When Crimson Moon realized that the Magic Sword: True World had begun to re-manifest along with countless conceptual layers of action, she immediately sensed something was wrong.
According to her plans, this sword should only have fully taken shape after the death of the planet. Its very concept was to restore the Earth's lost Age of Gods after the planet's end. In short—such a weapon was never meant to exist here and now, let alone within the Sea of the Planet.
The so-called Sea of the Planet is, in essence, the "inner heart" of a planet when viewed as a living being—akin to the magi's sorcery that gives form to their inner landscapes, the Reality Marble. In other words, the Sea of the Planet is the planet's own Reality Marble.
And because Earth itself is vast, its "hearts" exist in plurality—some closer to human society, some turned away from it, some critical of it. The Avalon that is so well known is but one of these—a realm aligned with nature, a world refusing contact with human civilization.
But the Age of Gods on this planet has long since ended!
How could such a thing be happening now?!
The sudden reversal left Crimson Moon aghast. If the True World were to be destroyed or erased along with her, then all hope of resurrection would vanish. She had abandoned the star being trampled by alien steel, forsaken her seat as the Moon's Ultimate One, all to claim Earth for herself—yet now, everything risked collapsing into failure…
"Crimson Moon, it's time you went back. A king who abandons the world they are meant to protect—has no right to rule."
Avia's words carried killing intent sharper than blades, cold and unyielding, yet spoken with the ease of breathing. He gazed at Crimson Moon, who clutched the True World sword with uncharacteristic hesitation.
The True World's foremost function was the revival of the Age of Gods. And indeed, the surge of divine essence flooding the chamber seemed to confirm its purpose. But was the origin source here first, perfecting the sword? Or was it the completion of the sword that summoned this source?
Even Avia, like Crimson Moon, could not tell which came first.
But one thing he could not accept: the Age of Gods must never return. Only with its end could a true Age of Man begin.
By theory, a world governed by the Moon Cell should have made Crimson Moon's existence impossible. The Moon Cell is the all-recording "Eye of the Moon," the TYPE MOON without a holder. Yet both were now present. That contradiction gave Avia all the clues he needed.
The Titan had doubtless been locked within the Moon by the Moon Cell, becoming its Ultimate One. Which meant that when the Titan arrived, Crimson Moon had fled, abandoning her position as UO. Later, when Earth's consciousness grew restless upon humanity's rise as primates, she struck a bargain with the planet—
To create the True World.
But in truth, it was nothing more than a lie spun to gain dominion over Earth.
"Time turns oceans to mulberry fields,
the deeds of heroes sink into dust,
while roots of verdant trees still cling to the earth,
yet the new voice of steel shall echo to the farthest skies."
"Therefore, it is always the same—the Age of Gods has ended. The powers of the past were nothing more than protections for a humanity not yet strong enough to face calamity."
As Avia's words fell, a summoning array bloomed beneath the crimson cross-shaped field of flowers.
Endless magma surged upward, over a thousand degrees, painting the once-luxurious chamber in a sea of red. From the molten ruin, within this Millennium Castle, something vast began to take shape. Perhaps remnants of past battles lingered here: countless artillery barrels floated, suspended in air; magma scattered like flower petals; and behind them all—
The colossal form that emerged was like the primeval dragon of Greek myth, the enemy of the king of gods himself.
The true mechanical body of the Primordial Greek Dragon, Typhon had descended once more.
At Avia's summons, Typhon instinctively opened its inner compartments. After all, she could just barely be counted as a Machine God. Having stolen the schematics of Zeus, she had modified her frame extensively.
"...Damn."
Crimson Moon now faced Typhon in full combat deployment, cooling fins spreading, liquid magma seeping out to fill the twin cannon-barrels that resembled giant lances.
With Moonfall beyond her reach, she had no idea how to resist, no escape within this chamber, the True World's bindings holding her in place.
In the instant of her hesitation, Typhon's cannons fired.
The first shell struck as predicted, and she evaded—but half the room was obliterated in the blast.
The second, third, and fourth shells followed—falling like a cage from above.
The second shell blasted her aside, hurling her against the wall.
The third grazed her nose as she dashed to avoid it.
The fourth struck her hand, forcing it to warp and regenerate.
"Such worthless scrap metal—!"
But then came the fifth.
The shell screamed forth at impossible speed, like a lance hurled by a hero, pinning Crimson Moon's movements inescapably.
"You think you can kill me? Hah! Impossible. At best, you destroy Arcueid's body. At your level, such attacks can never—"
Suddenly Crimson Moon broke into laughter, her bell-like voice echoing. But then she froze, eyes wide, as runes flared to life across Typhon's frame.
The youth closed his eyes. Slowly, steadily, Avia breathed.
That alone gathered a pressure of magecraft so immense it curdled the air.
It was as though all the divine essence present were compressed into his body. Something alien, terrifying, was born within him.
His twin wings interlocked with a mechanical clatter, like the startup of some great machine.
Avia's armor shell and dragon-wings fused intricately together, altering Typhon's combat frame along with him.
Seventy percent of his body was now armored in a massive cannon-muzzle, condensing magical power to rival even the King of Gods, Zeus.
In myth, each deity is defined by their authority and their weapons. For Zeus, that was Thunder—Keraunos.
The authority of the King of Greek Gods, fused with the Primordial Runes of the Norse All-Father.
Now, the powers of god and great god had reached their threshold.
This is nature's ultimate terror. Its name is—
"Thou art, the Thunder that Rends the Cosmos."
The vortex of lightning rose, painted crimson and black, the embodiment of destruction that could evaporate worlds. Defying all physical law, the storm vibrated with absolute force—nothing could stand before it. All matter was reduced to molecules.
And by the power of the runes, it passed beyond mere flesh, rending directly into Crimson Moon's very conceptual layers of action.
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