Just as Neos poured every last drop of divine power into his attack, the psionic blade-light transforming into lightning that cleaved Chaos apart and was about to strike the frantically writhing core of flesh belonging to the Abyssal Progenitor—
The entire universe fell silent.
It was not that sound had vanished, but that all things had sunk into an absolute stillness.
The flames of light on the battlefield, the scattering debris, the surging energy, even time itself—all were gently held down by an invisible giant hand.
Then, a terrifying weight descended.
It was not physical pressure, but a kind of "acknowledgment" originating from existence itself—as though the universe had awakened from slumber, seen the chaos here, and decided to set it in order with its own hands.
Light flowed in from every direction.
Billions of pale golden threads of light, like living strands, seeped from every corner of the void, interweaving and winding together to form an indescribable outline at the center of the battlefield.
It was roughly humanoid, yet composed of countless slowly rotating halos and drifting ribbons. Where its face should have been, three orbs of light continuously traded places as they revolved, reflecting the cold will of judgment, balance, and arbitration.
A voice resounded directly in the depths of every being's consciousness, calm and vast, devoid of emotion, yet carrying an unquestionable sense of finality:
[Identification: Source of rule disturbance.] [Identification: Extraterritorial deity intrusion.] [Identification: Local deity out of control and rule conflict.] [Arbitration Protocol initiated.] [I am the Living Tribunal.] [I am the will of the universe, maintainer of balance, and enforcer of rules.]
The instant the voice fell silent, Neos felt himself being stripped away from the "world."
His connection to the stars,