It marks the end of the old ruler’s reign and the beginning of the new sovereign’s rule.
According to Emberlight’s centuries-old tradition, the enthronement requires the new emperor—whether in person or through appointed officials—to offer sacrifices to heaven, earth, and the nation, thereby declaring their mandate bestowed by heaven and their ancestors.
At the same time, the new emperor must don coronation robes and crown, sit upright upon the imperial throne, and receive the bows and pledges of loyalty from civil and military officials alike—thus formally defining the boundary between ruler and subject.
Finally, the new emperor issues an edict throughout Emberlight, proclaiming his ascension, announcing the change of era name, and declaring a general amnesty for all.
To accompany the rites, there must also be music, ritual dances, the tolling of bells and beating of drums, banquets, and other ceremonial displays.
Only once all these steps are complete can the enthronement be declared finished—and at that moment, the new emperor truly takes the throne and proclaims himself sovereign.
But Seraphine had no desire to follow any of these procedures, whether elaborate or simple.
Emberlight, Sapphire Research Institute.
“What is all this nonsense? It’s only wasting my research time.”
Seraphine (Clone), clad in a white lab coat, was dissecting the corpse of a Mercury Race specimen whose face was utterly disfigured. At her side, the aged Emberlight Master of Ceremonies bowed low and carefully asked:
“That... Your Majesty, what is your will?”
“Gather all the subjects and foreign envoys together. I’ll make the announcement directly—that will suffice.”
Seraphine spoke while delicately slicing apart a cluster of strange silver-gray tissue immersed in mercury with her scalpel.
The alien organ, harder than steel, split cleanly in two under the stroke of an ordinary stainless-steel blade—like slicing through a steamed chicken gizzard.
The Master of Ceremonies dared to lift his eyes for a glance at Seraphine’s tranquil expression before lowering his head again, beads of sweat forming as he hesitated:
“But Your Majesty, the Heavenly Hall is meant to... to sacrifice to the world, to bless Emberlight with fair weather and good harvests...”
“Sacrifice to the world?”
Seraphine paused, slowly turned her gaze to the azure sky outside the window, and smiled.
“Is it worthy?”
The official immediately bent lower, sweat pouring down his face. He stammered:
“Yes, yes—this subject spoke out of turn. This subject is guilty! I will take my leave at once!”
With that, he hurried away, his retreat so fast the air itself whistled around him, creating spiraling gusts that swept the chamber.
This seemingly ordinary high official, it turned out, was also a master of martial arts.
Indeed, after enduring multiple Ether tides, the physical aptitude of humanity worldwide had generally risen to the level once known as the 【Roaring Vitalis】 realm—once considered extraordinary.
Among them, roughly one percent of individuals with stronger potential had awakened various superpowers, ranging from formidable to feeble.
Superpower users who already possessed a solid foundation saw their abilities erupt, surging to heights where they wielded tens of thousands of ton in raw strength, impervious to firearms and mortars, capable of facing armies alone—one against ten thousand.
Even the once-dominant high-level superpower users and Evershield Body martial artists experienced exponential leaps in power, their combat strength multiplying dozens of times, if not more.
And yet, this sweeping tide of evolution across the nation was far from reaching its peak. It continued to climb, unstoppable.
Clearly, humanity itself was undergoing a visible metamorphosis under the renewed flood of 【Ether】.
What the world was seeing now was only the beginning.
Meanwhile, after the Master of Ceremonies relayed Seraphine’s will to the Emberlight cabinet, the four Grand Supporting Ministers and the rest of the high-ranking dignitaries moved without delay.
Dissent? Not even a murmur.
Changing the ancient rules of enthronement was one thing—if Her Majesty decided to reduce a city to rubble out of idle amusement, none of the ministers would dare protest. They would only clap and cheer.
Thus, within only a few hours, the entire Emberlight administrative machine roared to life.
Over a thousand superpower users were mobilized to dismantle the cramped, outdated Heavenly Hall. Piece by piece, it was broken down and rebuilt—expanded again and again—until it became a colossal Heavenly Hall, ten times larger than a stadium that once held a hundred thousand spectators.
By afternoon, the stage was set.
All the pillars of Emberlight’s ruling structure gathered in attendance: the Empire’s marshal and deputy marshal, the ten great generals, the parliament’s speaker and deputy speaker, the Chamber of Commerce president with every senior member, the Nobles’ Association president with their entire council, every provincial governor and deputy governor, along with all the chiefs and deputy chiefs of the military departments.
Tens of thousands of officials stood assembled before the Heavenly Hall.
Behind them, row upon row of representatives drawn from every stratum of Emberlight’s citizenry filled the plaza in solemn ranks.
At the farthest rear, envoys from nations across the globe waited with their entourages.
In that moment, more than 300,000 people filled the Heavenly Hall, faces solemn, backs straight, silent and reverent as they awaited Seraphine’s arrival.
The entire hall was hushed, not a whisper, not even the faintest stir of sound.
Then—suddenly—
From above the vast firmament of the Heavenly Hall, a golden-white Great Sun ignited into being.
So blinding, so majestic, so overwhelming in its radiance...
Blazing across the heavens, radiating searing fire.
Even the sky quivered under its brilliance, and the earth shook beneath its light.
High above, the true Sun itself seemed pale and wan, reduced to little more than a faint illusion beside this overwhelming radiance.
None among the masses dared to lift their eyes.
Yet in their quaking, fevered minds, every soul felt the crushing, absolute presence of that power.
Struck by this awe that pierced to the depths of spirit, the full 300,000 people, foreign envoys included, dropped to their knees in unison—hands raised, eyes shut, voices booming:
“Hail! Our Empress ascends the throne!!!”
The roar was so immense that the soft cotton clouds of midday scattered violently across the sky.
Not one soul below thought of human rights.
Not one believed kneeling was improper.
Their minds, their spirits, were already utterly crushed beneath Seraphine’s aura.
There was no room for resistance.
Only shock. Only reverence.
Their instincts as mortals permitted but a single act—to kneel, and to praise.
Buzz—
As the echo of their cries faded, the Great Sun—bearing the majesty of creation and annihilation alike—descended from the heights of tens of thousands of meters.
Before the trembling pupils of 300,000 witnesses, it settled at the entrance of the grand hall, its brilliance folding in on itself, reshaping into a figure.
A figure wreathed in the aura of a Heavenly Emperor, clad in black-lined, gold-embroidered imperial robes, crowned with a radiant diadem of profound gold, standing with hands clasped calmly behind her back.
It was Seraphine, gracing the Heavenly Hall with her descent.
As her feet touched the earth, the Master of Ceremonies, who had long been waiting in silence, bowed low and crept forward, his voice trembling:
“Your Majesty, you are the twelfth emperor of Emberlight. The Imperial Clan Court has respectfully designated your reign title as—”
“No.”
With a flick of her sleeve, Seraphine’s voice rang like a decree carved into stone:
“From this moment, my imperial title shall be 【Eon】.”
“Yes, yes, yes!” The Master of Ceremonies stumbled over himself, bowing deeper.
Then Seraphine asked, coldly, almost idly:
“Tell me—I have been immersed in research far too long and have lost all sense of time. What month, what day is it?”
The Master of Ceremonies dared not look at her crowned visage, fixing his gaze only on the intricate golden embroidery of her robe. His voice quavered:
“Your Majesty, today is June XX, Year 299...”
“Such an ordinary time.”
Seraphine lifted her chin ever so slightly, her lips curling with faint disdain.
She turned, her eyes sweeping over the countless bodies kneeling in silence at the foot of the Heavenly Hall’s platform.
Her gaze was cold, indifferent—regarding hundreds of thousands of kneeling souls as one might regard a field of weeds.
It is said: to be saluted by ten thousand is glory beyond measure; to be worshiped by a hundred thousand is as though touching the heavens.
But tell me—throughout the ages, has any mortal truly known what it is... to have a hundred thousand kneeling as one before them?
The scattered legends of old can no longer be traced.
Perhaps they were true. Perhaps not.
But here and now, within the Heavenly Hall, 300,000 souls knelt upon the cold white marble, foreheads pressed low toward Seraphine, who stood with hands clasped upon the high platform.
Not a whisper was heard.
Not a gaze was raised.
All simply listened in silence to the exchange between Seraphine and the Master of Ceremonies, a stillness so absolute it seemed carved from stone.
Had it been any ordinary ruler—one with a fragile aura and the fate of common blood—the sight of 300,000 kneeling would have shattered their mind. They would have stood dazed, powerless to bear it. The faint of heart might even have fainted outright.
But for Seraphine?
These mere 300,000 people?
Laughable.
Even if multiplied by a hundred million.
Even if thirty trillion knelt in unison, covering the surface of a world—collapsing the planet itself beneath their weight—she would endure it without the faintest tremor.
“My enthronement ceremony cannot be held at such an ordinary time.”
Seraphine’s cold gaze pierced through the jeweled strings of her golden crown. She lifted her eyes toward the blazing Great Sun and spoke with imperial finality:
“The beginning of a new cycle. The renewal of all things.
I shall ascend the throne on the first day of January.”
The Master of Ceremonies froze, then dared a glance upward, whispering with unease:
“Your Majesty… you mean to postpone the enthronement half a year, until the new year? But… a nation cannot remain without a sovereign even for a single day…”
“Postpone half a year?”
Seraphine’s gaze flicked down, icy and sharp.
“I shall ascend the throne today.”
“But…” The Master of Ceremonies faltered, his mind stumbling. “But, Your Majesty, it is already June. The first of January is half a year away—how could—”
“That is simple.”
Seraphine stepped forward, her voice as calm as a decree of heaven.
“Issue an edict immediately. Declare this very day to be January 1st. Adjust the four seasons and the weather of the year to follow accordingly.”
“Ah?!”
The Master of Ceremonies’ eyes went wide with disbelief.
Was such a thing even possible?!
Below, the 300,000 kneeling heard her words just as clearly. Bewilderment rippled through them—but not one dared look up. Not one dared speak.
Two heartbeats passed.
Seraphine’s frown deepened as she turned her head slightly toward the unmoving Master of Ceremonies.
“Why are you still here? Hmm?!”
The moment the sound left her lips, it was as though the Heavenly Hall had been stripped of all oxygen.
Every one of the 300,000—including the Master of Ceremonies—was suddenly gasping, faces drained pale, bodies trembling.
Panic hammered in their chests as if their hearts might burst.
One by one, they slammed their foreheads to the marble again and again, unable to stop themselves.
“Y-yes! Yes, Your Majesty is right! This worthless subject spoke nonsense! This subject will obey at once!”
The Master of Ceremonies groveled, kowtowing in terror, his knees never leaving the floor as he scuttled backward. His shins scraped against the hard white marble, leaving a streak as he hurriedly retreated.
"Ah ~"
Seraphine turned her head. Seeing the hundreds of thousands of trembling figures prostrate across the marble floor, her tightly knitted brows finally loosened. A soft sigh escaped her lips:
"You don’t need to fear me so much. I am not some tyrannical demon king."
No one answered. Silence reigned.
"Never mind."
With a faint shake of her head, Seraphine let her sleeves fall and walked toward the great hall. Just as she reached the entrance, she paused, tilted her head slightly, and murmured:
"It’s midsummer now. If the date is declared January, the heart of winter, hmm… that would indeed feel strange. How about..."
She stopped, moved to the steps before the main hall, and gazed up at the blazing sun.
After several seconds of silent thought, her palms clapped together. A smile spread across her face.
"That’s right. What if we simply move this mortal realm to the orbital position of January itself? Wouldn’t that solve everything perfectly? Excellent."
Move the mortal realm?!
To… the orbital position?!
What did that even mean?!
Inside the Heavenly Hall, Emberlight officials, citizen representatives, and envoys from a hundred nations all froze in disbelief. Bowed heads tilted slightly, furtive glances darted between them. In every eye, the same raw confusion flickered.
And within their hearts rose the same trembling thought:
‘Oh heavens… what kind of unholy scheme is this exalted one about to unleash?!’
Then—
Buzz—
From the heavens, a boundless and ethereal power descended, washing over the entire Heavenly Hall. In a single breath, all 300,000 kneeling within were frozen in place, sealed as though time itself had halted.
But it didn’t end there.
More torrents of power cascaded down, layer upon layer, radiating outward from the Heavenly Hall’s heart.
A radius of 10 km.
A radius of 100 km.
A radius of 1,000 km.
A radius of 10,000 km.
In an instant, the entire Divine Continent—over 2 billion lives—was stilled.
Those working, those sipping tea in leisure, those dozing in bed.
All frozen in place, unable to move so much as a single hair.
And not just humans.
That vast, sweeping power captured every winged beast mid-hunt, every predator and prey, every towering tree and every tiny pebble. It seized buildings—grand or crumbling, occupied or abandoned. It bound skyscrapers lit with bustling crowds and ruins left to dust.
It seized rivers, whether torrential or trickling.
It seized mountains, whether celebrated peaks thronged with travelers, or nameless ridges with only a stray hiker.
It seized wetlands and lakes, deserts and seas.
Every corner of the land, every living or lifeless thing across the Continent—locked, all at once, down to the very particles of existence.
The power was so vast, so precise, so absolute.
To the extent that even if a nuclear bomb—equal to a trillion tons of TNT—were detonated beside a tiny butterfly, frozen mid-air in a delicate pose among the flowers, not a single fragile scale would be blasted from its wings, not a single droplet of nectar would be displaced from the flower’s pistil, nor would even the faintest echo of the explosion’s sound or shockwave travel a femtometer beyond its epicenter.
This power did not stop there. It surged outward to envelop the entire globe.
From polar bears, penguins, seals, shrimp, and fish at the frozen poles, to the tons of air and water circling the planet, to the hundreds-kilometers-thick strata of Earth’s crust and the immense blazing core beneath it—everything, every atom, was locked and shielded by Seraphine’s boundless divine will.
A second later, billions across the globe, under that irresistible control, tilted their heads as one.
Their eyes blank, their expressions empty, yet in the silence of their trembling hearts surged fear and confusion. They did not know what had just happened, nor what would follow. They could only pray in desperation—praying to any being capable of hearing.
And so, their collective gaze turned skyward.
Higher and higher it rose, until it pierced the celestial sphere itself.
Farther and farther it flew, until Earth itself lay behind.
At last, at the Earth-Moon Lagrangian point, hundreds of thousands of kilometers from home, Seraphine’s true body stood alone in the void.
Suddenly, her figure flickered, stepping into the Real Number Channel stretching between Earth and Moon.
Then she lifted her slender arms wide, five fingers outstretched, as though to seize the two distant orbs on her left and right—Earth, and the Moon.
Boom!!!
From her palms erupted a power vast enough to crush ten thousand Earths into dust, divine will condensed into blazing columns of force. They shot across the boundless starry gulf, one toward Earth, the other toward the Moon.
Buzz—
These two forces were so vast, so overwhelming, that the endless starry sky they ripped through shuddered violently, as if pierced open, warping and expanding into colossal vortices of radiant light.
At the same time, everything that existed within tens of thousands of kilometers along their paths—cosmic radiation, drifting debris, meteorites—was instantly vaporized, erased into nothingness as the forces swept past.
Less than a second later—
The Moon to her left and Earth to her right were both firmly “seized” by Seraphine, though they lay hundreds of thousands of kilometers away.
She opened her eyes slowly, divine brilliance blooming within them, and fixed her gaze upon the crimson Great Sun millions of kilometers ahead...
No—not gazing at it.
But seeing through it.
Seraphine pierced the Sun with ease, her sight extending beyond it to a stretch of Earth’s orbit hidden millions of kilometers behind.
Even the Sun—one million kilometers wide, a roaring inferno of trillion-ton plasma storms—could not block her frozen, divine stare.
Within this Solar System, wherever Seraphine willed to see, she would see.
No object, no being could hinder her slightest perception.
In her vast and majestic spiritual awareness, that hidden segment of Earth’s orbit lay utterly empty—save for the occasional flicker of high-energy particles whispering past.
But then—
The intricate eye-shaped sigil upon her forehead began to bloom, radiating luminous patterns, and in that moment her sight shattered dimensional boundaries.
High-dimensional perception—activated!
Whoosh——
Instantly, the “flat map” of that empty orbit unfolded into a living three-dimensional hologram.
And within her godlike, high-dimensional vision, behind that thin veil of 3D spacetime, trillions of parallel layers revealed themselves.
In each of those layers, alternate Earth orbits spiraled—sometimes nearly identical, sometimes radically alien.
These were the countless paths of Earth across parallel universes.
-
Some orbits were littered with tens of thousands of fragments—strange, shattered starships adrift.
-
Some had four or five massive, dark-green vines, thicker than mountains, coiling through the void like living stars.
-
In others, the Sun had already been struck by a gamma-ray burst, preparing to consume Earth in fire.
-
One orbit showed the Moon transformed—alive, with eyes and a mouth—plunging into Earth, yet the two fused seamlessly, without scattering debris.
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-
In another, a swollen, larger Earth drifted by slowly.
-
Others displayed Earth and Moon fully armored, reforged with deep mechanical augmentation.
-
And then—an orbit where a crimson planet loomed, larger than Jupiter. From its core jutted a colossal eye, jagged fangs, and a hooked beak, and from its maw extended a tongue a hundred thousand kilometers long, reaching greedily to lick Earth.
And strangely—
That monstrous planet-beast seemed to sense her.
Its titanic eye contracted, its pupil spinning in a sickening whirl—before it locked directly onto Seraphine’s high-dimensional gaze, staring back with chilling clarity.
Within that enormous crimson eye—seething with malevolence and ferocity—it was as though humanity’s imagined Hellish Abyss churned and boiled inside, a cauldron of infinite darkness and hatred. The sight genuinely startled Seraphine.
“Endless spacetime truly is marvelous… so many hideous things crawl within it.”
For a fleeting instant, Seraphine felt the universe’s grandeur in full.
“But you, ugly thing—why glare so fiercely when I gaze upon you?”
Her lips curved into a faint smile, and she let out a soft chuckle. At once, she turned her high-dimensional vision into a weapon—activating the Mind Suppression Seal, lancing her will through countless layers of parallel universes to strike directly at the monster’s colossal eye.
After all, whatever can be observed can also be interfered with.
As expected, no energy-based force could travel such impossible routes across universes. But spiritual power—laden with information reaching the root of all living things—slipped easily through, layer upon layer, like light through a crystal lattice.
“...”
Her high-dimensional sight carried no sound, only visions. Yet she saw it clearly: when the cosmic beast was struck by her Suppression, a force that could erase the informational essence of an entire star, it was as though a meteor hammer tens of thousands of meters wide smashed directly into its eye.
That vast eye collapsed inward, leaving a hollow larger than Earth itself. From the abyssal cavity, thick black blood gushed and frothed like a sea of darkness.
The beast reeled. Its gaping maw stretched open in a soundless howl. Its colossal body quaked, vomiting forth a crimson tide that corroded everything within a hundred thousand kilometers—including Earth itself—into a sludgy ruin.
“Hahaha.”
Seraphine laughed with girlish delight, like a child reveling in a mischievous prank. Then, with a casual flick, she shut her high-dimensional vision.
At once, the layered vistas of parallel universes vanished, as though they had never existed.
Nothing had changed. Nothing had happened.
And yet, somewhere in the immeasurable beyond, that cosmic beast writhed in agony, grievously wounded, raging in blind futility.
Composed once more, Seraphine refocused on the segment of Earth’s orbit millions of kilometers away. After a brief calculation, she murmured softly:
“Three hundred twenty million kilometers. Hm. Not far. When it arrives at that mark, Emberlight will be spring.”
Having spoken, she spread her arms wide, as though grasping Earth and Moon alike, bound beneath her divine will. Then she took a single, decisive step.
Boom!!
The boundless cosmos roared in response.
With that stride, she tore across hundreds of thousands of kilometers in an instant. Layer upon layer of immense tidal waves of power erupted in her wake, sweeping outward through the starfields at nearly the speed of light.
Within this vast expanse, all matter was torn asunder, scorched, and transmuted by the violent commotion born of Seraphine’s stride—splintering into hundreds of millions of high-energy particles that stormed outward in every direction across the endless stars.
Then, she took another step.
Boom!!!
Hundreds of thousands of miles of sky detonated once more, the firmament shuddering as tide after tide of energy roared, sweeping in all directions like cosmic tsunamis.
Behind her, Earth and Moon—rotating at frantic velocity on her left and right—were suddenly caught in the colossal lever-structure imposed by her divine will, as though yanked from invisible strings stretching tens of thousands of kilometers.
In an instant, both celestial bodies were dragged forward by an unimaginable force, hurtling together at terrifying speed—until, hundreds of thousands of kilometers behind Seraphine, they slammed toward each other in a catastrophic collision.
The spectacle, if described, was like a basketball and a ping-pong ball flung from opposite ends of a court, arcing through space before smashing into one another with unstoppable momentum.
Though they rushed along parallel directions, Earth and Moon curved inward along vast semi-circular arcs on the same plane—hundreds of thousands of kilometers in sweep—before colliding with apocalyptic violence.
Their velocity was sub-light.
And when worlds collide at such speeds, the destructive force unleashed surpasses all mortal comprehension.
By theory alone, nothing within the Solar System could survive such an impact unscathed—not even the Sun itself.
Yet, while this colossal, superluminal collision unfolded, the billions of humans standing upon Earth’s surface witnessed only a surreal and horrifying distortion of their sky.
When Seraphine took her first stride, their heavens—once blue and scattered with white clouds—suddenly blackened into infinite night.
A heartbeat later, that silent night reversed, returning to the clarity of a bright blue day.
Before a single thought could form, the daylight again dissolved into darkness.
And in that one single second, the alternation of day and night above humanity’s heads flickered hundreds of times in frantic succession.
In those few seconds before and after Seraphine’s stride, tens of thousands across the globe were jolted awake by the high-frequency flicker of day and night. Many stood, eyes wide in dazed revelation—only to collapse fainting a moment later.
Yet among the “enlightened” few, a number of artists grasped something more. They perceived the terrifying grandeur and strange beauty hidden within that awe-inspiring celestial upheaval.
Some could not restrain themselves—sighing deeply, sketching frantically, striving to capture in trembling lines the vision that burned itself into their hearts: the heavens unraveling, day and night dancing in mad succession.
This fleeting moment later became known as “White Night, Dark Day.”
...
Meanwhile, Seraphine streaked across the stars, utterly unaware that her casual step had birthed an entirely new artistic movement on Earth’s future timeline.
From this alone, it was plain: when one’s mastery reached her level, even the slightest action, the faintest word, could become heaven’s decree—a Dao Principle that shaped the very thoughts of living beings.
And as time flowed on, the proof was evident. On Earth, no matter right or wrong, truth or falsehood, virtue or vice, beauty or ugliness—even the very foundations of human aesthetics, morality, and ethics—were slowly dictated by the shadow of Seraphine’s will.
Unknowingly, humanity had already surrendered their measure of the world.
For in truth, those magnificent, terrifying visions were born from a single fact: Earth itself had been violently seized and dragged by Seraphine, forced into high-frequency oscillation as it spun in the void.
One heartbeat turned Earth to face the Sun—day.
The next heartbeat spun it into shadow—night.
And thus, day and night stuttered in mad alternation, hundreds of times within a single second.
And then—billions of eyes lifted upward.
At the far edge of the trembling sky, a faint gray speck emerged.
In every vision it grew, swelling at unimaginable speed.
No—not swelling.
It was colliding.
That gray sphere barreled forward with violent inevitability, slamming across heaven itself.
Larger, clearer, more familiar it became—
Until billions recognized it in horror.
It was the Moon.
It was the Moon—hurtling down, to collide with Earth!
All humanity, gripped by awe and terror, could only cry out. Yet their wailing soon dissolved into a bleak, almost weary resignation:
“Ah… destruction. I am tired.”
But no lament, no mortal will, could halt the transformations unraveling across the heavens. While every heart shrieked in silent panic, the infinitely vast Moon swallowed the firmament, blotting out all else.
Now, even from the ground, all could clearly see the Moon’s scarred surface—its countless craters staring back like the pitted eyes of some monstrous god.
And then it came.
A single shared affliction, erupting across the globe—megalophobia.
Billions froze where they stood. Their eyes remained open, unblinking, yet their minds collapsed into spasms of unconsciousness, unable to withstand the immensity looming above.
But those few who retained clarity were not fortunate. They were cursed with the deepest despair.
They watched, helpless, as the Moon filled the entire vault of heaven, swelling further still—until, with a soundless rumble, it hurtled downward.
And what could they do?
No embrace, no tears, no final words.
Only prayer.
They prayed for divine mercy.
One second later—
Earth and Moon collided.
“...”
Utter silence.
The sub-light-speed impact of two worlds produced no devastation.
No mountains shattered, no seas boiled, no continents burned.
Only the sparse, wandering interstellar dust caught between them was crushed into radiant clusters of fusion light, blooming like silent fireworks across the void.
It was as if both planets had been sheathed in some impossible dissipative veil, a skin of divinity that erased annihilation itself—snuffing out a force that could have unmade Jupiter into nothingness.
And when the impact ended, Earth’s beings stirred as if waking from a dream, their souls dazed, their energy drained to the dregs.
They did not know.
That protective veil was nothing but the manifestation of Seraphine’s divine will.
For Seraphine—who bore strength equal to thirty-three thousand Earths—the collision of two mere worlds, even at sub-light velocity, was no more than a mote of dust drifting on a breeze.
And in the silence of the cosmos, she grew accustomed to this strange new method of dragging worlds.
Almost absentmindedly, Seraphine spread her will.
And with effortless grace, she set the two planets side by side, just beyond Earth’s atmosphere, balancing them like spheres in the palm of her right hand—though her hand was hundreds of thousands of kilometers away.
"Alright, warm-up’s over."
She flexed her wrists with a lazy twist, her gaze faintly glazed, then stomped once on the void—her figure instantly vanishing into the endless expanse.
And at that exact instant, Earth and Moon, separated by hundreds of thousands of kilometers, also flickered and disappeared.
One person. Two celestial bodies. All at once—plunged into a sub-light velocity state.
"..."
In the vast starfield—
Seraphine surged forward relentlessly, accelerating without pause.
Within just a few million kilometers of flight, her speed had already climbed to a staggering 99% of light speed.
At that velocity, the ‘rope’ of divine will gripped in her palm suddenly grew six to seven times heavier than normal.
Because at 99% of light speed, the effective mass of both Earth and Moon had risen to seven times their original, in accordance with the 【Special Theory of Relativity – Mass Increase Effect】.
This begins from the mass–energy equivalence equation:
E = mc2.
In this equation, the mass m of an object and its energy E are interchangeable: the greater the mass, the greater the energy it embodies. Conversely, the more energy an object contains, the greater its effective mass. Theoretically, as an object’s velocity approaches light speed, its mass asymptotically increases.
By calculation—at 99% of light speed, an object’s mass swells by roughly 700%.
At the same moment, as Earth’s speed drew infinitely close to the speed of light—
To all conscious humans on Earth, gazing outward:
In the ground’s forward-facing direction of motion, the countless stars pouring in from the black sea of space were all drenched in a blue tint.
Meanwhile, in the opposite direction—behind Earth’s path—every stream of starlight swept past in rapid retreat, stretching into the infinite distance, all suffused with a deep red glow.
This was red shift and blue shift—the Doppler effect—an inevitable consequence when an object’s speed nears the speed of light.
When light came rushing head-on, its wavelength was squeezed toward the blue end of the spectrum. When it retreated behind, its wavelength stretched toward the red end.
At the same time, in the corners of every human’s vision on Earth, something terrifying emerged:
all surrounding objects—even the people beside them—appeared frighteningly flattened.
As if the entire world were collapsing into two dimensions.
This was 【length contraction】, a relativistic effect only made visible on the macroscopic scale when one’s velocity pressed infinitely close to light speed.
Cosmic space itself is not absolute; it is governed by relativity.
It all depends on the observer’s frame of reference.
Within a single frame, lengths remain unchanged. But from the perspective of an external frame, all objects contract along their line of motion.
Ordinarily, this effect is far too subtle for the naked eye.
But now, as Earth itself tore forward near light speed, the phenomenon unfolded openly before all: people and objects suddenly compressed, distorted by 【length contraction】.
And these rare, colossal-scale effects struck like nuclear warheads—erupting inside the hearts of the world’s scientific community.
Their disbelief detonated into chaos.
Physicists and researchers, with their deep foundation of knowledge, instantly pieced together the cause. They knew. They understood.
It was her.
That deity... dragging the entire planet... hurling it through the universe at unimaginable velocity.
And that velocity... was asymptotically reaching the speed of light itself!
Every scientist on Earth who grasped this truth stood frozen in shock.
This—this is an entire planet! My God!!
How much energy would that take?
How unimaginable would the power output have to be?
To hurl an entire planet to near-light speed in just a second or two?!!
It’s absurd! Outrageous!
Flat-out unscientific!!
After countless scientists finished cursing silently, a single, chilling thought clicked into place:
That being… that deity… is she truly omnipotent?!!!
If so—does scientific research… still matter?
No one could answer.
And just as helplessly, frozen where they stood, none of them could ask the outside world anything at all.
Just like that—
Out in the vacuum, Seraphine—her body far too small to perceive—gripped reality with overwhelming force and dragged Earth and Moon—each trillions of times her size—trailing hundreds of thousands of kilometers behind. She streaked across hundreds of millions of kilometers, arrowing straight for the Sun.
Beneath the boundless, blazing brilliance of the coronal layers, Seraphine became a primeval titan, plucking stars and palming the moon. She ignored the Sun’s roaring torrents of charged particles and furnace-hot plasma storms by the hundreds of millions, and hauled Earth and Moon at 99% light speed straight through the corona’s million-kilometer thickness—ramming into the Sun’s boundless sea of fire.
In her wake, dozens of vast, dragon-like, incandescent coronal streams—each tens of thousands of kilometers long—were crushed to vapor. She gouged a sweeping, curved plasma-scorched trench—tens of thousands of kilometers wide and over a million kilometers long—across the Sun’s surface.
Then, with thunder in her steps, she tore free of the Sun and accelerated outward, racing for the deeper dark of space.
Meanwhile, the countless beings of Earth—wrapped tightly in divine will—were dragged along with Seraphine through the boundless solar inferno. They witnessed the Sun’s raging seas of fire firsthand, their hearts brimming with shock, awe, and terror. Yet miraculously, untouched and unharmed, they were carried as one into the endless starry expanse.
10 million kilometers.
20 million kilometers.
30 million kilometers.
More than ten minutes passed.
At last, Seraphine hauled Earth and Moon across the void to the “opposite” point of Earth’s former orbital track—roughly 300 million kilometers away—into the segment of the orbit known as January Spring.
Boom!
The high-frequency spinning Earth froze in an instant, anchored firmly back into orbit under her will—without the slightest deviation.
Boom!
The Moon, too, under her gaze, swept smoothly to its place—380,000 kilometers from Earth.
With subatomic precision, Seraphine aligned their gravitational fields, locking Earth and Moon into perfect resonance. Not a hair’s breadth of error remained.
Whoosh—
The boundless shroud of divine will encasing the two celestial bodies suddenly dispersed.
Billions of humans on Earth regained their freedom.
At the same moment, all the suspended continents, oceans, mountains, rivers, cities—everything—snapped back into their original order.
Whoosh—
As the world steadied—
A cold wind swept across the Divine Continent. The northern lands glazed over with a thin frost.
The oppressive summer heat vanished instantly.
The land was blanketed in silver stillness.
But then—a crimson ring of sunset broke on the horizon. A spring wind, full of vitality, carried shimmering wisps of spring light, scattering across the Divine Continent.
And in that same breath—
Rumble!
Thunder rolled in all directions.
Above the continent, gray clouds surged, swelling with the first spring storm of the year.
Spring wind, spring light, spring thunder, and spring rain—arriving in perfect succession.
Whoosh—
In Emberlight Ashara, three hundred thousand kneeling within the Heavenly Hall still pressed their foreheads to the ground.
On every face—shock, bewilderment, daze, stupefaction. Every expression possible to humankind.
So this was how His Majesty shifted the seasons and bent the weather—by such a method!!!
Simply—outrageous beyond the horizon!
Everyone, after living through this miracle, once again understood what it truly meant to be powerful… what it meant to be invincible… what it meant to be—omnipotent!
And at that moment, above the Grand Hall, Seraphine—who had stood calmly, hands clasped before the entrance through the entire ordeal—slowly turned her face. Her cold gaze swept down upon the three hundred thousand gathered below: Emberlight officials, civilian delegates, foreign envoys alike.
Her voice rang out, imperious and absolute:
“From this day forward, all calendars on Earth are abolished. They will be replaced by the Eon Calendar. Today is Year One, January First of the Eon Era.”
At once, the 300,000 below lifted their heads and roared in unison:
“By imperial decree! Today is Year One, January First of the Eon Era!”
In that instant, Seraphine forcibly rewrote Emberlight’s weather to match January First of the new year.
The Emberlight Calendar, which had lasted for 299 years—along with every national calendar across the world—ended that day.
From this moment onward, the Eon Calendar began.
As Earth stabilized and normalcy returned—rumors, speculation, and fragments of information about this apocalyptic event erupted across the globe and across the internet.
Especially once those who had witnessed the enthronement ceremony returned home, the chain of events was laid bare in full detail: how Seraphine, displeased with the weather, had in a single thought seized the minds of all humanity—and then changed the seasons themselves by grasping Earth and Moon as if they were mere toys.
No official scientific body dared step forward to explain the impossible physics in detail. But the event itself—and the raw memories etched into every person’s mind—were more than enough to shock billions into a stupefied daze.
And in truth, the entire affair wasn’t even complex.
On the contrary—it was brutally simple.
In summary: Seraphine lifted Earth and Moon—one in each hand—and hurled them 300 million kilometers at sub-light speed, to the opposite side of the orbit.
The result? Earth shifted from summer to spring.
Simple, right? Then you try it.
Bullshit! There’s nothing simple about it at all!
Countless people across the internet erupted in feverish excitement, unable to contain their shock.
Independent media outlets—ever sensitive to traffic surges—scrambled to respond to the flood of voices. In no time, detailed analyses were everywhere:
Some broke down the precise timing of each stage of the event.
Some tried to estimate Seraphine’s sheer power output.
Some calculated the velocity of Earth and Moon during their flight.
Others analyzed which side of the Sun the planet had skimmed past, and by how much the solar corona had been ruptured in measurable magnitudes.
All manner of theories and dissections flooded cyberspace, overwhelming the eyes and minds of billions.
High-tech video channels joined the frenzy, splicing together frantic animations—ranging from crude stick-figure sketches to cinematic CGI—of Seraphine clutching Earth and Moon in her hands.
Once more, those who had just clawed their way through the dense text analyses were hurled back into speechless astonishment.
Shock upon shock, wave after wave of shock.
For a time, humanity’s collective emotions—already perched on the knife’s edge of awe, disbelief, and deification—surged even higher, lifting Seraphine to a stature eclipsing the highest deities of many world religions.
Eon Calendar, Year One. January 2nd.
Seraphine, robed in imperial regalia and crowned with her diadem, reclined languidly upon the pure-gold Dragon Throne.
【Host: Seraphine】
【Physical Strength: 66,000 Planets】
【Soul: 66,000 Planets】
In just one day, her attributes had doubled—now equal to one-fifth the Sun’s mass.
She smiled faintly.
“Exponential growth is truly intoxicating. Even if I never wield this power, simply watching the numbers rise is enough to bring serenity to the mind.”
Shifting her gaze from the glowing attribute bar, Seraphine lowered her eyes to the courtiers assembled below.
The strings of pearls cascading from her crown hung like a divine curtain between heaven and earth, veiling the upper half of her face and concealing every flicker of emotion. The lower half that remained visible was as cold and unreadable as carved marble.
Heaven’s will moved in lockstep with her own. A chill, otherworldly pressure filled the grand hall, seeping into every breath.
Far above, the skies reflected her mood. Heavy, murky-gray clouds churned into existence, roiling as if drawn by her presence, while muffled thunder growled without pause.
Below, the courtiers stood frozen in that dreadful aura, waiting with reverence yet inwardly trembling with unease and confusion.
“Why has everyone gone silent?”
At last Seraphine’s voice broke the stillness. From her seat upon the Dragon Throne, she gave a soft, crystalline laugh.
“Look at you—so afraid. If word of this were to spread, would it not paint me as a tyrant in the people’s eyes?”
The moment her words fell, the very air thickened, crushing down upon the hall. The atmosphere grew so heavy it seemed the walls themselves might crack. Suffocated by the weight, the courtiers faltered, then dropped to their knees as one, bowing low to the ground.
“I am guilty!”
“I am guilty!”
“I am guilty!”
"....."
“Enough. Enough.”
With a single wave of her sleeve, Seraphine brushed the crushing aura aside as though it were smoke. The suffocating weight evaporated instantly. Even the wilted potted plants outside the hall suddenly surged upward, their stalks lengthening inches in a heartbeat as though infused with spring’s vitality.
Above, the dark clouds and rolling thunder dissolved just as swiftly, dispersing into delicate, pristine white wisps. Bathed in the slanting warmth of spring sunlight, the heavens looked pure and stainless once more.
Miraculous, yet terrifying.
It was as though the entire world bent to Seraphine’s moods.
When she grew angry, dark winds swept across the land and thunder split the heavens.
When she was pleased, the clouds parted and sunlight poured down, bathing ten thousand miles in brilliance.
For the Seraphine of this moment, the so-called “world” had already become far too small.
Upon the Dragon Throne, her voice rang out once more.
“Yesterday,” she said, almost musing to herself, “I reflected that a new dynasty, a new order—if left unchanged—would be dreadfully dull. Therefore…”
Her gaze slid downward to the courtiers bowing low before her. Her tone shifted into something playful, yet edged with steel.
“From this day forth, all laws regarding imperial nobility are abolished. Whether founding noble or meritorious noble, all titles are nullified. Their assets shall be seized and absorbed into the national treasury.”
At that, her lips curved into a cold, cutting smile.
“Other than me, all beings are equal. No one shall stand above the rest.”
Shock!
More than a hundred ministers froze where they knelt, their faces blanching with disbelief.
Her Majesty intended to abolish the nobility—regulations upheld for nearly three centuries?
This… this was beyond imagination. Beyond outrageous.
Several ministers, overcome by terror, dropped to their knees and scrambled forward, foreheads striking the floor again and again.
“Your Majesty! This… this cannot be! All of Emberlight will collapse into chaos!”
Even the eldest minister, white-bearded and trembling, stumbled forward, his frail body stooping as he knelt in desperation. Tears welled in his eyes as his voice cracked:
“Your Majesty, every house of merit was founded upon blood and sacrifice! The forefathers of the founding nobles followed the Grand Ancestor himself through fire and wilderness, enduring endless hardship to forge our Emberlight Empire! Countless lives were given! This old servant begs Your Majesty—withdraw this decree!”
The old minister kowtowed again and again—five, six times in succession—until his forehead swelled, blood streaking down his face.
Yet Seraphine, seated high upon the Dragon Throne, did not stir. Not a flicker of emotion crossed her features.
With a single glance she knew him well: president of Emberlight’s Nobles’ Association, patriarch of a founding bloodline, his hand on vast estates, wealth beyond measure, countless descendants under his name.
Hmph. An eighty-year-old still keeping seventeen or eighteen young concubines. The older they grow, the more shamelessly resilient.
Seraphine’s eyes slid closed halfway. Her voice was cool, detached.
“Endured hardship and shed blood? So what? You’ve had three hundred years of ease, of feasting. Enough. Must you gorge yourselves for another three hundred?”
The old minister gasped, chest heaving. Slowly, he lifted his tear-stained face toward her. His voice trembled, yet carried a mournful weight.
“Your Majesty… this is ancestral law! The ways of our forefathers cannot be broken. Your Majesty’s decree—it is to… to tear up the very roots of Emberlight!”
Shock rippled through the court.
Courtiers glanced at one another, eyes wide with panic. Their expressions seemed to say:
“He dares! Such words—he dares to utter them!”
“This is madness. What should we do?”
“I… I don’t know. Best we stay silent.”
Upon the throne, Seraphine leaned forward slightly, resting her cheek in her hand, her gaze indifferent, a faint laugh spilling from her lips.
“I intend to tear out these roots. And what of it?”
The old minister froze. His expression hardened. In one motion, he wiped away his tears as though they no longer mattered. Gritting his teeth, he cried out:
“Then this old man… this old man shall take his own life here today! Let the Grand Ancestor and every founding duke open their eyes and see!”
“Oh? Suicide?”
Seraphine gave a delighted clap, a smile tugging at her lips.
“At last, something amusing.”
She extended a languid hand toward him.
“Very well. Do as you please.”
“Ah—?!”
The old minister’s eyes went wide.
He hesitated, casting a glance at the rows of courtiers behind him.
But they all kept their eyes lowered, feigning contemplation, unwilling to intervene.
Stealing another look at the throne, he found Seraphine watching him as well.
The crown shadowed her upper face, cold and unreadable—but her lips curved with the faintest trace of amusement.
As if to say: Go on. Do it. Faster.
“Oh dear…”
The old minister shook his head with a tragic sigh, whispering to himself, “So it’s true—I must die here today?”
“Never mind! Then let me die!”
Grinding his teeth, he suddenly leapt to his feet, let out a guttural cry, and sprinted two steps toward a massive palace pillar.
But on the third step—he slipped.
“Ahhh—!”
With a crack and a howl, he tumbled to the ground, clutching his leg, rolling in pain.
“Your Majesty, oh merciful Majesty!” he wailed, turning his wrinkled face upward. “This old body is frail… I haven’t exercised in years… I’ve injured my leg in the fall! I beg Your Majesty’s pardon!”
“Hmph.”
Seraphine brushed her sleeve.
From the shadows, several towering figures in the black armor of the Imperial Palace Guard appeared in silence. Grim-faced, they immediately knelt before her, their foreheads striking the floor in wordless salute.
Seraphine shifted slightly on her throne, her voice slow and cutting.
“You old fool… how reckless your words are. Very well—set him up, and make him smash his head against that pillar. Again, and again, until he dies.”
The hall froze.
Every courtier’s eyes bulged in shock.
This—this wasn’t how it was supposed to unfold! Wasn’t the Empress meant to grant clemency, to show magnanimity before the court? How could she be so… merciless?
“Hear the Imperial Decree!”
The guards bowed low in unison, their voices thunderous.
In the blink of an eye, they surrounded the old minister, their hands seizing his frail body.
He panicked at last, thrashing wildly, shrieking in terror.
“Your Majesty, spare me! Spare me, I beg you! This old subject spoke foolishly! Mercy, Your Majesty—mercy!”
Seraphine did not answer.
She only watched with an expectant smile, eyes alight with cruel anticipation.
The guards dragged the sobbing, writhing old man before the pillar.
And then, without hesitation, they slammed his skull into the unyielding stone.
Bang!
Blood splattered. The old minister collapsed at once, unconscious.
Even the hardened courtiers shuddered at the sight.
“Not dead.”
Seraphine flicked her sleeve. “Keep hitting him.”
The guards bowed deeply. Without hesitation, they hauled the bleeding old man upright—his face already drenched red—and smashed him into the pillar again.
Bang!
His body convulsed; blood burst from his ears, eyes, nose, and mouth.
Bang!
Another strike.
His eyes rolled back. His forehead caved grotesquely inward, yellowish fluid seeping out. Death was certain.
From her throne, Seraphine gave a faint pout, as though disappointed. She waved dismissively.
“Throw it out. Don’t leave such filth before my eyes.”
The guards gave a resounding assent, lifted the corpse, and vanished without a trace.
Moments later, sanitation officials appeared as if from nowhere, briskly scrubbing away the bloodstains. Within breaths, the grand hall gleamed again—flawless, pristine, as if nothing had ever happened.
Seraphine now turned her gaze upon the courtiers, their heads bowed so low their foreheads nearly touched the floor. Her voice was light, almost casual:
“Well? Anyone else eager to strike?”
The hall fell into suffocating silence. Not a single word.
Her cold laugh echoed.
“Are you all mute now? Speak when you are spoken to.”
Seraphine narrowed her eyes, sweeping her gaze from left to right across the trembling courtiers below. Cold sweat streamed down their bodies like molten silver.
The dissatisfaction radiating from her ethereal eyes felt almost tangible—like blades carving into flesh and soul—inflicting pain that seemed endless.
At this moment, had Seraphine allowed even the faintest spark of anger to stir within her, the entire hall—hundreds of courtiers and the palace itself—would have been ground to dust beneath the weight of her gaze.
And for her, it would cost nothing.
Her soul stood too high, too far beyond theirs. Even the slightest ripple of her emotion could, like the will of a god, pierce the boundary between reality and the Sentience Realm, shaking Earth’s order itself and forcing nature to shudder in response.
When Seraphine grew angry, the heavens stirred.
That was her power.
It was not a matter of losing control—Seraphine was simply too vast.
A dragon soaring across the skies, no matter how softly it tried to breathe, would still scatter countless particles like dust and bacteria. When the gap between strong and weak defies reason itself, the strong need not act; their mere existence becomes terror incarnate.
So it was with Seraphine. By now, the gulf between her and mortals had grown so immense that simple communication was no longer possible. They could not even share the same room.
Perhaps realizing this truth, Seraphine felt weary. Leaning back upon the dragon throne, she waved her hand languidly and sighed:
“Enough. Disperse. Go home.”
And with that, she vanished from the throne.
The moment she disappeared, the courtiers collapsed to their knees, kowtowing as their voices rang in unison:
“Long live our Empress! Boundless be Her sacred reign!”
Thus ended the court session. That very day, Seraphine’s decree to Abolish the Nobility Regulations was carried out with ruthless efficiency—Edict Officers bearing the Imperial Seal led great search parties through the noble districts of Emberlight, descending upon one mansion after another.
At the same time, over a thousand supernaturally enhanced soldiers of the Office of Primal Threads’ Imperial Guard—known as the 【Blades of Tyranny】—were dispatched. Each squad escorted an Edict Officer, ready to crush any resistance the nobles might dare raise.
That afternoon.
Northwest Emberlight — Cher City, Draven Mansion.
“…From this day forth, the title of Duke Draven, along with all family estates and properties, shall be confiscated…”
The Edict Officer’s voice was cold and mechanical as he finished reading the imperial decree.
Before the great gates, Darius Draven, patriarch of the house, knelt stiffly. His face twisted in agony as he cried out, “I have shamed my ancestors!” before collapsing unconscious upon the stone.
Behind him, his sons remained prostrate. The eldest, Serath Draven, and the younger, Lucien, stared wide-eyed, their bodies trembling.
Lucien, the youngest, was seething—so enraged that his clenched teeth ground hard enough to crack the flagstones beneath him.
“Good.”
The Edict Officer rolled up the decree, sweeping his gaze over the family without emotion. He turned to the hundred-strong palace search detail and barked:
“By imperial command—seize every asset of the Draven house. Not a single coin is to remain.”
The searchmen bowed as one, their voices like thunder: “Yes!”
Lucien Draven could no longer endure it. He sprang to his feet, spectral images of lions, tigers, and leopards bursting into existence behind him. With a roar, he charged the implacable Edict Officer.
“I’ll fight you all to the de—”
He never finished.
A crystalline warrior materialized in front of him, its body gleaming like diamond. In an instant it shattered all of Lucien’s phantom beasts, clamped its hand around his neck, and slammed him into the ground.
Bang!!
The courtyard shook as if a bomb had gone off. Lucien’s body cratered half a meter into the stone, his neck bent unnaturally. From that impact point, fissures radiated outward in all directions, spreading dozens of meters, each crack wide enough to swallow a thumb.
The once-elegant garden of the Draven estate was torn asunder in an instant, reduced to a scarred ruin.
The Edict Officer, standing a short distance away, stroked his beard and said with cold indifference:
“Darius Draven, the cost of repairing this mansion will be sent to you in a few days. Do not forget.”
At those words, the patriarch—barely roused by the earlier shock—collapsed once more, senseless upon the ground.
Beside him, Serath Draven knelt motionless. His head remained bowed, his face a mask of restraint, yet the bulging line of his clenched jaw betrayed the fury within.
He knew resistance was futile.
His younger brother’s cultivation had reached the very peak of the Evershield Body, refined through several Ether tides, yet even he had been crushed by a single idle strike from one of the crystalline figures at the Edict Officer’s side.
And there were not one or two of these crystalline guardians, but twelve in all.
Each radiated a presence hundreds—perhaps thousands—of times stronger than his brother. Even if the household summoned every private soldier under its command, they would be annihilated without question.
And if, by some miracle, they resisted successfully… what then?
To defy the Empire was to incur the wrath of the True God dwelling in the heart of the Imperial Palace—an existence who, with a single thought from tens of thousands of miles away, could wipe their bloodline from the earth.
“...Sigh.”
Serath forced himself upright, bracing his unconscious father and guiding him back into the mansion under the cold stares of the Edict Officers.
Now the weight of the house fell upon him alone. He would have to steady the servants and calm the household.
I only hope the Noble Association’s plans—protests, strikes, petitions—amount to something, he thought grimly.
Otherwise, for a founding noble of purest blood to be stripped to common stock… to live as the rabble did, crammed shoulder to shoulder on public carriages each day… it would be a fate worse than death.
And so it was.
As the days passed, decree after decree descended. One by one, the noble houses of the empire were searched, their assets seized. Many were reduced to paupers overnight. Some who dared raise arms were annihilated outright.
For a time, all of Emberlight was thrown into chaos.