The divine pressure affected her a little, but not too much. Compared to Rip Hunter—whose lips were trembling so hard he could barely speak—Thea's composure radiated the aura of a true powerhouse.
"Captain, you go arrest Vandal Savage. He's right down there and already powerless to resist. As for this big guy—leave him to me!"
Thea actually laughed after saying that. Not because she remembered some joke, but because her soul was trembling with excitement. Her smile brimmed with battle spirit, blood boiling hot. Finally—a worthy opponent! A real, bona fide god! If she could fight such a being head-on, she could return to her timeline with no regrets.
The unicorn sensed her overwhelming fighting intent and voluntarily released part of its control, allowing Thea's aura to surge even higher.
Rip Hunter also knew there was no way he could stop either of them. Since they both wanted to fight—fine. "You two go ahead. I'll go catch Vandal first!"
He commanded the Waverider to blast open the door. After only a few shots, the gate exploded inward. He ordered the Atom, Sara, and Captain Cold—all seriously wounded—to stay behind and hold the ship.
The remaining members—Firestorm, Heatwave, and Hawkgirl—followed him to capture old man Vandal Savage.
The clouds overhead thickened. Despite unleashing every bit of its might, the god's talons could hardly break through the spatial barrier. Finally losing patience with divine dignity, a massive leg forced its way out of the rift, pushing and clawing to squeeze through.
Thea naturally wouldn't just stand by and watch. Let the villain do whatever he wanted? No way! She wasn't that stupid. Yes—she believed she was justice itself, and thus her enemy was evil! She thought it, and she acted on it. After syncing with the unicorn, the emblem on the back of her cape changed—the original unicorn mark was replaced by two large characters: "Justice!" Anyone opposing her was a villain—or a wicked god!
Should she rush up and kick him back in? Tempting idea… but no. The enemy's strength was unknown. If she got pulled in with him, she'd have nowhere to cry.
If close combat was too risky, then ranged combat it was. Even though Thea now looked like a golden paladin in armor and helm, that was only appearance. The unicorn, for all its might, was still a magic-side creature of myth—its power lay purely in magic.
"De e-ce... agus akasha..." Thea began chanting the strongest spell from the unicorn's memories. Not only did she use the hand signs, but this incantation was far longer than any before. As the magic gathered around her, the air fell into absolute silence. She and Horus—who was forcing his way through the boundary—became two opposing whirlpools, each drawing in the world's mana with terrifying greed.
Horus was no ordinary being. Feeling his own crisis, he pushed harder against the rift. A falcon's head emerged halfway through; his right eye gleamed with the boundless wisdom of a god, while his left eye burned with hatred and malice—fixing on Thea with a deadly stare.
Even from a single glance, Thea—whose power had climbed to divine level—understood everything. Horus's left eye had once existed in the mortal world, later forged into the artifact known as the Eye of Horus. That artifact had been reclaimed by Horus himself and entrusted to Osiris for safekeeping. His current right eye was his true divine eye—meaning the left one must have been Vandal's sacrifice.
Could his right eye be made into an artifact too? Thea couldn't help but wonder. That eye looked like it could see through all creation—truly tempting. Anything the god of the underworld once desired had to be far more valuable than scepters or orbs.
No matter how this fight ended, she was determined to keep that eye. Worst case, she'd grab it and run. As for the left one, she'd graciously let him have it—its hateful glare already made her feel she'd have nightmares just looking at it.
After three minutes of chanting, the spell was finally ready. Perhaps because this was a world ruled by technology, the spellcasting felt awkwardly sluggish; otherwise, Thea would never have struggled this much even on her first try.
"Blazing Cloud Art!"
She pointed toward Horus's half-emerged form, and a massive crimson cloud burst into existence, engulfing the god who was still trying to squeeze through.
Within that cloud, immense heat and light energy built up—dozens of explosions erupted every second, and the released energy didn't dissipate. It was trapped, condensed, and exploded again—over and over.
Theoretically, this cycle of explosions would continue endlessly, the energy compounding each time. The more the enemy was wounded, the more destructive the blast became.
From the outside, the cloud was opaque, but as the caster, Thea could see everything. The god, for reasons unknown—boredom, arrogance, who knew—kept pushing forward, ignoring the explosions. A faint divine barrier shimmered around his body, fragile as candlelight in a storm, yet it somehow held amid the continuous blasts.
Impressive. As expected, magic's power was greatly reduced against divine beings. This was something passed down in Merlin's bloodline—apparently, her ancestor had once done something similar. Truly, a family tradition worth remembering.
If area damage didn't work, then try pinpoint damage. As a modern woman raised on science, Thea's thinking was far more flexible than the ancients'.
This time she skipped the lengthy spellwork—this was pure energy combat.
Gathering all her light energy at her fingertips, compressing it again and again, she aligned her fingers and aimed at Horus—still standing there like a target dummy.
"Makankōsappō!"
Yes, that's right. Thea thought this move looked exactly like a certain demon king's signature attack from a famous comic, so she shamelessly borrowed the name. The principle was about the same anyway.
A spiraling column of energy formed, feeding acceleration into the main beam. At first it moved slowly—too dense to travel fast—but it gained speed rapidly, breaking through the air. The distance between her and Horus was nearly two kilometers, yet under that spiraling acceleration, the beam almost tore through space itself.
Psh! The beam pierced Horus's divine body, leaving a small hole the size of a human finger.
For a god five or six meters tall, it wasn't a serious wound—but being injured by a mortal? That he could not tolerate. The falcon head threw back in a roar of some unearthly language, and his entire body began to swell, as though he intended to forcefully descend into the world.
"Oh come on—I just shaved off a bit of his HP! You call this an overreaction?" Thea muttered. She wasn't exaggerating—only a single drop of blood spilled from the wound, glimmering gold. The wound itself healed almost instantly, but that golden droplet fell, uncontrolled, to the ground.
Divine blood!
Thea's eyes followed the falling drop, temptation stirring. This was the kind of thing that launched protagonists to greatness—and it was her spoil of war! Still, diving for it like a greedy dog would be beneath her. She was fighting a god, after all. Even if he didn't recognize her as an equal, she had to at least look dignified!
She carefully marked the landing spot of the divine blood and didn't pause—just kept firing.
Psh! Psh! Psh!
Three more shots in rapid succession. Thea was utterly drained, and as for Horus—being used as a literal target dummy—he looked even worse.