
Kronos sneered. "Hmph. Just how recently did you break through? ...barely a kid..."
But Morgana wasn’t done.
With a subtle motion of her fingers, the cosmic fire shifted—its vibrant light darkening into a black-violet hue, deeper than night. Another power fused into the fla:
Khaos.
The two energies rged, spiraling together in a perfect storm of celestial order and abyssal entropy. The entire battlefield seed to tighten.
On the scoreboard, Earth now held eight victories to Kronos faction’s seven. Both had one warrior left. Yet with Ery still unseen and Kronos’s camp devoid of any other Grand Magus, both sides knew the truth:
This duel would decide it all.
Tension gripped the coliseum.
Hers, normally jovial, stood somberly as he raised his hand. Even his divine visage couldn’t hide the concern tightening his features.
He looked between the two combatants and called out:
"Let the duel begin."
This ti, it was Kronos who moved first.
Without hesitation, he lifted his hand and invoked a spell familiar to those who had watched him dominate his previous opponents:
[Temporal Rift Cascade]
The space around him fractured with a tallic screech, light splitting in unnatural directions. From the folds of ti, two phantoms erged—perfect replicas of Kronos himself, each wielding identical scythes and cloaked in divine aura. They were manifestations from alternate tilines, each revealing Kronos’s full might.
Spectators roared at the spectacle, but the sharpest minds among them noticed sothing beneath the display.
This was no longer the arrogant god from before. He was calculating, wary of his opponent’s power. The phantoms weren’t just to overwhelm Morgana—they were sent to asure her.
Unlike the calculative Julian, Morgana didn’t strategize or overthink. No matter the numbers, no matter the strength of her opponents—she would face them all head-on.
She raised her arms and unleashed her fury.
[Hell Fla].
A swirling torrent of dark fire exploded outward, rushing like a dragon unleashed. The sheer heat bent the arena’s protective barriers. The flas roared into the two phantoms, halting their charge.
The crowd gasped.
This was no ordinary spell. Hell Fla, despite its high grade, was a Tier 6 Magus spell. But under Morgana’s command, it roared with the force of a Tier 7 or even higher, pushing the phantom Grand Magus back several paces.
Kronos scowled.
"Not bad..." he muttered. Then he raised his voice. "But I’m not impressed!"
With that, the phantoms surged forward again, this ti channeling raw cosmic energy into their blades. The scythes glowed with starlight and cut clean through the sea of fla. The inferno split apart, revealing Morgana beyond.
But what they found beyond the flas stunned them.
Still standing. Still unfazed.
But she had changed.
From amid the dissipating hellfire, a new silhouette erged.
Dark fur crept across Morgana’s shoulders and down her arms, each strand shimring like obsidian glass. Muscles rippling beneath midnight skin. She threw her head back and howled—a sound that shook every soul watching. On her arms, forehead, and the ridges beneath her eyes, crimson runes ignited one by one, forming a lattice of ancient sigils.
Jagged shards of crystallized fur armored her forearms, ending in razor talons that hissed with residual fla. Every breath she exhaled ca out as black‑violet fire, searing the ground beneath her feet.
The two phantom Kronoses attacked in unison, scythes carving arcs of starlight.
Morgana didn’t retreat. She t the attack head-on, crossing her clawed arms.
BOOOOM!
The collision sent a violent shockwave that rattled the arena walls. A plu of smoke erupted, debris spraying in every direction. When it cleared, Morgana stood untouched, dark flas licking across her fra.
Gasps rippled through the stands.
"She’s a halfblood!"
"A Grand Magus-tier halfblood? That power... it must be a mythical gene!"
What followed was a breathtaking clash. Two veteran Grand Magus against a young female halfblood. Scythes spun through the air like wheels of fate, colliding with feral strikes and waves of cosmic fire. Her movents were fluid yet brutal, rging martial precision with magical chaos.
And she held her ground.
The real Kronos observed with a chilling calm. The god of ti didn’t rely watch—he asured.
He scoffed.
"A half-blood does have a dominating physique," Kronos muttered. "But can you fight the flow of ti itself?"
And with that whisper, he moved in.
The real Kronos joined the battle, not with sound, but with a ripple. Reality bent. His strike wasn’t just fast—it was out of sequence. Covered in waves of temporal distortion, his scythe warped the air itself, an attack that his phantoms could not show.
Even in her enhanced state, Morgana couldn’t react in ti. Her claws slashed through a silhouette—an afterimage already displaced—while the real blade passed cleanly through.
SPLAATT!!
A searing arc split open her shoulder. Blood sprayed like molten fire as Kronos’s scythe carved a perfect, soundless curve through her flesh.
Pain exploded across her body, staggering her, breaking her rhythm for a breathless instant.
The two phantoms dove in, scythes raised high, eager to capitalize on her mont of weakness.
But Morgana was not finished.
She exhaled.
And then, she whispered one word.
"Killgragah."
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