The multiverse held its breath. The clash between the two most powerful demigods in the new era was not a simple battle; it was a cataclysm.

On one side, Mammon, the Sin of Greed, his power a vortex of a thousand talents, had woven them all into a single, terrifying manifestation.

The Cosmic Hand was a masterpiece of conceptual chaos, a swirling, multi-colored palm the size of a continent, forged from the clashing energies of fire, ice, shadow, light, and the very essence of pride and gluttony itself.

It descended from the heavens, a tapestry of laws threatening to break reality.

On the other side stood Nova, the Firstborn, the Guardian. She met this display of chaotic, overwhelming scale with its perfect opposite: pure, focused, absolute order.

From her open mouth, a single, impossibly dense point of white-gold light emerged. It was the Charged Explosion, the accumulated, stored potential of every single Dragonborn and dragon who had advanced, who had grown stronger, who had been born in the centuries since her creation.

It was the collective power of an entire race, compressed into a single, silent beam.

The multi-colored, galaxy-sized palm met the pinprick of pure, white light.

For a single, agonizing instant, there was no sound. The two ultimate attacks pushed against each other, a war between chaos and order.

Then, the universe tore apart. An explosion, akin to the very Big Bang that had birthed their reality, erupted in the center of the arena.

A wave of pure white annihilation vaporized the Cosmic Hand and continued outward, a silent, expanding sun of pure force.

The shockwave, a ripple in space-time itself, shot across the arena. Demigods in the stands, beings who could shatter mountains, were thrown back, their divine forms skidding across the floor.

Even the Gods, seated on their high thrones, felt the impact. Many of the Gods were physically jolted, their thrones sliding back as they were struck by the wave of raw, unfiltered power.

Sunny, his expression unreadable behind his mask, simply raised a hand. A calm, shimmering barrier of pure mana rose around the arena, absorbing the apocalyptic shockwave before it could harm any of the spectators.

The live chat, which had been a frantic storm of speculation, went utterly, completely silent. The lifeforms watching from their home worlds had just witnessed a level of power that their minds could not process.

Lifeform73838: "Did… did I just see a sun explode?"

Lifeform63892: "I knew this would be a match for the history books… I didn't realize it would be the this grand…"

Lifeform6383: "I've read 'The Genesis'... It talks about the creation of the demigods. I always thought it was exaggerated. But that… that was godly. They aren't just demigods. They are... Gods."

It took a full minute for the blinding white light to fade from the arena. When the view returned, the battlefield was a ruin. The shifting biomes were gone, scoured clean, leaving only a smooth, white-hot, glassy plain.

"Sister," Mammon's voice echoed in the silence, his form panting but unharmed, "that blast was… beautiful. But I must know, how many more of those can you create?"

He did not wait for an answer. He raised his hand again, and a new Cosmic Hand began to form in the sky, this one even larger, darker, and more malevolent than the last.

Nova, floating in the center of the devastation, just smiled. She cracked her neck, her obsidian scales shimmering.

Then, she began to grow. Her elegant, humanoid form dissolved as she embraced her true nature, expanding into a colossal black dragon, a being so vast she seemed to eclipse the new, artificial suns Adam had created.

She met his conceptual, multi-elemental attack with just her physical might.

Her Absolute Defense and Absolute Strength talents flared to life. She met the descending, galaxy-sized palm head-on, her own claws, now the size of mountains, raised to meet it.

The impact was a sickening, grinding crunch. The sound of a world breaking. Nova's claws tore through the chaotic energy, her Absolute Defense nullifying the elemental properties, while her Absolute Strength shattered its physical structure.

The cosmic hand dissipated into a harmless cloud of multi-colored mist.

But the victory was not without cost. A spray of black blood, shimmering like oil, erupted from Nova's mouth.

The force of shredding a conceptual attack with a physical body had sent a devastating shockwave through her.

Her inner organs were a mess, her bones rattling. Though she was already healing, the injury was severe.

She looked at Mammon, who was preparing a third, even more desperate attack. And she spoke, her voice calm and absolute, cutting through the silence of the arena.

"I surrender."

Mammon froze, his new hand half-formed in the sky. "What?" he stammered, his mind utterly dumbfounded.

He had been preparing to surrender himself, to admit that his chaotic power could not break her absolute defense. She had won. She had proven her superiority. And now… she was just giving up?

"I said, I surrender," Nova repeated. Her form shrank, returning to her humanoid shape, and she was instantly teleported back to the stands, leaving a confused and victorious Mammon alone in the ruined arena.

He, too, was teleported back.

He stormed over to her, his aristocratic features twisted in a mask of confusion and betrayal. "Sister, why? Why did you trick me? I was going to surrender!"

Nova, her form already healed and radiating a calm vitality, simply smiled. "Trick you? I did no such thing. I was injured, and I could not continue the fight. So, I surrendered."

"But what about being a disgrace to the Master?!" Mammon's voice was a low growl, his core principle shaken.

He remembered her words from the start of the fight, the very words that had goaded him into this battle. "Aren't you doing exactly that right now?"

"A disgrace?" Nova chuckled, a soft, warm sound. She simply tilted her head towards the high throne, where their Emperor sat. "Look at our Master, little brother. Does he look disgraced to you?"

Mammon looked. Sunny was not frowning. He was not disappointed. He was smiling, his head nodding in quiet, profound approval.

Mammon felt his world tilt on its axis. He looked from Nova's knowing smile to Sunny's approving nod, his mind utterly puzzled.

In the end, Sunny's voice echoed in the arena, a gentle, paternal thought. "I have told you all previously that it is your life. You can do anything you want. I am just your creator. Your life, and your choices, are in your own hands."

He continued, his thought-voice washing over Mammon with a new understanding. "I would have stopped you from befriending demons if I did not trust your judgment. But I did not. Because it was your choice. I will only stop you if you do something that brings true, irreversible harm to yourself or our family. You are all my children, and I do not wish for any of you to be harmed."

This statement, this philosophy, resonated through the entire arena. The 6 billion Gods, many of whom ruled their own lifeforms with an iron fist, looked at Sunny with a new, deeper reverence.

He was not a tyrant. He was not a master. He was… a father.

Mammon's mind reeled. He looked at his sister, who was watching him with a fond, almost pitying expression. "You… you knew?"

"I am the firstborn for a reason, you know," Nova chuckled, her eyes sparkling.

She remembered her own moment of doubt, centuries ago in the Realm of Advancement, when she had hesitated to spare the Veilborn race, fearing her Master's disapproval.

But Sunny's reply then had been the same as it was now: "Do as you see fit, Nova. It is up to you to spare or to kill."

She had understood his lesson then. Mammon was only just understanding it now. Her gaze, now filled with a new, restless fire, shifted from her brother to her Master. The game was over. The lesson was learned.

"Master," her voice echoed in Sunny's mind, a new, sharp, and eager edge to it. "Can I go to hunt now?"

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