Kartora had traversed countless eras.

She had seen civilizations rise and fall, gods perish and be reborn, and ages lost to oblivion.

Yet never—never—had she encountered an age like this one, where so many Fake Gods existed at once.

What she had seen just now, those Fake Gods who surrounded and attacked her, were only the beginning. In the distant horizon, her perception stretched further—there were tens of thousands more, all of them radiating the aura of the Fake God level.

And the most absurd part of all… was that they were all coming for her.

Kartora exhaled softly, the faintest sigh escaping her lips. Then she released her mind power, allowing her consciousness to spread like a tidal wave through the land and sea.

But what she found was unexpected.

The aura that belonged to herself—the version of her that existed in this era—had suddenly vanished. It had been there just a moment ago, distinct and unmistakable, but now… it was gone, hidden deliberately.

So she was being lured here on purpose?

Her brows drew together slightly.

Why would she hide from herself? What was the point of such a game?

Kartora took a single step forward, her eyes cold.

And in that instant, more than a dozen nearby Fake Gods turned into ash—their existence erased without even the chance to scream.

A few seconds later, Kartora arrived at a small island rising from the endless sea.

Though she could no longer sense the other version of herself directly, an instinct deep within her told her that the other Kartora was here—on this very island, watching.

As she advanced, countless Fake Gods had tried to stop her.

They launched waves of divine attacks, hurling thunder, flame, and chaos itself at her.

But to Kartora, those strikes never even came close.

The moment their energy touched the radius of her temporal field, time accelerated—their attacks decayed, corroded, and dissolved into nothing.

By the time she set foot on the island, 2,387 Fake Gods had already been reduced to dust, their remains forming a fine gray layer that blanketed the ground beneath her feet.

The sheer scale of her power was beyond comprehension. Against the authority of time, resistance was meaningless.

Even Daniel, if faced with such manipulation, would have found himself helpless.

Strictly speaking, Kartora's attacks weren't even attacks in the conventional sense.

She didn't blast or strike or burn her enemies—she merely accelerated their personal time until their bodies and souls disintegrated from natural decay.

It was elegant, terrifying, and utterly absolute.

Yet despite her dominance, Kartora couldn't understand one thing.

These Fake Gods, knowing full well that death awaited them, still rushed toward her with suicidal fury.

Why?

What kind of hatred—or command—could drive such madness?

She pondered briefly, then waved her arm gently.

The world around her rewound, the dust and destruction fading away as time reversed to the moment she had first set foot on the island.

"You foolish creatures," she said coldly, her tone filled with disdain. "How dare you raise your hands against me?"

Her eyes swept across the group of ordinary Fake Gods before her.

In Daniel's presence, she might have appeared as a sweet, charming girl—but that side of her existed only for him.

To all other beings, Kartora was pure arrogance incarnate—a timeless entity that looked down upon creation itself.

Her contemptuous words seemed to enrage the Fake Gods.

Their roars shook the heavens. The skies darkened instantly, churning with dense clouds.

Bolts of thunder fell like divine punishment, each one enough to annihilate a mountain.

Yet as those lightning strikes neared Kartora, their motion began to slow—first slightly, then dramatically, until they appeared to crawl through the air like molasses.

Within seconds, they froze completely.

Thunder, light, and sound—all halted midair.

Time itself had stopped.

Kartora walked forward slowly, her steps soft and deliberate. She passed through the frozen lightning as if strolling through a gentle rain. Her gaze fell upon a colossal thunder dragon whose scales still glowed faintly in mid-strike.

"Your thunder," she said quietly, "is far too weak."

She turned her head slightly, as though bored.

A heartbeat later, the entire thunder dragon turned to ash, dissolving into the unmoving air.

"You accomplish nothing," Kartora said flatly. "Your deaths are meaningless. Do you still intend to continue this farce?"

The silence that followed was shattered by a sudden tremor.

A strange, ancient aura—vast and oppressive—descended from above.

Instantly, Kartora's expression sharpened. She lifted her head, her senses flaring. The presence was old, older than even the ancient gods she had once known.

But when she finally saw the source, she froze.

It wasn't an old god at all.

It was—herself.

A wooden, puppet-like figure, carved with uncanny precision, identical in every detail—a puppet version of Kartora.

For a brief moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

Then, as if recognizing their master, all the Fake Gods who had been attacking Kartora turned in unison and rushed toward the puppet version, surrounding her protectively.

With her arrival, the entire island began to change.

The air thickened; reality twisted. Kartora could feel the spatial-temporal structure bending, the laws of time and space warping unnaturally.

Behind the puppet Kartora, the ocean itself began to rise, freezing into a massive wall of liquid crystal.

The shifting water formed the outline of a colossal clock.

[Temporal Domain: Activated.]

From the puppet's position, countless runes flared. Using the Fake Gods as anchor points, she constructed a massive ritual array that encompassed the entire island.

The sigils glowed for only a brief moment before the power began to stabilize.

Then, the puppet Kartora stepped forward, approaching her real counterpart.

"Why so impatient?" she asked with a faint, mocking smile.

"Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for you?"

"I've waited for you for millions of years."

Her voice was calm yet laced with emotion—something between resentment and longing.

Kartora frowned, glancing past her counterpart at the Fake Gods gathered behind her. Then she sighed softly.

Now it all made sense.

These Fake Gods… every single one of them had been created by the puppet Kartora.

Just like her original self, the puppet had mastered control over the flow of time. Using accelerated timelines, nurturing divine seeds wasn't difficult.

And since the puppet had inherited the Ancient God lineage, her followers automatically ascended toward godhood over time.

All she had to do was keep them alive, and time would do the rest.

Through countless centuries, she had cultivated an army of Fake Gods—each one feeding her endless faith energy.

That explained why they obeyed her so completely.

Kartora's eyes narrowed slightly.

She could feel it now—the puppet's power surpassed her own.

Not by much, but enough.

In addition to her personal strength, the puppet wielded the combined might of thousands of devoted believers.

Kartora had known it was risky when she first created this fragment—a vessel to inherit the Ancient God's Temporal Throne—but even so, she had underestimated the danger.

Still, she didn't panic.

Even if the puppet Kartora was stronger, killing the original was not so simple.

After a moment of silence, Kartora spoke. Her voice was calm, resolute.

"You already know why I'm here."

The puppet smiled, radiant and eerily familiar.

"Of course I do. I know everything about you—your thoughts, your intentions, your every hesitation."

"But let me make something clear." Her smile sharpened. "I have no intention of merging with you."

She snapped her fingers.

Instantly, the world split in two.

The two Kartoras now stood on opposite sides of existence—within the same timeline, yet in mirrored layers of reality.

It was like gazing through parallel universes—each reflection perfectly aligned yet forever separate.

Kartora exhaled softly, helplessness flickering in her eyes.

"I see. You've been completely tainted by the Ancient Gods' influence."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, her tone carrying a faint sadness. "It was my decision that made you this way. I know it's cruel, but… I don't have a choice."

The words hung between them, echoing faintly through the fractured world where time itself seemed to grieve.

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