The void stretched endlessly around them, but it was far from empty. Stars trembled in their orbits. Comets wavered mid-flight. And countless nearby planets—realms with sentient life, civilizations, and endless oceans—became unwilling spectators to a battle no mortal eyes were ever meant to witness.
Lucien's clone hovered in the center of this cosmic stage, every muscle coiled like a spring. Buddha radiated golden light, each pulse of his aura warping the void, bending distant starlight into arcs of sheer pressure. Calystria's mirrors multiplied infinitely, reflecting shards of reality that tore at the laws of existence.
Yet, neither side was going all out.
The clone smirked. He could sense it—both Buddha and Calystria were holding back. They weren't tapping into the final form of their celestial potential. A tension hummed in the void, an electric awareness that the fight had only begun.
And then Lucien, watching from the merged Primordial Void and Metaphysical Plane, silently gifted his clone a fragment of his own power—just one percent, enough to nudge the balance further, but not enough to dominate the mortals around.
2.1 percent of Lucien's original power, the clone thought.
Not the full ocean, but a storm in a teacup… still, more than enough to tear apart this cosmos.
Even at this fraction, the Heaven-Void Paradox was terrifying. With Tian Quan Third Form as his baseline, the clone could now:
Strike from all directions at once with Omni-Strike, capable of displacing planets and distorting spacetime. Manipulate void and celestial energies to bend reality, opening rifts that allowed attacks to travel beyond the speed of light. Generate metaphysical echoes: afterimages of himself that could act independently for brief moments, duplicating attacks and confusing celestial foes. Sense the life, energy, and intent of everyone within the entire battle radius—including planets, sects, and civilizations.
He flexed his fingers casually, and the ripples from his movements disrupted the fabric of nearby worlds just enough for any intelligent being to feel it—a subtle tremor in the soul of existence.
On Azure Blue, the disciples and cultivators looked up as the night sky fractured with impossible patterns. A golden streak slashed across the heavens, mirrored by shards of infinite light. The distant stars themselves seemed to warp in response, forming geometries no human mind could comprehend.
Aelira, standing atop the Azure Celestial Sect's central spire with Umbra perched on her shoulder, gasped. A warmth surged from her chest, like a river of molten gold flowing through her veins.
Her eyes glowed.
Her bloodline, awakened by the celestial vision, surged forward—unlocking potential latent since birth.
She wasn't the only one. Across Azure Blue, from the minor sects to the grand families, prodigies felt a stirring. Even on distant planets orbiting the same star system, cultivators stopped, their bodies trembling, their senses expanded, each feeling the pulse of a power far beyond their comprehension.
From a minor mountaintop, a young girl in a small family sect's training yard collapsed to one knee, tears streaking down her face.
"My… my potential… it's… calling!"
And across the mountains, seas, and skies, hundreds, thousands, and eventually tens of thousands of mortals shared the same awakening sensation.
Back in Space — The Battle Rages
Buddha's golden aura surged, his palms cutting through the clone's omni-directional strikes. Each pulse echoed across planets, shaking tectonic plates, causing rivers to surge, volcanoes to flare, and wind to scream.
Calystria's mirrors multiplied faster than thought, reflecting attacks, deflecting stars, and warping fragments of constellations into blades. She rotated them, forming infinite spirals that could slice light itself.
Lucien's clone, with 2.1% of his father's power, laughed.
"Cute," he said, dodging a barrage of mirrors as a planet flinched in orbit. "You're so shiny, Buddha. And you—" he gestured at Calystria, "—mirror queen, stop showing off."
His foot struck the void with a casual stomp, generating a ripple that rearranged a star system's minor orbits.
"Oi, don't be upset if I move your furniture," he added, pointing to the mirrors and golden aura alike.
He flicked his fingers. Omni-strike sent phantom fists in all directions—each strike capable of shifting a moon or toppling a small planet. Buddha's sutras glowed brighter, each one now more solid than a sun, each one trying to bind the clone's movements.
Calystria folded her arms and muttered under her breath, frustrated: "He's already beyond our grasp."
Even at a mere 2.1%, Lucien's clone understood the battlefield at a metaphysical level. He could predict the outcomes of the celestial laws as they unfolded. Each fist, kick, and aura burst was placed with precision to test the limits of Buddha's constructs and Calystria's reflections, while still protecting Azure Blue.
This wasn't raw destruction—it was performance art on a cosmic scale.
He utilized Tian Quan like a symphony:
First Form: Subtle strikes that could displace moons. Second Form: Omnidirectional assaults that tore through void and light. Third Form (Current): Heaven-Disrupting Annihilation Kick, now enhanced to distort celestial law subtly without catastrophic collapse.
Every movement was calculated, every strike contained, yet visually stunning: fists colliding with golden light, mirrored blades slicing through stars, and void rifts spiraling into infinite fractals.
Aelira's Awakening-
The celestial vision reached her full awareness. She inhaled sharply, and Umbra squirmed in excitement.
"Father… the stars… they're… calling me," she whispered.
She extended her hands, and the celestial qi of Azure Blue itself seemed to respond, swirling in radiant streams around her fingers.
Across the planet, prodigies instinctively knelt or steadied themselves, overwhelmed by the shared surge of divine resonance.
Lucien's clone noticed it in an instant.
Perfect.
He smirked. The awakening of Azure Blue's next generation wasn't a byproduct—he intended it. It was a lesson in power, resilience, and inheritance.
With 2.1% of Lucien's original power, the clone could now:
Break through near-celestial barriers with calculated precision. Manipulate life, death, and natural laws in localized regions without alerting the True Ones. Move faster than thought, strike from infinite angles, and sustain simultaneous attacks across multiple celestial coordinates. Sense the potential of mortals, prodigies, and sect disciples across entire planets.
He was a walking paradox: a fragment of omnipotence in mortal combat, a god in shadow, and a teacher watching the awakening of worlds.
Buddha's fist struck the void, colliding with the clone's phantom omni-strikes.
The collision rippled outward, sending stellar systems quaking.
Calystra's mirrors danced, creating pseudo-planets as shields, yet still, the clone laughed.
The heavens themselves seemed to pause, aware that these mortals—especially the clone—were playing at a level unbefitting their station.
Lucien, watching from his throne in the merged void, leaned back and whispered:
"Not bad… not bad at all. Another one percent… enjoy it, my little paradox."
The clone grinned. He understood his father's silent gift. Every ounce of control, every fraction of power was a seed, and he would harvest it, carefully, for what was to come.
Even restrained, the fight reshaped the cosmos:
Orbits shifted minutely, enough for astronomers on nearby planets to question reality. Auroras danced violently across Azure Blue. Prodigies everywhere felt an inexplicable surge of awakening. Mortals caught glimpses of impossible geometries, frozen in awe and terror.
And yet, nothing broke.
The final state of Buddha and Calystria hadn't even been revealed.
The real Lucien, watching silently, leaned back on his obsidian throne, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
This is only the beginning.
The heavens themselves seemed to hold its breath.
And in the next moment—
a new, unseen strike would alter the rules of the fight entirely.