Roxy couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t scream. The physical world vanished, replaced entirely by an infinite, blinding white expanse inside her own mind.

No, Roxy’s consciousness whimpered, a tiny, fragile spark struggling against the suffocating weight of an entire pantheon.

Please, it hurts. It hurts!

But the gods did not deal in mercy; they dealt in absolute, unyielding celestial law.

The hollowing began. It wasn’t a simple fading; it was a violent, methodical dismantling of everything that made her human. The divine magic served as a holy purge, hunting down the emotional anchors of her soul to sever the ties binding her to the Beastworld.

The memories were ripped forcibly to the forefront of her mind, playing one last, vivid time before they were dragged to the celestial slaughter.

She saw Ren. The Trickster King stood amid a flurry of eternal autumn leaves, his violet eyes shining with that infuriating, arrogant smirk as he twirled her into his arms. Roxy reached out for him desperately, but before her fingers could brush his silk robes, a blinding blizzard of holy light swept through the vision.

The autumn leaves instantly turned to white ash. Ren’s beautiful face shattered into a burst of silent, cold starlight.

No! Ren!

Next came Torian. She felt the blistering, profound heat of his massive chest as they lay tangled in the dire-wolf pelts. She heard his deep, rumbling laugh. But the warmth was instantly plunged into absolute zero.

Torian’s bright blue eyes froze over with celestial frost, cracking like thin ice before turning into empty white mist.

Zarek’s devoted, handsome face was violently snuffed out by a deluge of holy water that left nothing but cold, wet stone. Caspian’s soothing, aquatic magic and the gentle way he brushed her hair were turned to dry, lifeless dust.

Syris’s elegant voice whispering promises was drowned out entirely by a deafening, toneless choir of heavenly judgment.

"Kaelen," Roxy’s soul sobbed, clinging to the final, deepest anchor.

She saw the King of the North looking down at her, his icy blue eyes filled with absolute, terrified devotion. She felt his heavy arms wrapping around her waist, anchoring her to the world. She fought the divine magic with everything she had, her soul violently resisting the erasure.

But the Heavens were absolute.

A massive, overwhelming wave of white light crashed down on the memory. The profound love in Kaelen’s eyes was violently bleached away, leaving behind two blank, empty white voids.

The agonizing pain instantly, terrifyingly ceased. The desperate, fiercely loving transmigrated woman named Roxann simply stopped existing. The spark went out. In its place, a cold, absolute, and pristine divine entity successfully awakened within its new, terrestrial shell.

While the Matriarch died in the light, a massacre was unfolding on the dark, treacherous slopes below.

Abaddon walked up the winding mountain path with the casual, bored stride of a man strolling through a park. The Vanguard armies had desperately tried to hold the line, but they were fighting a creature of pure, abyssal darkness.

They stood no chance.

A massive wolf-soldier lunged at him from the snowy crags, fangs bared. Abaddon didn’t even look; he simply waved a hand, and the wolf was bisected by an invisible blade of concentrated shadow.

A squad of elite dragon-warriors unleashed a synchronised torrent of hellfire, but Abaddon walked right through the flames, his void magic swallowing the heat and leaving him completely untouched.

Tiger-soldiers were crushed under heavy spheres of dark magic, and the venomous strikes of the snake-soldiers simply withered against his unholy aura.

The path to the summit was littered with the broken, bleeding bodies of the Vanguard’s finest.

Abaddon smirked, stepping over the corpse of a massive Vanguard general. He could hear the Alpha Kings roaring in the courtyard far below, hopelessly pinned down by the endless sea of his demonic horrors.

His exhausted, broken Earthling ally had successfully lowered the wards and retreated to the peak to hand him the keys to the world. He just needed to collect her, tear down the sky, and finally end the gods’ miserable reign.

Abaddon reached the flat, jagged stone of the summit.

The blinding, terrifying pillar of divine light that had illuminated the peak suddenly, abruptly vanished. The heavy, bruised darkness of the eclipse swallowed the mountaintop once more, illuminated only by the faint, ambient glow of the magical residue.

In the center of the crater, a figure was kneeling on the frozen stone.

"You did well, Roxann," Abaddon said, his pitch-black eyes gleaming with cynical triumph as he stepped forward, his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket. "I almost thought your beast-husbands were going to stop you. Now, stand up, and let’s finish—"

The figure slowly stood up.

Abaddon’s words died in his throat.

She wasn’t Roxy anymore. The heavy crimson cloak had been burned away by the holy fire, leaving her in the sweeping white silk nightgown that now seemed to drift and billow around her ankles, defying the freezing wind. But it was her aura that made the Demon King violently halt.

She radiated a terrifying, crushing, and entirely emotionless celestial power. The air around her warped and hummed with the absolute, unquestionable authority of the Heavens.

She slowly turned her head to face him.

Her brilliant, passionate green eyes were completely gone. In their place were twin orbs of stark, blinding, empty white light. There was no fear. There was no exhaustion. There was only an ancient divinity far deeper and far colder than anything Abaddon possessed.

Abaddon realized, in one staggering, horrifying second, that he had been completely, utterly outplayed. She hadn’t lowered the wards for him. She had lowered them to keep him distracted while she surrendered her soul to the gods.

"You..." Abaddon breathed, taking a subconscious step backward, summoning a massive, crackling blade of dark abyssal shadow into his right hand.

The Vessel tilted her head, analyzing the blasphemer with the cold precision of a divine judge. And then, horrifyingly, the face of the dead Matriarch contorted.

Her lips curved into a chilling, utterly wrong, and deeply sadistic smile. The gods had full access to the terrestrial memories of Roxy’s brain, and they were actively weaponizing her Earth-bound habits and slang to psychologically devastate their fallen mortal.

The Vessel began to slowly walk toward him, her bare feet silent on the frozen stone.

"What’s wrong, Donnie?" she purred. The voice belonged to Roxy, but it echoed with a layered, celestial resonance that vibrated in the marrow of Abaddon’s bones. The use of his true, forgotten Earth name hit him like a physical blow.

Abaddon gritted his teeth, his black eyes blazing with fury. He raised his shadow blade, the dark magic screaming as it sliced through the air, intending to decapitate the gods’ new toy.

The Vessel didn’t even break her stride. She casually raised her left hand.

She didn’t cast a spell. She didn’t summon an element. With a single, devastating pulse of pure divine authority, the absolute laws of the universe were enforced. The massive, crackling blade of abyssal shadow instantly neutralized, evaporating into harmless, grey mist before it even reached her fingertips.

Abaddon stumbled forward, entirely unbalanced by the sudden, impossible erasure of his magic.

The Vessel giggled.

"Can’t get your sword up?" she mocked smoothly, her white eyes flashing with arrogant amusement as she stepped directly into his personal space. "Do you need my help? Aww, poor baby~"

"Shut up!" Abaddon roared.

Completely underestimating the physical capabilities of a transmigrated body supercharged by the entire pantheon, Abaddon threw a brutal, terrestrial right hook aimed directly at her jaw.

The Vessel caught his fist in the palm of her hand with a deafening CRACK. The impact shattered the bones in Abaddon’s hand instantly. He didn’t even have time to scream before she moved.

With blinding, terrifying speed, the Vessel swept his legs out from under him. She grabbed the collar of his leather jacket and violently slammed him down onto the jagged, frozen stone of the mountaintop. The impact cracked the bedrock beneath them, driving the breath entirely out of his lungs.

Before Abaddon could even attempt to summon another spark of dark magic, the Vessel placed the sole of her bare foot directly onto the center of his chest, pinning the cosmic threat to the ground with the immovable weight of the heavens.

She looked down at the broken, gasping man who had terrorized the Beastworld for centuries. The sadistic, mocking smile slowly faded from her lips, replaced once again by the cold, absolute, and chillingly blank expression of the divine executioner.

She tilted her head, her glowing white eyes staring a hole straight through his soul.

"How do you want to be erased?"