The battlefield was chaos, a whirlwind of destruction and suffering. Umbra's wives fought valiantly, bloodied and bruised, barely holding back the tides of enemies that descended upon them. The Godhand watched from their position, confident in their victory, believing the battle was theirs. But everything changed in an instant.
Uraume's body was no longer the same.
Her once calm and stoic demeanor shifted as the tattoos that marked her body pulsed with an otherworldly glow. The moment had come—the moment that everyone would soon regret. A surge of power rippled through her, and the ground beneath her feet trembled. The very air around her warped as if reality itself was bending, struggling to contain the impossible power that was now awakening.
Then, from within Uraume, Umbra returned.
It was as if the universe held its breath. Time slowed, and every soul—be they Absolute Being, angel, or higher-up—felt an indescribable terror wash over them. In an instant, Umbra's presence alone began to unravel everything around him. His return was not just a resurrection; it was an undeniable reckoning.
Absolute Beings, once invincible entities, began to disappear. Some were erased in the blink of an eye—instantaneously reduced to nothing. Others suffered a slower, more excruciating erasure. They screamed as their very existence was peeled away, layer by layer, each moment stretching into an eternity of agony before they were finally gone.
The angels, with their divine wings and celestial power, fared no better. Their light flickered and dimmed as they were wiped from existence. Higher-ups, who once believed themselves untouchable, could only look on in terror as they, too, began to fade. The power they once wielded was useless, their bodies and souls disintegrating in the wake of Umbra's presence.
The destruction rippled outward, reaching across galaxies, tearing apart entire universes. One after another, they collapsed into nothingness, vanishing from existence as though they had never been. Even the stars blinked out, their light swallowed by the void left in Umbra's wake.
The Godhand, standing on the battlefield, watched in horror as they slowly realized the true magnitude of the power they were now facing. They had believed themselves superior, masters of life and death. But now, they were face-to-face with the One True King—the very embodiment of destruction and creation.
They could feel it too—the slow crawl of erasure that began to touch their reality. They were not immune. They were fading as well, but unlike the Absolute Beings, their end was coming slower. Each breath they took was filled with the weight of impending doom, and for the first time in their existence, fear truly gripped them.
The leader of the Godhand clenched his fists, his voice trembling as he tried to process the situation. "This… this is impossible. How can he…?"
The other members of the Godhand exchanged glances, their eyes wide with disbelief. They had never known fear like this. Even as their minds struggled to comprehend the extent of Umbra's power, they were not prepared for the slow erasure that crawled through the universes, creeping toward them.
In the midst of the annihilation, Umbra's focus shifted. He looked at his wives, who had fought to their limits to protect their family and his legacy. With a single thought, he created a protective barrier around them—a shimmering bubble that separated them from the chaos outside. They were safe, untouched by the erasing force that was wiping everything else from existence. Their wounds began to heal as they were enveloped in the bubble, and they could only watch as the destruction unfolded beyond the barrier.
Akari, Selene, Nyxara, Aeloria, and Seraphina looked at each other, realizing what had just happened. They had been saved—spared from the fate of the Absolute Beings and angels that had dared to challenge Umbra.
The Godhand, however, still remained. The slow erasure gnawed at them, but they had not yet been fully undone. They stood in stunned silence, their once-unshakable confidence reduced to ash. They were the highest of the high, the most powerful beings in existence—yet here they were, standing before an enemy they could not hope to defeat.
One of the Godhand members, his face contorted in fear and confusion, whispered, "This... this isn't how it was supposed to be. We are the Godhand. We are the ones who decide who lives and dies!"
But Umbra said nothing. He didn't need to.
The ground beneath the Godhand began to crack, fracturing under the weight of the power that surged from Umbra's presence. Even the universes themselves—the very fabric of reality—were being unraveled around them. But unlike the others, the Godhand were not erased entirely. They remained, their forms slowly dissolving, but they were not yet gone. Umbra had chosen to let them live—if only for a little longer.
The leader of the Godhand looked at his fading hands, then back at Umbra, his voice barely above a whisper. "What… what are you?"
No answer came.
And then, as the universes continued to collapse around them, the Godhand finally understood. They had not been fighting a man, nor a king—they had been fighting a force beyond their comprehension. The One True King had returned, and his wrath was absolute.