Chapter 90
In the history of the game, many believed that this technique was the manifestation of contradiction, an art that borrowed suffering to create a new form of balance.
For Theo, this technique was not merely a part of his repertoire, but a symbol of how pain could be reshaped into an unbreakable resolve.
And that was why this technique must not be wasted.
'My green slash does not destroy Fides Regnat, but awakens it.'
Nguuaaaang!
'Aldraya's power grows wild, surpassing her own control.Each authority of hers becomes fertile, frenzied, creating and destroying at once.'
Nnguang – nguang – nguang!!
'One swing of mine turns her stage into a cosmic explosion they were never prepared to withstand, until even reality holds its breath.'
The courtroom, once silent and framed perfectly like crystal, felt as though it had stopped breathing the moment that green slash began to move.
There was no sound accompanying Theo's sword, only a subtle vibration resonating from the center of his intention.
He swung his blade not as a warrior overtaken by rage, but as a writer correcting his own poem.
When the swamp-green color of the technique dragged him closer to the heavenly layer of Aldraya's reality, time drew tight and leaned forward, as if reluctant to let such an event truly occur.
Yet the momentum could not be halted.
What emerged was not an explosion, but a divine acceleration that pressed down upon space and existence.
At one thousand percent, Tapsry's book of fate opened a new page of light, writing possibilities never imagined even by the Guardian of History.
The wind of destiny that emerged from that writing shifted the boundaries of consciousness of all beings present in that courtroom.
The rising force of the technique compelled the axis of the Axs La universe to rotate far faster than usual.
At two thousand five hundred percent, each rotation created miniature galaxies leaping like sparks of stars born from the hands of a world-maker.
The sacred courtroom expanded into a young and turbulent cosmos, filled with eruptions of energy still growing.
When the force reached five thousand percent, Regord's dream-fog became so dense that the scattered dreams within began to construct their own worlds, forming little chains of reality breathing within that cosmic spectacle.
Ahael's scales became so sensitive that they could weigh the hidden intentions in the deepest chambers of the Administrators' hearts.
No thought escaped.
No plan remained concealed.
Every vibration in their souls turned into a weight that made the scales tremble without end.
The peak of that strength arrived when ten thousand percent was surpassed.
The eyes of the Matriarch, long the symbol of ultimate knowledge, trembled and blinked.
In that astonishing instant, all knowledge no longer appeared as her possession, but as a great flood rushing wildly through her awareness.
Within that flash was revealed all potential for creation and ruin, forcing her body to withstand the torrent visible only to beings of her level.
The shadows of Quil Hasa pulsing across the stage throbbed with a force eerily similar to the heartbeat of reality itself, making every creature nearby shudder to the roots of their existence.
The cosmic explosion created was no longer a mere amplification of power, but a new life demanding to be born—wild and uncontrollable.
In the midst of all this, Aldraya received the heaviest impact.
Her power became too alive and too aware of itself, a blessing turned curse as she was forced to contain the eruption of a cosmic birth she had never asked for.
Her face, usually calm, for the first time radiated a complex tension, a kind of concentration wrapped in a subtle, startled awe.
Theo was not destroying the stage Aldraya had created.
With one slash that appeared crude and trivial, he turned it into a cosmic firework display flooding the courtroom with countless possibilities.
This was what happened when Sa Aldraya known as Fides Regnat made direct contact with the technique Door Opened, Suffering Unleashed.
'Swallowing logic, bending illusion, reversing fate, and severing their laws.'
The cosmic sky rumbled softly, as if only then realizing that it was being wagered in a war with no beginning or end.
The nine Administrators, in their Second Paradigm, moved like living constellations, each step becoming a new law, each breath an order of creation.
Their attacks crept across all layers of reality, uprooting foundations, twisting logic, and forcing Aldraya to dance at the brink of destruction they had prepared.
But when the storm reached its peak, Sa Fides Regnat awakened a pulse of life that should not have existed.
Theo's power, sneaking in through the technique Door Opened, Suffering Unleashed, revived the Thirteenth Angel's Authority in a completely unforeseen way.
Tapsry's book of fate wrote a counter-destiny without anyone's permission, Ahael's scales solidified into a verdict impossible to overturn, and Regord's dream-fog seeped into the Administrators' minds until they lost the rhythm of their own attacks.
Every strike unleashed by Quorin and Valthura, every distortion cast by Ziesma, Thurash, Frashko, Uorkash, Belareth, Iosh, and Sareah, became echoes mirrored back at them with a precision that felt more like the will of the universe than an individual retaliation.
The Administrators' defeat was not welcomed by explosions or grandeur, but by a silence so sharp it felt capable of cleaving the soul.
Quorin, who tried to rewrite causality, watched his equations melt into indistinct lines like wet chalk washed by rain.
Valthura, who sculpted illusions of happiness, watched her creations collapse layer by layer until she faced the blank stare of a reality that did not require her tricks.
The other Administrators fell in similarly devastating ways.
Ziesma lost control of time and slipped into an endless void of moments, Thurash shriveled into the residue of his own emotional poison, and Frashko dimmed like embers deprived of oxygen.
Uorkash was stripped of his authoritative law, Belareth was consumed by the very currents of time she manipulated, Iosh vanished into the chaos he created, while Sareah dissolved into a pool of regret she could no longer endure.
They were not struck down, but extinguished.
Not defeated, but dismissed by the logic of faith and destiny operating on a level far beyond their understanding.
The cosmic ruins did not immediately drown them.
The Administrators' bodies remained, floating weakly in a battlefield that had lost its original form.
Their divine light had dimmed into a stuttering glow, while cracks across their bodies emitted unstable bursts of energy.
Every vibration once filled with authority now sounded like the whisper of a creature struggling to resist the unraveling of its own existence.
Their wounds were not merely physical tears, but fractures extending deep into the core of their identities, exposing how fragile they truly were when confronted with a system not bound by the algorithms they mastered.
They realized they no longer stood as nine pillars of power, but as nine variables corrected by a cosmic formula greater than any calculation they had ever produced.
In that silence, truth began to hang in the air—cold and undeniable.
The Administrators, long accustomed to shaping the fate of Berkeley's atoms, found themselves forced backward by an order they could not comprehend.
They retreated not out of fear of destruction, but from the bitter understanding that this battle had revealed the absolute limits of their power.
To be continued…