The battle reached its climax, a dazzling storm of divine might and collapsing space. For over a hundred exchanges, both sides clashed like celestial calamities, each strike enough to erase small planets, each counter a dance of laws and raw destruction. From a distance, it seed they were evenly matched — two titans locked in an eternal struggle.
But the truth was far more one-sided.
The warrior from the Sanctum felt it deep in his bones — a creeping, oppressive truth he could no longer deny.
He was being suppressed.
Apollo, radiant with silver light and ever-growing power, was clearly holding back. Each attack he launched was controlled, deliberate — not because he couldn’t go further, but because he chose not to. anwhile, the man from the Sanctum was being slowly, relentlessly pushed back.
His breaths grew heavier. The divine energy in his body began to falter. And worst of all, the suppression of the Sanctum itself was beginning to eat away at his strength — like invisible chains tightening with every mont he fought.
His expression paled. He gritted his teeth.
He had faced many geniuses during previous openings of the Sanctum. So were arrogant, others cautious. But almost always, once they felt the difference in power, they would do the smart thing — they ran.
But this one... this silver-eyed youth... didn’t run. He pressed forward like a force of nature.
The Sanctum warrior’s heart sank.
If he didn’t retreat now, he might not get another chance. He had underestimated the boy — no, this monster in human skin — and now he could almost feel his ancient bones trembling under the pressure.
"Had I not run," he muttered under his breath, gaze filled with disbelief, "my ancient remains might have stayed buried in this forgotten battlefield..."
And with that bitter thought, he prepared to flee — pride shattered, and survival now his only goal.
Apollo naturally noticed this and quickly understood the guy’s thought.
"Hmm, you wish. Co continue to fight for a few more hours." His voice echoed across the shattered battlefield, like silver bells tolling in a frozen abyss.
Ever since the battle began, his lunar law had been resonating — subtly shifting, deepening with each exchange. The collision between his evolving law and the opponent’s Rule of Ice had created the perfect storm of enlightennt. With every clash, every flicker of resistance, Apollo was peeling back another layer of mystery.
He could feel it. He was close.
On the very edge of transformation.
If he could push this fight just a little further... just a little longer... he was certain his Lunar Law would take the leap toward a true Rule.
There was no way he’d let this opportunity slip. No way he’d let this man run.
His aura surged violently, and the battlefield responded — silver light mixed with streaks of moonlight rained down from above, sealing space, slicing open rifts, and locking the sanctum warrior’s path of retreat.
"You’re not leaving," Apollo declared, his voice like the judgent of the heavens, "until I’ve broken through."
His aura flared, and then he burst out with all his strength; his divine body, which can take on high-level divine weapons, exploded.
Every muscle, every thread of spiritual essence ignited, unleashing power so vast it caused space itself to convulse. Dim cracks laced the sky, and ti felt as though it were beginning to slow.
His fist rose — wrapped not in re energy but in eternal moonlight, glowing with a silvery brilliance so pure it made the stars above seem dull. It was a divine light, but beneath its beauty was a cold so profound that even the countless layers of space began to shatter around it. A frigid, silent dominion that froze sound, sight, and sensation.
A fist like a falling moon.
A teor forged from law and will.
That single strike descended — no longer just a blow but a cosmic judgent, radiating with ancient chill and unstoppable force. As it fell toward the Sanctum warrior, the world beneath trembled like it awaited the impact of a god.
The man looked up, face pale with disbelief, his body frozen — not by fear, but by the sheer suppression of the incoming force.
"Damn, you pushed !"
Crack!
So seal within him seed to break as he was pushed to the corner. His aura, which had weakened, suddenly started to rise rapidly. It quickly seed to have surpassed true god level and reached eternal god level.
The skies darkened. The earth wailed.
"Die!" he roared, and the world itself seed to answer his fury.
BOOM!
A detonation of power ripped across the battlefield. His once sharp and elegant Rule of Ice transford, evolving to a terrifying second layer. It wasn’t just cold anymore — it was primordial, a force of creation and extinction. Creation of a shocking ice age that seems even able to freeze a burning sun.
Everything began to crystallise — air, space, light, even sound.
But Apollo stood still at the heart of it all, the eye of the storm. The radiant silver glow around him didn’t dim — instead, it pulsed brighter.
Because within this calamity, within this overwhelming pressure...he could feel it.
His lunar law was trembling, shifting, ready.
"So this... is the pressure needed to reach the next step," he whispered, eyes glowing like moonlit stars.
"Bring it on!"
He roared and also poured everything and punched again with all his strength. His body burnt with divine energy as the lunar law seed to flicker as it seed to push the final barrier and started to gather the strength of the universe with his attack.
The heavens shook in resonance as the divine law drew the breath of the universe itself — starlight, void currents, celestial fragnts — all coalescing into the strike.
His body beca a beacon of moonlit majesty, radiating cold serenity and devastating power.
The two gods — one shrouded in ancient ice, the other wrapped in lunar brilliance — hurled themselves at each other one final ti.
BOOM!!
Their clash shattered thousands of miles of land. Mountains were flattened, and the sky cracked open like glass under divine fists.
Crack!
A sound echoed, not just across the world — but through the laws themselves.
"No!!!" the sanctum warrior scread, his face twisting in disbelief.
In that instant, Apollo’s Lunar Law erupted.
It was no longer just law.
It had beco a rule — vast, eternal, and unshakeable. The Rule of the Moon — embodying silence, gravity, and ice — is a cosmic force of balance and beauty. Silver light bathed everything, purifying the battlefield, silencing all resistance.
Apollo’s punch crashed through the defences, through the second-layer Rule of Ice — and struck true.
The sanctum warrior’s body convulsed under the blow. His body cracked, his aura collapsed, and with one last cry of despair, he was flung across the horizon, his form breaking apart into frozen dust under the moonlit radiance.
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