Creation Of All Things
Chapter 225 - 225: "My turn."

The battlefield kept shaking. Not from war, not from gods screaming—but from something heavier.

A reckoning.

And it was walking straight toward Thea.

Aurora stepped forward through the dust and divine ash, the air around her pulsing like it wanted to run. Light bent around her limbs. Time staggered near her ankles. Even the gods in the distance slowed their attacks just to watch.

She wasn't burning.

She wasn't glowing.

She was… rising.

Thea met her with the calm of someone who'd already seen this a thousand times.

"You shouldn't be able to see this moment," she said softly, silver glyphs rotating behind her head. "And yet here you are."

Aurora's voice cracked like clear crystal. "I burned every future where I lost. And you're the only one left."

Without warning—

BOOM—

They collided.

The force shattered the throne platform behind them. Cracks ripped across the sky like broken strings of fate. Their first clash didn't make a sound—it stole it. Every noise dropped out as causality bent, warped, then snapped back like a slingshot.

Thea moved first.

She didn't punch. She pointed.

"Thread Severance."

A line of fate snapped toward Aurora like a cosmic blade—but it missed.

Not because Aurora dodged.

Because that future no longer existed.

"Eclipse Sight: Absolute Rewrite."

Her eyes glowed pitch-black. Every potential cut blinked out before it could even be born. The world around her refused to let her bleed.

Thea's expression didn't change, but her breath hitched slightly.

Aurora launched forward, her body shifting mid-step—passing through dimensions like sliding between cracks in glass.

"Dimensional Shift."

She reappeared behind Thea, already mid-swing with an ethereal glaive of dark light.

CLANG—!

Thea raised a shield woven from prediction loops—runes etched with timelines and truths.

But Aurora's blade wasn't made of magic.

It was made of rejection.

The rejection of outcomes that shouldn't exist.

The blade passed through the prophecy barrier like scissors through paper.

"Astral Construct: Null Spiral."

The attack didn't cut flesh—it erased intention. Thea stumbled back, the threads behind her unraveling, unable to stabilize her counter-path.

But then—

"Collapse Point."

Thea's voice echoed, and suddenly Aurora's body was compressed inward by pure causality. A pinpoint implosion of events, collapsing her actions before they could manifest.

It worked—for one second.

Then—

"Infinity Drive: Pressure Overload."

Energy exploded from Aurora like a second heartbeat. The compressed field shattered, hurling Thea backward into a column of celestial prophecy which immediately blinked out of reality. Aurora didn't stop.

She blinked forward.

Then again.

Then again.

Seven steps. Seven dimensions.

Each step hit Thea from a new layer of existence. One punch twisted gravity. Another burned future sight. The third sliced intention. The fourth blurred her identity. By the seventh—

Thea was bleeding time.

Still, she gritted her teeth and raised her hands.

"Timeline Lock: Divine Axis."

The stars themselves shifted. Everything paused—except her. She walked through the moment, moving around Aurora's punches, painting runes in the air with her fingers.

"Prediction Barrier: Sequence 444."

A dome of infinite reflections sealed around Aurora.

This wasn't just foresight.

It was inevitability.

Every version of Aurora began striking at herself. Mirrors fractured. Possibilities turned violent. Outcomes attacked outcomes.

But Aurora smiled.

"You still think this can trap me?"

She opened her palm.

"Sovereign's Dominion."

The dome shattered.

The floor cracked.

And reality obeyed.

Every particle of space, time, and energy within fifty meters shifted allegiance. Aurora wasn't bound by the system of the gods anymore. She was the system.

Thea gasped, retreating—only for her path to loop.

There was no outside.

Only Aurora's rule.

"You're not the only one who plays with structure," Aurora whispered.

And then she moved.

Fast. Sharp. Ruthless.

A spear formed from her own heartbeat, laced with infinity energy, trailing voidlight. She threw it—Astral Construct: Singularity Lance.

Thea tried to open an escape route.

Aurora folded that timeline before it could branch.

The spear hit.

The impact didn't explode—it erased.

A column of silence rose.

When the echo cleared, Thea was kneeling. Blood dripping from her lip. Her divine circuits sputtering.

"Still standing?" Aurora asked, floating just above ground now, her body pulsing with harmonic distortion.

Thea looked up, panting. "I saw… too many futures. None of them had this version of you."

Aurora's eyes narrowed.

"Then maybe your sight was never strong enough."

Thea moved again, faster now—her desperation making her divine sight stutter. Chains of foresight, causality loops, destiny locks—all thrown at once. A thousand actions cast in a second.

And Aurora?

She met them all with one word.

"Evergrowth."

Her abilities changed. Mid-fight. Mid-breath.

The attacks started missing. Not because they were slow. Because they no longer applied. Aurora's body evolved in real time, surpassing each trap as it arrived.

The battlefield distorted under her steps. The gods above, even the ones still battling Kael'Thar, could feel it.

She wasn't just fighting Thea anymore.

She was consuming the moment.

And then—

She vanished.

Not by speed.

Not by shift.

But by elevation.

Astral Ascendance.

She became pure light. Her voice echoed from every layer of space:

"You tried to take my son. My future. My right."

Thea raised one final defense.

"Divine Fork—Thread Collapse!"

A massive clock formed behind her, its hands spinning backwards. She would end this by undoing Aurora.

But it was already over.

Aurora reappeared.

Hand out.

Touching the clock.

"You can't undo what never should've been."

Her Dominion rewrote the cause.

The clock shattered.

And Aurora sent one final strike.

"Eclipse Break."

A blade of anti-future light tore across Thea's chest, cutting not her body, but her anchor to fate.

Thea fell.

Unlinked.

No longer divine.

Just silent.

The gods watching turned cold.

Because they'd seen something they weren't supposed to.

Not just strength.

Correction.

Aurora landed slowly.

Her glow faded slightly. But her presence didn't shrink.

She turned to the rest of the divine council, voice calm.

"If any of you think I'm still bound to prophecy…"

She clenched her fist, and Thea's broken threads disintegrated behind her.

"…try me."

And then she walked forward—

Straight back into the chaos of the war.

Where Kael'Thar still roared across the heavens.

Where Adam still smiled.

"My turn."

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