In a room gilded to blinding, gold pooled like sunshine and gems lay like frozen stars; any normal soul would’ve gasped at the splendor.

Pity—the only two here weren’t normal.

Two streaks of light crossed; sparks blossomed; jewels skittered like startled minnows.

Shock first, then a prickle of heat—the girl saw this God-King barely keep pace with her speed and strength.

Strain gnawed him like frost. He pushed to track her, and only millions of years of honed instinct—and her laughably crude form, more like retirement-home tai chi taught in a kindergarten—kept him from losing already.

The thought stung; bitterness tasted like iron. He’d bled out eons for this power, and she—new to it, using not even half its efficiency—still fought him even.

Bang!!

Catching a gap, the God-King fired a Sacred Round. It hammered her into the wall; stone cracked like ice on a river.

“Hey. Unknown creature, where’d you get that power?”

Annoyance cooled into a smile. She rose from rubble, brushed dust that wasn’t there, blue eyes glittering like winter lakes.

“Take a guess.”

The words hadn’t reached his ears when her silhouette bloomed before him.

Startled, he snapped a Sevenfold Sacred Shield into place.

It crumpled like paper. That rosy little fist paused a heartbeat, then—crack—the layers shattered.

Her candy-pink knuckles crashed home. The God-King burst into pieces; golden blood and gleaming meat pattered down like spilled coins and petals.

“Huh? Dead? That’s it? Lame. I thought we had another round.”

She sighed, missing the way flesh behind her gathered like a tide, knitting him back together.

He reformed, seized the moment, clamped hands under her arms; mana became spectral limbs that bound her tight.

“Eh?”

Before she could react, her body wouldn’t move. His voice slid into her ear like a knife in silk.

“Unknown creature, I don’t know where you came from or why. But hear this: so long as the temple stands, I don’t die. Worst case, I grind you down till you can’t fight, then I kill you. So, how about a deal?”

Irritation flared, then a cool, hard calm. Eighteen for real, she didn’t buy his “immortal” act; energy doesn’t balance forever. Kill fast, drain him dry—immortal becomes a joke. Still, a deal could be fun. She’d hear him out.

“Talk.”

Feeling her stop struggling, he exhaled, relief like warm wind.

“Three terms, and we’re square. First, from now on, we don’t interfere with each other. Second, you owe me one favor anytime. Third, I want to couple with you. We’re both strong; I’ve hit a bottleneck. If I unite with a powerful woman, I can advance. And I’m handsome. You won’t lose out.”

Her face darkened—storm over snow. She regretted listening at all.

Not only was there nothing for her in this “deal”; he even wanted her body. The very problem she’d dodged since she transmigrated, tossed out so casually.

Heat surged like a bonfire. Her restless mana shivered, a visible haze of rage.

He felt that static prickle and frowned, baffled.

“What? Those terms aren’t good enough?”

Perfect. He’d found the fuse.

She flexed; his bindings snapped like dry reeds. Her right hand closed on air, and the bizarre book she’d crossed over with unfolded in her palm.

She fed mana into it, slow as pouring tea. Letters unfurled across the page.

[The sphere of mana the girl condenses shreds everything in the temple. With the God-King’s unwilling roar—“Bastard, don’t!”—the God-King and the gods fall from the world...]

One minute into the future. Good. He’s done. A dangerous smile tugged her mouth. She lifted her head to the God-King. Time to flex; let the thrill of the show mop up her anger.

He caught the kill-cold in her eyes and stiffened.

“What? You still want to keep going? I told you—you're doomed.”

She didn’t bother to answer. She raised both hands and gathered the green sphere she knew best.

He’d tasted her Magic Cannon before. Power scaled with mana, sure, but he’d taken her “full power” shot earlier; his strongest defense had held. So he planted his fists on his hips, cocky, and watched to see what this little girl could do.

Twenty seconds later, he regretted it.

The Magic Cannon was ten times bigger—and still swelling, a geometric bloom like a storm cloud fed by the sea.

“Enough. Stop!!”

He roared and hurled mana into the green sphere, trying to scramble its weave and snuff it from within, peppering her with painless strikes to break her focus.

Thirty more seconds. The sphere didn’t fade. It drank his power like rain, then swelled again.

The orb shuddered hard, an overfilled bladder of light, wildly unstable. Hope flickered in his eyes; any second, it would rip itself apart.

But hope always walks with despair. Where hope stands, despair crouches. The sphere didn’t vanish. It burst like a water balloon—then scattered into countless lances.

Beams of green carved through his labor of millions of years. Columns toppled like felled pines. Walls blew apart like sandcastles. Home, gone. The ten thousand brothers who could’ve been revived, gone.

He stared, empty as ash. One green pillar turned and found him. He drew breath for a final, furious scream.

The quiet girl spoke again.

“Your next line is—‘Bastard, don’t!’”

“Bastard, don’t!”

Two identical lines overlapped, absurd and perfect.

The temple’s fall dragged the God-King down. The divine realm slipped off the world’s stage. Maybe his resentment would haunt her, a cold wind at her back. Not her problem, not today.