The ruins of the temple trembled as Hecate's eyes narrowed at Cronus. Dark purple aura flared up from her body, forming into thick mist, as she prepared to launch an attack.
She lifted her hand, and the mist swirled, glowing with immense destructive energy.
Without a word, she unleashed it.
A barrage of destruction magic—raw, unfiltered, and absolute—rained down upon Cronus.
Each blast was powerful enough to erase existence itself, the very fabric of reality screaming as it twisted under the force of her magic.
But Cronus?
He merely waved his scythe.
Time itself unraveled.
Before the attacks could even reach hum, they ceased to exist—as if they had never been cast in the first place.
Cronus exhaled, unimpressed.
"Your power, magic was it? It is indeed formidable, but do you not understand?" His eyes gleamed. "I wield time itself."
Then, he swung his scythe again.
The world froze.
The entire battlefield stilled, everything locked in a single moment of time.
