When gods attack, they don't send soldiers.
They send symbols.
It began with a crack in the sun.
Just a hairline fracture—visible only to those who had studied the divine.
But Korrin saw it. His spell-map flared in alarm.
"It's a judgment seal," he whispered.
"They're calling the first Wrath of Twelve."
At midnight, the sky opened.
Twelve flaming swords rained down on Argent Academy.
Each one bore the sigil of a Holy God.
Each one sang with scripture.
Each one screamed for Liss Hoshino's erasure.
The Headmistress tried to evacuate. It was too late.
The ground lit up with divine glyphs—binding, rewriting, deleting.
"They're not trying to kill her," Naia growled.
"They're trying to write her out of the world."
In the middle of it all, Liss stood still.
Hair floating. Eyes closed.
The Lady inside her chest whispered:
"If you let me in… I'll save them."
Liss said nothing.
But her heart cracked.
And from within it—
Void howled.