The city of Kosei was silent.

  No more screams of battle. No more cshing steel. No war cries, no chants, no prayers.

  Just her.

  Standing at the center of it all, Reika loomed above the city’s shattered defenses, her towering form bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, her long bck kimono flowing like liquid darkness. The golden embroidery on the fabric shimmered with an unnatural radiance, her every movement carrying the weight of an untouchable goddess.

  Kosei’s elite soldiers, once proud and disciplined, now trembled like insects before a storm, their hands gripping their weapons—but none of them dared lift their bdes.

  Because they knew.

  To raise a weapon against her was not defiance.

  It was suicide.

  And at this moment, her eyes were locked onto the pace.

  The seat of Kosei’s power.

  Where those who imprisoned us sat behind closed doors, thinking themselves safe.

  Reika’s expression didn’t change.

  Her long, elegant fingers flexed slightly, and the entire city seemed to hold its breath.

  Then, she took a step forward.

  The ground shook beneath her heel, the very foundation of Kosei groaning under her weight.

  She was not attacking the city.

  She was simply too immense, too powerful—every movement warped the world around her, as if existence itself was forced to acknowledge her presence.

  And then, she spoke.

  "Bring them to me."

  Her voice was calm. Soft, almost. But it carried through the entire city, sinking into the hearts of those who heard it like a whisper from a god.

  No one moved.

  So she raised her hand.

  And suddenly, the pace trembled.

  The Terror of a Goddess

  Inside the pace, Kosei’s rulers had gathered in their war chambers, their voices hushed, their faces pale and drenched in sweat.

  General Inuoe stood rigidly, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword—but his knuckles were white, his face betraying the first signs of fear.

  Beside him, Onmyoji Master Nagai, usually composed and smug, was now visibly shaken, his eyes darting between the windows, where the shadow of Reika’s form stretched across the city.

  "This… this is impossible," he muttered, voice hoarse. "She shouldn’t be here—"

  Then the ceiling cracked.

  A massive hand—delicate yet terrifying, divine in beauty yet monstrous in scale—tore through the roof, stone and wood crumbling like paper beneath her touch.

  The entire war room colpsed in an instant, the leaders scattering like ants, some tumbling to the floor, others barely managing to stay upright.

  And then—she was there.

  Reika’s amethyst gaze peered down at them, bored yet vaguely amused, her enormous form casting a shadow over their trembling figures.

  Nagai fell backward, scrambling away, his once-pristine robes now tattered and covered in dust.

  Inuoe gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand, though his entire body was visibly shaking.

  "You…" His voice was steady, but it cked its usual authority. "What do you want?"

  Reika tilted her head slightly.

  "Just a little payback."

  She reached down, her perfectly-manicured fingers closing around Nagai first.

  The Onmyoji Master let out a strangled gasp as he was lifted into the air, his feet kicking helplessly, his once-dignified composure shattering into pure terror.

  "P-please—" he wheezed.

  Reika studied him, tilting her head, her expression unreadable.

  Then—her fingers tightened just slightly.

  The sound of his ribs cracking echoed through the chamber.

  Nagai screamed.

  It wasn’t a scream of defiance.

  It was raw, primal fear.

  The kind of fear only prey felt in the presence of something that could erase them without a second thought.

  I watched from her palm, still being held alongside Masanori and Rin, my heart pounding in my chest.

  She was going to kill them.

  And honestly?

  A part of me felt like they deserved it.

  But…

  I exhaled.

  "Stop!"

  Her gaze flickered toward me, her fingers still curled around Nagai’s squirming form.

  "Please." I swallowed. "Don’t kill them."

  She didn’t reply at first.

  For a long, excruciating moment, she simply stared at me, her expression unreadable.

  Then, slowly, she sighed.

  "Tch."

  With a flick of her wrist, she released Nagai.

  He colpsed onto the rubble-strewn ground, gasping, clutching his bruised and battered ribs, his body trembling uncontrolbly.

  Reika then turned her gaze to Inuoe, who had barely managed to stay standing, though his face was visibly drained of color.

  She took a slow step forward, lowering herself just enough so that her face was mere inches from his.

  Inuoe, for all his military pride, did not move.

  Could not move.

  Because one wrong breath, one wrong step, and she could erase him from existence.

  She exhaled softly.

  "Pitiful."

  Her words alone seemed to sink into his skin, as if they carried a weight beyond human comprehension.

  "Is this the best Kosei has to offer?" she murmured, her bored gaze drifting over the trembling war council. "Insects who throw away their allies because of their own fears?"

  No one answered.

  No one could answer.

  Because there was nothing to say.

  Finally, Reika stood upright again, her expression unmoved.

  "Be grateful," she said zily, brushing a hand through her hair.

  "I could have made this city a graveyard."

  Her amethyst gaze flickered back to me, a small smirk ghosting her lips.

  "But I was asked to show mercy."

  She turned, her long kimono trailing behind her, her heels clicking against the shattered remains of Kosei’s once-proud pace.

  "Next time," she murmured, "I won’t be so generous."

  And then—she was gone.

  Just as suddenly as she had come.

  And Kosei, for the first time in its history, was left to tremble in the shadow of a goddess who had spared them… but only once.