Kaguya's hand was barely an inch from the slowly drifting mote of silvery-white light. It was as faint as the last starlight before dawn, yet unprecedented greed and uncertainty surged through her half-white, half-black eyes. She could sense that the mote held the most fundamental imprint of that "vessel" after his fusion with the rules-an enigma that transcended chakra and touched the very roots of the world.
Just as her fingertips were about to touch the mote-
The mote silently scattered on its own.
It did not vanish; it dissolved. Like a snowflake falling into warm water, it naturally melted into the patch of space directly below it, which had just been eroded by the turbulent rules and twisted into a bizarre shape.
Immediately afterward, that patch of space, once like a shattered mirror, seemed to be gently stroked by an invisible hand. Distortions straightened, cracks closed, and chaos subsided. It was not so much a repair as... a "reset." As though it had never been damaged, everything returned to its original, most "correct" state.
An indescribable "will," gentle yet omnipresent, silently washed over the entire battlefield and through everyone's hearts, like a stream thawing in early spring.
There was no oppressive force, no sound. Yet wherever it flowed, the fractured earth began to settle, withered plants sprouted anew, and the restless, chaotic particles of energy in the air became docile and orderly. Even the suffocating despair seemed to be brushed away by a gentle hand, leaving only a profound tranquility that came from the world itself.
Everyone froze, staring blankly at the incredible sight and feeling that inexplicable peace within.
Kaguya's hand stiffened in midair. For the first time, her eyes, interwoven with pure white and pitch black, fluctuated violently, filled with disbelief. She tried to summon her power,