"You don't have to apologize to me. On the contrary, I should be the one thanking you."

The puppet Kartora maintained her faint, composed smile. No trace of resentment or hostility could be seen on her face—it was as if Kartora's words had not touched her at all.

"Still," the puppet continued, her tone soft but laced with conviction, "I must remind you of something. Perhaps you believe that the path you've chosen is the correct one, but to me—you are wrong."

"You think my consciousness was somehow affected, manipulated by external influence. But the truth is far simpler: I simply refuse to fuse with you."

"When I was born, the instant I came into existence, I was already different from you. You are you, and I am me. You cannot, for the sake of your own selfish desire, force me to merge into your body."

"I am an independent being—an entity of my own will—and, as you know, I am also the Time God of the Elder Gods' Pantheon. By essence and by right, you and I are equals."

"You are called Kartora," the puppet said lightly, her tone brightening with an almost childlike spark of joy. "Then perhaps I, too, should have a name of my own. Yes... Kalbira. That's it."

"From this moment on, address me as Kalbira, the Time God of the Elder Gods' lineage. That shall be my name."

Hearing this declaration, Kartora's face showed a flicker of helplessness. She hadn't foreseen the situation spiraling into something like this.

"I didn't expect it to come to this," she murmured, her voice soft and weary. "Truly, this was my mistake."

But Kalbira ignored the regret in her tone. Her smile remained tranquil, almost radiant, as she gazed steadily at Kartora.

"Kartora, although we now exist as two distinct entities, we were once one and the same. For that reason, I will allow you to leave this place—return to your own timeline."

"But from this moment forward, our connection ends here."

Kalbira's voice was calm and melodious, but Kartora knew her too well. That tone, no matter how gentle, carried finality. Once either of them made a decision, there would be no turning back.

A deep, suffocating silence fell between them. The air seemed frozen, locked in tension.

Kartora sighed softly. Then she slowly raised her hand—and snapped her fingers.

In an instant, the entire space fell into stillness. Time itself froze, as though the flow of reality had been locked within an invisible crystal.

Kartora's gaze turned toward Kalbira's reflection in the void. Her voice was faint, but it cut through the silence with clarity.

"Kalbira, you know as well as I do—there are things that only I can do."

"When Daniel and I joined forces to create you, it wasn't merely for personal reasons."

Kartora was trying to reason with her, to appeal to something beyond defiance. But in return, Kalbira only laughed—a soft yet merciless laugh that echoed across the stagnant air.

"Kartora, do you honestly think I would believe that?"

"You've always been selfish. There's no one in this world who understands your heart better than I do."

"If our roles were reversed—if you had to fuse with me—would you agree to it?"

"Don't joke with me. I know you too well. You fear death. You dread losing control. You crave eternity. You want to create a perfect world where nothing changes."

"If you truly had the courage, you could merge with me yourself, couldn't you?"

Kalbira's words came like a storm—sharp, unrelenting, each sentence tearing through the fragile calm. Her voice trembled slightly at the end, her emotions stirring beneath the surface. She had waited too long for this confrontation, and the weight of that anticipation bled through her tone.

But the momentary agitation passed. Kalbira quickly regained her composure, her golden eyes steady once more. She looked at Kartora with cold serenity, waiting for a response—for an excuse, perhaps—for a confession she already knew.

Kartora only exhaled slowly. "It seems," she said at last, "that the rift between us truly cannot be reconciled."

She paused, then added quietly, "But if that's the case… do you know why I've stayed here all this time?"

Kalbira smiled faintly, her expression carrying a touch of irony and understanding.

"I know," she said. "You're waiting for him, aren't you?"

The instant the words left her lips, both of them moved.

Their domains of time erupted simultaneously.

Reality shuddered. Countless layers of temporal energy collided, folding and twisting as the two divine authorities clashed head-on.

Unlike the chaotic, destructive battles of other Fake Gods, theirs was a duel of perfect symmetry. Both wielded dominion over time itself, and thus their fields intertwined—each devouring, consuming, erasing the other in a silent, merciless struggle.

They knew what was at stake. Whoever's domain collapsed first would vanish—erased from existence.

At first, their strength seemed evenly matched. In fact, Kartora even held a slight advantage. Her mastery of temporal manipulation was deeper, refined through countless cycles of experimentation and loss.

But Kalbira possessed something Kartora lacked—faith.

Her followers were many, her believers spread across the scattered remnants of the Elder Pantheon. Through their worship, their whispers, their prayers, Kalbira drew in divine energy—the power of belief—and gradually began to overpower Kartora's fading domain.

Realizing the danger, Kartora acted decisively.

Though she was a Fake God, she had not spent these years idly. She had gathered numerous artifacts—relics from forgotten worlds and shattered timelines—each one containing a fragment of divine essence.

For Daniel, artifacts meant little; their effects were negligible compared to the might of God-Rank Skills. But for Kartora, they made all the difference.

As the shimmering sigils of her relics ignited around her, her power surged once again.

Kalbira, in contrast, wielded far fewer divine tools. Most of her energy over the eons had been devoted to nurturing the other Fake Gods born under the Elder lineage. Her strength came not from trinkets or relics, but from faith—and faith alone could not always match raw power.

Thus their confrontation became a battle not of bodies, but of fields.

Within this suspended plane of time, all else was frozen—matter, light, even causality itself. Only Kartora and Kalbira moved, their forms flickering through timelines like shards of mirrored glass.

Even in stillness, the fight was perilous.

Kalbira's expression hardened. She lifted her hand, and divine power condensed around her—shaping itself into a luminous blade of chronal energy, sharp enough to cleave through the fabric of space.

With a single stroke, she ripped through Kartora's domain, fracturing it like shattering glass.

Kartora's pupils constricted. Instantly, she invoked [Time Shift], stepping backward through the previous moment.

The flow of time bent under her will. When the world realigned, she stood behind her earlier self—at a point just before the attack had struck.

In the same heartbeat, she summoned a Temporal Rift behind her—a tear in spacetime that devoured all within reach.

It appeared precisely where Kalbira was destined to emerge next.

A trap laid in the flow of destiny itself.

And indeed, Kalbira appeared right on cue—only to find herself caught in the collapsing vortex of time.

Kartora's eyes flashed. She raised her hand to deliver the finishing strike.

But before she could act—

"Aurelia! Help me!"

The name froze Kartora in place.

Her expression shifted instantly from cold precision to grim seriousness.

Aurelia—the Goddess of Gold and Silver. A being whose divine speed rivaled the brilliance of light itself.

Under normal circumstances, Kartora would not fear Aurelia. Time, after all, rendered speed meaningless. Against the dominion of time, even light could be caged.

But this situation was different.

For the first time, Kartora realized that Kalbira, too, possessed the Authority of Time. If Aurelia joined her, if they synchronized their divine rhythms—then even Kartora's mastery might be broken.

The thought struck her like lightning. She hesitated, calculating, her instincts screaming caution.

She released her gathered power and withdrew a few steps into the fractured depths of her domain.

The temporal currents trembled, distorted by the converging presence of another god.

If Kalbira and Aurelia truly joined forces—then this battle of time itself might end with the erasure of one timeline entirely.

And Kartora, for the first time in countless eras, felt something dangerously close to fear.

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