The moment the Emperor shifted his stance, the world shuddered.
Zero exhaled once—slow, controlled—and frost spiraled from his fingertips like a living thing responding to its master. His mana base screamed under the pressure, but he ignored the strain. Aamon's twisted aura surged violently in front of him, but Zero wasn't looking at the devil anymore. His focus locked onto the Emperor of Destruction beside him.
They didn't speak.
They didn't need to.
The Emperor tilted his hand, and the sphere of Cataclysmic Destruction rippled like the surface of a dark ocean, pulling everything nearby into its gravity. Zero raised his right hand, frost swirling upward in a vortex of white-blue energy, cold enough to distort the air. A thin streak of pale light formed, sharpening as if reality itself were being carved open.
Then—impact.
The two forces collided.
The contact point between frost and destruction did not simply merge—they erupted.
