"How... is this possible? How dare you..."
Yahweh still tried to struggle, but Ye Ting's cold, merciless words shattered his delusions. Then, complex sorcery lit up around him.
"As the creator of the angels, did you really think I hadn't left behind any contingencies? To keep my weapons from falling into enemy hands, I naturally installed at least this kind of self-destruct mechanism."
The moment he finished speaking, all the angels present simultaneously felt their spirit cores begin to heat up.
A subtle sense of despair rose within them.
"No—" Michael wanted to say something, wanted to stop it all, but it was already too late for words.
A chant that severed life had already begun to resound from Ye Ting's lips.
"I hold the authority of creation in my hands; let holy spirits emerge from nothingness—In the name of the creator, I command these physical forms that house sacred souls. Cross the endless slumber of the pool of birth and descend into ultimate rebirth! O Holy Spirit, this is the moment of restart!"
As Ye Ting chanted, more and more angels began to feel something wrong with themselves.
Their bodies, formed from materialized souls, suddenly became sluggish, like old machines. No matter how their cores tried to control them, they could not carry out their commands.
Though the angels remained conscious, they could only watch helplessly as their bodies slowly slipped out of their control and ceased functioning.
It was as though their main power switches had been cut in an instant.
In the blink of an eye, every angel present became an energy-less doll, standing stiffly where they were as if dead.
No, they truly were dead.
Yahweh felt this with perfect clarity.
For at that moment, even he, who occupied the body of Zadkiel, the Angel of