The silence that followed the impact was more than the sound of pause—it was the anticipation of the cosmos, a suspended note in the music of destruction.
Crimsarya hovered in the air, her body enveloped in faint flames, as if space itself hesitated to touch her. Her gaze was fixed on the crater below, where Nivara, still gasping, tried to rise among fragments of broken ice.
But now, there were no more words.
There were no more warnings.
There was only decision.
Crimsarya extended her right arm. Her fist slowly closed. And the world... shook.
An impossible sound began to echo—like the distant song of a dying star. A colossal pressure enveloped everything. Gravity changed. The skies darkened. As if something that should never have existed was being called back to reality.
Then, a crimson crack opened in the air behind her. Not like a portal — but like a wound. A tear in logic.
From it emerged Supernova.
