Shiva raised an eyebrow curiously.
"Are you saying the balance is breaking again?"
Yama turned his gaze to him.
"It's not. It's already broken. Or do you think it's normal for so many factions... to have power and equality in this world? Demons, Fallen Angels, Werewolves, Heroes, Vampires... Witches."
The air split.
Literally.
A sharp sound, like the cracking of cosmic glass, echoed in the heart of the Colosseum.
The runes floating on the ceiling faded one by one, and a whirlpool of purple energy opened up in the very center of the arena—between Zeus's throne and Yama's shadow.
Gods rose. Others retreated. The space trembled.
From the portal exuded a force that didn't belong there. It was ancient, yes—but not divine in the celestial sense. It was something... independent, a magic that bowed to neither gods nor time.
And then, a voice echoed—soft, feminine, yet charged with enough power to make even lightning hesitate.
